Page 92 of The Lucky One
“Busy with a taken man,” I retorted, glancing at Jackson, who huffed.
“He broke up with Madison. I’m not a cheater like you,” Breana shot back.
Ignoring her, I turned to Jackson. “You broke up with her despite... you know?” I glanced down at my belly, then back at him.
He popped a piece of gum in his mouth. “It’s her fault she didn’t take the morning-after pill,” he said, chewing. “Not my problem.”
My palm flew through the air and slapped his cheek so fast, I barely registered it.
“Fuck!” he yelped, holding the side of his face.
“You fucking asshole. It takes two to get someone pregnant. You’re a coward to leave her alone in this,” I hissed so only he and Breana could hear.
“Pregnant?!” Breana squealed.
I didn’t explain further, just walked away, shaking my head. No one deserved this, not even Madison.
“Anti-baby Pill”
Kiki
When I told my parents I was choosing Princeton over Yale, I could’ve just as well said I wasn’t going to college at all. There was yelling, lots of yelling—mostly between me and Mom. Dad sat on the couch, clearing his throat whenever things got too loud. The argument went from college choices to bribing Jon to the admissions essay I’d actually sent to finally admitting how their helicopter parenting was choking me. Mom broke down in tears, and somehow I ended up comforting her. By the end, we were on the floor, laughing, looking up hotels near Princeton. We decided to improve things by spending more time together, and Mom promised me more freedom for the remaining weeks I was here.
Now, I was sitting at the reception in her office, helping out with paperwork. I’d been doing this since I was sixteen, another boost for my college applications. But she never let me do anything important, even though I had the know-how. I only organized files and made sure everything was in order for the next appointment.
My mom rushed into the reception. “Honey, a new patient’s in room 2B. Could you please tell her I’ll be a few minutes late? I haven’t had a minute to eat lunch and my blood sugar’s dropping.”
“Of course,” I said.
This was my chance. I could start going over the basics with the patient and prove to my mother that I could do more than paperwork. Technically, it was against the law for a student to see patients, but I was tired of waiting to finally get a taste of what it was like. Grabbing a clipboard with partially filled-out documents, I opened the door to room 2B.
“Hello, I’m Katherine Moore, I’ll be prepping you for—” I began, but stopped as I read the name at the top of the clipboard. My gaze shot up to see her—pale, lips parted, dressed in an examination gown with her golden hair cascading over it.
“Kiki?” Emily gasped. “You work here?” She nervously adjusted the gown, crossing her knees.
“Um,” I croaked. “You’re at my mother’s clinic. I sometimes help out,” I lied.
“But I thought her name was Dr. Chanakit,” Emily said, avoiding my eyes.
“She kept her last name when she got married,” I explained, offering a reassuring smile and walking over to the chair where my mother conducted patient consultations. Emily was just a patient deserving of my professional attention.
“Oh...” Emily mumbled, fidgeting with her fingers. I couldn’t help but notice her constant need to occupy herself physically. Bouncing legs, tugging at her fingertips, shifting her gaze around the room—it seemed like a habitual behavior.
“I need to go over a few things with you before my mother comes in for the examination. Is that okay?”
“Um, sure.” She nodded quickly.
“I see you’re here for a routine checkup. And you requested—” I hesitated. The form inaccurately noted Anti-baby pill. Suppressing a chuckle, I said, “We typically call it contraceptive pills, not anti-baby pills.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her cheeks reddening.
“No need to apologize. You’re not from America.” Realizing I might have sounded patronizing, I shifted focus. “Anyway, do you have any known illnesses, and when was your last checkup?”
“Just a sensitive stomach, but it’s gotten a lot better, and, um... my last checkup was before I came to Boonville,” she replied.
Taking notes, I continued, “Any recent symptoms?”
“Like what?” she asked.