Ghostface Killer(69)

"I won't." The doctor purses his lips in clear disapproval.

Frederick returns with the towels and water just as Dr. Levinstein finishes disinfecting the wound on Baz's back.

He wipes away the remaining dried blood then quickly dries his skin and dresses the wounds way better than I ever could. The gauze he uses is three times thicker and fluffier than the kind I could get my hands on.

"You'll have to change the dressing periodically. Are you staying here? I can leave instructions with Frederick."

"Yes." Baz glances over at me. "We'll be here a little while."

"Very good." Dr. Levinstein reaches into his bag and retrieves a syringe. "Moment of truth."

Baz makes a throw up face as he looks away from the needle.

"Are you afraid of shots?" I ask, surprised by his reaction.

"I fucking hate needles." Dr. Levinstein doesn't even warn him before he hit him in the arm. Baz groans as he clenches his jaw, the color in his cheeks draining.

"You have a tattoo. How did you survive that?"

"Lots of alcohol," he retorts.

"The pediatrician used to have to chase him around the office," Frederick reminisces. "Baz was quite the rambunctious child."

"So I've been told." I can't help but smile as I rub my thumb back and forth over my belly. My tunic shirt hiding the small bulge for now.

Dr. Levinstein removes his latex gloves, places them in a plastic bag, and then discards them in his medical bag before clearing his throat. 

"Frederick, can I have a moment alone with Benjamin and . . . I'm sorry, I didn't get your name, young lady."

"Stevie," I offer.

"Stevie," he politely repeats.

"Of course. Is there anything I can get anyone before I go?"

I run through a laundry list of things in my mind. Food, water, sanity, a shower, bed, ten fluffy pillows, and a week of uninterrupted sleep. But I think that's a bit much to ask, so I just shake my head.

I watch Frederick leave the room, preparing for whatever news Dr. Levinstein is going to give

about Baz.

He looks at me pointedly. "How far along are you?"

"Excuse me?" I glance nervously between him and Baz.

"How many months pregnant?" he clarifies, speaking slowly so I understand.

"How how'd you know I was pregnant?" I ask, alarmed.

"Because I have been a doctor longer than you have been alive. I recognize the signs. You haven't stopped clutching your belly since I've been here." I look down at my abdomen, not even realizing what I'd been doing. "Is it yours?" the straightforward doctor asks Baz.

"Of course, it's mine. Stevie is my fiancée." Baz nearly bites his head off.

"Just fact checking." Levinstein isn't put off by Baz. "I hadn't heard of your engagement."

"We haven't announced anything yet. Things have been a little turbulent lately," Baz informs him guardedly.

"I see." Levinstein pushes his glasses up his nose. "Have you been examined?"

I drop my eyes. "No, I haven't seen a doctor yet." I wrap my arms protectively around my stomach. That's the worst news to deliver. I know how neglectful it sounds, but it's not like I had the luxury to just call up and make an appointment like a normal woman. I'm not normal.

"Mmm," the doctor muses. "Do you have any idea how far along you are?"

"About six months. We conceived early November."

"You're positive?" He raises his thick eyebrows.

I sneak another glance at Baz. "One hundred percent." I'm pretty sure he knocked me up the first time we had sex.

"Do you mind if I do a quick examination?" he inquires delicately.

"No." I don't object at all.

Dr. Levinstein grabs his stethoscope from his leather bag and kneels next to where I'm sitting.

"Lean back and lift your shirt, please."

I pull up the hem of my black-and blue-checkered shirt and expose my little pot belly.

Levinstein moves the scope around my stomach several different places, listening. "Have you felt any discomfort?"

"Does horrific morning sickness count?"

"Are you still having it?" He slides his brown eyes up to mine.

"No."

"Do you feel the baby moving at all?"

He pulls the earplugs out and hangs the stethoscope around his neck.

"Flutters sometimes."

"You didn't tell me that." Baz frowns.

"It just started happening."

"It should around the sixth month. I'm going to send over an ultrasound machine tomorrow, and we'll have a proper look. I'm also going to set you up with an OB. She'll do all your examinations here, if you prefer."

I look at Baz, and he nods gravely. "I think that will be best."