I’ll be home in three days. We can plot some murders then.
Three more days… it seemed like forever. The robotic voice announced that we were nearing my stop.
G2g. See you when you come back. Love you.I texted quickly before sliding the phone back in my pocket and running up the steps. Seriously, living in London was the best cardio I ever had.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself as I thought of Ethan, who would most likely recommend a much different type of cardio.
I made it to the medical center and I’d barely sat on one of the very uncomfortable plastic chairs when I was called in by a nurse dressed in bright pink scrubs.
“I'll just go through all the initial questions and tests and you will be back in a few days to see the doctor, okay?”
I nodded, like I had a choice.
“Remove your shoes and stand against the wall.”
She walked to me and pulled something out before she rested it on top of my head. “5’2’’,” she said, scribbling the numbers down on her pad. “Step onto the scale, please.”
“Actually, it’s 5’2’’ and a half.”
“No, it’s not,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the pad as she ticked boxes. “Scale, please.”
Damn it! How could someone dress so brightly and yet be so robotic?
I sighed, stepping onto the cold metallic scale.
“140—a little overweight.”
I turned around, my mouth hanging open. “I’m not overweight! At all!” How could she say something like that? I was a UK size eight. I decided right then that I disliked this woman.
She looked up, clearly unfazed by my outburst. “Please have a seat.”
I sighed with irritation.
“Could you please pull up your sleeve? I need to take some blood.”
I pulled up my shirt and hissed as she pricked my skin and drew two tubes of blood.
“Here, press on this,” she said as she put a little cotton ball on my arm. “How old are you?” she asked, sitting behind her desk and grabbing her clipboard.
“Twenty-five.”
“Are you taking any medication?”
“I’m on the pill. I’ve been on it for five years. Nothing else.”
She nodded as she scribbled on her pad.
“Pap smear?”
“Six months ago.”
“Sexually active?”
“No. Yes.”
She looked up from her chart with an arched eyebrow—probably thinking there was something wrong with me. But honestly, if it had not been for that night with Hugo, I had not had sex for almost five months.
“Yes or no?”