Big & Beautiful 13: Ample & Alluring
Author
Mary E Thompson
Reads
143K
Chapters
29
Chapter 1
Book 13: Ample & Alluring
I knocked on the blonde wood door and let myself in, hoping Alison was ready for me. I’d been dreading the appointment for a while, but I’d been in more difficult positions before.
“Hi Alison,” I said happily, extending my hand to hers. “It’s nice to see you again.” I turned to her husband. “You as well, Matt.”
Matt O’Reilly. My ex. The guy I kinda sorta thought I might fall in love with when I was in med school. The guy who became a cliche and married a nurse. A beautiful, kind, amazing nurse who I adored.
Karma was not on my side.
No, that wasn’t true. I wanted Matt to be happy. I wasn’t so vindictive that I would wish anything but love and joy in his life.
Fuck me. When did I turn into a sappy commercial?
“Hi, Dr. Prescott,” Alison said with an attempt at a smile.
“How are you feeling today?”
Alison shrugged. “I’m doing okay. Disappointed. Wondering when we can try again.”
I smiled, hoping she kept that attitude through the whole process. “We’ll try the same medication again this month. Basically, if it doesn’t work within three months, we’ll move on to something else. If it does, then we’re good to go.”
“Do we have to wait three months?” she asked.
I knew that tone. That impatient, I-want-it-now tone of a woman who’d been dreaming about having a baby for years. I didn’t blame her. Most of my patients felt the same as her. It was worse when one or both parties were in the medical field. Like their knowledge surpassed mine and the magic of the internet could tell them something that I, the fertility specialist with not only an MD and residency in obstetrics and gynecology but also a board-certified reproductive endocrinologist and director of infertility at Winterville Infertility Associates, couldn’t.
Yeah, that tone annoyed me.
I got it. I did. I understood wanting a baby. Not that I wanted one, but I’d been in my job for long enough that I’d cried with patients over the loss of life, the creation of life, and the adoption of life. I’d felt their pain. And their frustration.
Sometimes a little too much.
“You don’t have to wait three months, no. That choice can be yours. If the medication is making you sick, we can move on to something else. Something that is more invasive. We try to go slowly when increasing our level of medical involvement. Less is more, so to speak. If there’s a reason you want to skip this step, we can definitely talk about it, but I’d advise you to wait and try.”
They exchanged a look, one that said I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
“We’ve done some research, Peyton,” Matt said.
He called me Peyton. Like we were still friends. I wondered how he would feel if I went into an appointment with him and called him by his first name.
“IVF is becoming more and more successful. IUI is as well. We’re wondering why we aren’t jumping to either of those off the bat. Alison is almost thirty-three. If we want to have more children, we need to get the first one out of the way.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes so they wouldn’t see me rolling them. Jesus, really? He made their first child sound like a nuisance that he couldn’t wait to put past him. I did not get into this job to bring children into unwanted homes. I get into it to bring children into wanted homes.
“Well, Matt, if you’re so worried about the next child and not about Alison’s health or listening to my advice, then maybe you should go somewhere else.”
“No, that’s not what he’s saying,” Alison jumped in, defending her husband and me at the same time. “I’m sorry. We trust you. We’re just impatient.”
I swung my gaze to Alison and forced a grin. “I understand. What you need to remember is you’re very early in this process. I know you’re anxious, but there are women who’ve been going through this for years. I hope that doesn’t happen to you, but it might. Almost ninety percent of women with fertility issues get pregnant using medications like the one you’re on now. Yes, IVF and IUI are becoming better options, but they’re also only needed once we’ve done everything we can to help you without manipulating your bodies. I know it’s hard to wait, but I just ask that you trust me.”
“We do, Dr. Prescott. Thank you.”
I nodded and continued the appointment. A quick exam, a blood test, and they were on their way, with a fresh prescription that would hopefully bring them a baby.
So they could move on to the next one.
I sank into my chair with a sigh, running my hands through my dishwater blonde hair. I really should get it cut one day, but I didn’t have time. I let the strands fall loose for a minute, hoping to ease my headache, then tied it back up into a knot.
“How was it?” Laura Kempis, my nurse and close friend, asked, ducking into my office.
I scheduled a break after the appointment so I could decompress. After four years, I’d learned a few things. Like medical professionals didn’t like to take advice from other medical professionals. And some husbands didn’t trust me because I’m female. And sometimes I needed to relax after an appointment so I didn’t lose my shit on the next patient.
“About what I expected,” I told Laura, meeting her brown eyes.
She laughed, her voluptuous figure trembling with her laughter. “You knew it was going to be bad.”
I rolled my eyes. “I did. What did I ever see in him?”
Laura smirked, her red painted lips curling up. “He’s pretty hot.”
I snorted. “He is. And he was a hell of a stress reliever in med school.”
Laura laughed. “I bet he was. ‘Oh, Matt. Harder, Matt. Right there, Matt.’”
Laura could have been a plus-sized model instead of a nurse, but she loved helping people. Her fake orgasm told me there was a damn good reason she was a 900 operator when she was putting herself through nursing school.
“I’d say don’t quit your day job, but you could,” I teased her.
Laura snorted. “Yeah. Then I’d get all those men threatening to stick me instead of me getting to stick them.”
“You don’t stick men anymore. Not since nursing school.”
She screwed up her face. “I know. I miss it.”
“What? Sex or stabbing needles into men?”
“Can’t it be both?”
I laughed. “Sure, why not?”
“Sometimes I think we’re nuts for doing this. Emotional women and overbearing men? I think I picked the wrong profession.”
I shook my head. “No, you didn’t. You’re great with them. I’d have gone nuts years ago if it weren’t for you.”
Something passed over her brown eyes, almost the same shit-stain color as mine, that made me worry.
