Gazing around the chapel, she felt a flutter of anticipation go through her. If their future chance of parenthood was now in the lap of the gods this felt like the right place to be: seated next to Rafael in this timeless capsule of calm, with the Madonna and child before them. She took strength from that.
‘Tomorrow is all right with you?’
Rafael’s question cut through Lottie’s thoughts and she realised he was waiting for her reply.
‘I thought we might as well move this on as fast as we can.’
‘Tomorrow is fine.’ She turned to face him full-on, even risking a bright-eyed smile. ‘The sooner we can do this the better.’
* * *
Dr Oveisi turned out to be a rather dapper, middle-aged man with blue-black slicked-back hair and a fondness for gold jewellery. As Lottie nervously shook his outstretched hand she could feel the chunky rings against her sweaty palm.
They were seated in the grand salon—Lottie and Rafael side by side on the sofa, Dr Oveisi on a high-backed chair opposite. It soon became apparent that he was both highly intelligent and not a man to mess around. Rafael’s kind of man. After the briefest of introductions he launched straight into questions about Lottie’s fertility history, the failed IVF attempts and her current ovulation cycle.
All the while his fountain pen scratched over the notepad he held on his lap, making indecipherable black marks. But for all his lack of social skills Lottie quickly found herself trusting him. There was no schmoozing, no small talk—here was a man in the business of making babies, and everything about him said that was exactly what he intended to do for them.
Beside her Rafael sat quietly, listening intently. Lottie could sense his concentration, the significance of the conversation only really evident in the stiff posture of his body.
Moving on from Lottie’s fertility deficiencies, Dr Oveisi turned his attention to the precious embryo. More notes were taken as Rafael confirmed that, yes, it had been frozen at five days old, and gave the name of the fertility clinic where it was stored.
‘And there is only one blastocyst?’ Looking up briefly, Dr Oveisi directed the question at Rafael.
They both knew the term blastocyst: an embryo that had been cultured for five days. Three gruelling rounds of IVF had left them horribly familiar with all the medical terminology.
‘Yes.’ The lack of emotion in Rafael’s clipped reply was telling. ‘Just the one.’
‘Right.’ Screwing the top back on his fountain pen and stowing it in his inside pocket, Dr Oveisi stood up. ‘I think that is everything. I will arrange a visit from one of our fertility nurses to discuss Contessa Revaldi’s hormone injections. Once we have a date for the transfer I will see you at the clinic.’
Allowing himself the smallest of smiles, he held out his hand to shake Lottie’s, bowing slightly before leaving the room with Rafael.
Lottie found herself gazing at his vacated seat. This was all happening so fast. Dr Oveisi, for all his brusque impersonality, had made it seem real, tangible. Was it really possible that a few weeks from now she could be pregnant? Pregnant with Rafael’s child?
* * *
As promised, the fertility nurse turned up the next day, carrying her bag full of potions. Lottie immediately liked her—a young Eastern European called Gina, obviously very bright, and attractive with it. Her crisp white uniform set off her slender figure nicely, her hair was scraped back into a bouncy ponytail and her intelligent blue eyes held a steady gaze.
Until she saw Rafael, of course. Lottie could almost see her trying to control the phwoar! response, fighting to remain professional in the face of this alarmingly handsome man.
Rafael treated her to a polite smile before announcing that he would leave them to it. Alone together, the two women exchanged a glance, and the flush on Gina’s face took its time to recede as she turned away to open her bag, fumbling inside for her equipment.
Gina had intended to come and administer the hormone injections every day, until Lottie told her that she could do it for herself. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done it before. She watched as Lottie pushed her first injection into her thigh and, obviously satisfied that she knew what she was doing, left her with instructions on the strict routine she had to follow until her next visit.
‘And I don’t need to tell you about the possible side effects either?’ Gina gave Lottie a sympathetic smile.
‘Headaches, stomach cramps, mood swings, hot flushes... Looking forward to it already.’ Lottie grinned back. ‘Been there—got the tee shirt.’
‘Well, I hope it’s a baggy one,’ Gina replied. ‘You’ll need it to cover the baby bump!’