“Are you leaving?”
Laura shook her head. “No. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve just been thinking about options.”
“And not being here is one you want to pursue.” I could see it in the set of her shoulders as much as in her eyes. She was worried about what I was going to say.
“Truth?”
“Always,” I said. One thing Laura and I always did was tell each other the truth.
“I don’t feel like I’m doing enough good. I went into nursing to help people. I know we are helping, but as expensive as some of these treatments are, I sometimes feel like we’re only helping the wealthy.”
I sighed. “I know. Most of our patients who don’t have insurance to cover a huge portion of the costs end up giving up after trying the meds. It’s frustrating.”
Laura nodded. “It is.”
“But that doesn’t mean that people with money don’t deserve kids or have problems having them.”
Laura shook her head. “No, you’re right. It doesn’t mean that. I guess I just get burned out sometimes.”
I nodded, but I could only understand from an outside perspective. I loved my job. Bringing wanted kids into the world, kids whose parents were willing to go through testing and poking and prodding and medications and pain and heartbreak just for the hope that one day they might get to hold the baby they’ve always wanted… That was why I did it.
“What would you do if you weren’t here?” I asked, wondering what made my friend tick.
Laura gave me one of her patented, self-deprecating half-grins. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”
I shook my head. “Definitely not.”
“I’ve considered getting certified as an infusion nurse.”
“Infusion? Like chemo?”
She nodded. “I told you it was insane.”
I shook my head. “Not even a little. I don’t think I could handle that. When I fail here, there are still options. Adoption, sometimes surrogacy. When oncologists fail, a person dies.”
Her smile faded. “I know. I’ve been afraid to step into that world, but losing my mom to lung cancer made me want to become a nurse. I feel like I’ve been waiting for the right moment to make that leap to infusion.”
“Well, shit, I’m not going to stop you. I’d hate to see you go, but you have to follow your heart.”
“My heart isn’t telling me to leave yet. Just to start thinking about it.”
“Phew,” I breathed. “Just give me some warning. I’ll do whatever you need to make it work.”
“Thanks, Pey. I appreciate that.”
“Oh, please. If I were the one saying all this, you’d hang the ‘Business For Sale’ sign for me.”
Laura laughed, shaking her curly blonde hair behind her shoulder. “You’re right. I probably would. You ready for the next one?”
I nodded. “At least I know this one will be a little easier.”
“You can only hope,” Laura teased, handing me the file. We walked out together, ready to tackle the rest of the day.
* * *
“Are you coming tonight?” my sister, Vicki, asked when I rushed home that afternoon.
I nodded, heading straight for my room. “I am. Give me five minutes to change.”
“Okay. Need something to eat?”
Vicki was a godsend. The woman could cook like nobody’s business. She saved my ass plenty of times over the years, leaving food in the fridge for me to heat up.
“If there’s something quick. If not, I’ll eat later.”
I kicked my door closed, just in case Vicki’s boyfriend was lurking somewhere, and stripped off my work clothes. Ideally, I’d take a shower to get rid of the funk from the day, but I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Vicki’s friends had welcomed me into their group without question. They were sweet and funny and dirty and wonderful.
And didn’t care if I showed up sweaty and smelling clinical.
There were definitely worse things I could smell like.
I tossed my scrubs in the laundry basket, reminding myself that I needed to do a load when we got home, and found something clean. Yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt fit my mood. Plus, I didn’t have time to look for anything nicer.
Vicki had a plate of food waiting for me when I walked into the kitchen. I barely cared what it was, but grinned when I saw the pulled pork, mac and cheese, and green beans. She always made sure I got something healthy.
“You’re amazing.”
“Funny, that’s what Hunter says,” Vicki replied with a wink.
“Ew. I don’t need to hear about that.”
“Oh, you love it.”
“Um, no.”
“Well, you and Wyatt need to hurry up and hook up. Then we can trade notes.”
“Oh, shit, where did that come from?”
Vicki rolled her eyes. “Please. I saw the two of you flirting at the Thanksgiving party.”
I snorted. “You’re insane. We were talking about how content we both are to be single. Not planning when we can hook up.”
“I think you two would be great together.”
“Really?” I challenged. “Because he’s as much of a workaholic as I am. The only good part of any relationship between us would be no messy break-up. We’d both just forget to call the other with all the shit we deal with daily.”
“Give yourself more credit than that,” she argued. “You could make it work if you wanted to. You’ve been coming to girls’ night. And so is he.”
“Do you think Charlie would mind if we screwed in the kitchen while all of you talked?” I asked with a straight face.
“Seriously? Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I shook my head. “Damn. Then I don’t think it’ll work.”
“You’re messing with me, right?”
I shrugged. “We’ll never know now. I could have had something magical with Mayor Ramsey in the back of Bite Me! It could have been forever.”
Vicki finally caught on to my teasing and rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
I laughed. “You’re the one telling me, the serial anti-dater, to go after the mayor of Winterville, another serial anti-dater, and you think it could actually work out. And I’m ridiculous?”
“Fine. Don’t go out with him. I just think you guys would be good together.”
I shrugged. I wouldn’t deny that Wyatt was sexy as all hell, but I wasn’t in a place to start a relationship. Especially if Laura was being honest about thinking of leaving. My workload was big enough. If Laura left and I had to find someone new, I’d be lucky to have a date before I turned forty.
Yeah, three years from now.
“I think you need to keep your happily ever after between you and Hunter. Leave Wyatt and I to our own content singledom.”
“If you say so,” Vicki said in a tone that said she wasn’t buying it.
I didn’t care. I wasn’t trying to sell her. I knew what I wanted. And it wasn’t a new complication.
No matter how hot he was.
