Fifty Shades Freed (Fifty Shades 3) - Chapter 123

Dr. Greene’s office is spacious, minimalist, and well appointed.

“I’m so grateful you caught me before I left,” I mumble, still shellshocked. “My father’s been in a car accident, and we’ve just moved him here from Portland.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. How’s he doing?”

“He’s doing okay, thank you. On the mend.”

“That’s good. And it explains why you cancelled on Friday.”

Dr. Greene wiggles the mouse on her desk, and her computer comes to life.

“Yes . . . it’s been over thirteen weeks. You’re cutting it a bit fine. We’d better do a test before we give you another shot.”

“A test?” I whisper, all the blood rushing from my head.

“A pregnancy test.”

Oh no.

She reaches into the drawer of her desk. “You know what to do with this.” She hands me a small container. “The restroom is just outside my office.”

I get up as if in a trance, my whole body robotic, operating on automatic pilot, and stumble to the restroom.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. How could I have let this happen . . . again?

I suddenly feel sick and offer a silent prayer while I pee . Please no. Please no. It’s too soon. It’s too soon. It’s too soon. When I reenter Dr. Greene’s office, she gives me a tight smile and waves me to the seat in front of her desk. I sit down and wordlessly hand her my sample. She dips a small white stick into it and watches. She raises her eyebrows as it turns pale blue.

“What does that mean? The blue?” The tension is almost choking me.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide. “Well, Mrs. Grey, it means you’re pregnant.”

What? No. No. No.

Fuck.

Chapter Twenty

I gape at Dr. Greene, my world collapsing around me. A baby. A baby. I don’t want a baby . . . not yet. Fuck. And I know deep down that Christian is going to freak.

“Mrs. Grey, you’re very pale. Would you like a glass of water?”

“Please.” My voice is a barely audible. My mind is racing. Pregnant? When?

“I take it you’re surprised.”

I nod mutely at the good doctor as she hands me a glass of water from her conveniently placed water cooler. I take a welcome sip.

“Shocked,” I whisper.

“We could do an ultrasound to see how advanced the pregnancy is. Judging by your reaction, I suspect you’re just a couple of weeks or so from conception – – four or five weeks pregnant. I take it you haven’t been suffering any other symptoms?”

I shake my head mutely. Symptoms? I don’t think so. “I thought . . . I thought this was a reliable form of contraceptive.”

Dr. Greene arches a brow. “It normally is, when you remember to have the shot,” she says coolly.

“I must have lost track of time.” Christian is going to freak. I know it.

“Have you been bleeding at all?”

I frown. “No.”

“That’s normal for the Depo. Shall we have a look at you? I have time.”

I nod, bewildered, and Dr. Greene directs me toward a black leather table behind a screen.

“If you’ll just slip off your skirt and underwear, we’ll go from there,” she says briskly.

Underwear? I was expecting an ultrasound scan over my belly. Why do I need to remove my panties? I shrug in consternation then quickly do as she says and lie down beneath the soft white blanket.

“That’s good.” Dr. Greene appears at the end of the table, pulling the ultrasound machine closer. It’s a hi-tech stack of computers. Sitting down, she positions the screen so that we can both see it and jogs the trackball on the keyboard. The screen pings into life.

“If you could lift and bend your knees, then part them wide,” she says matter-of-factly.

What?

“This is a transvaginal ultrasound. If you’re only just pregnant, we should be able to find the baby with this.” She holds up a long white probe.

Oh – you have got to be kidding!

“Okay,” I mutter, mortified, and do as she says. Greene pulls a condom over the wand and lubricates it with clear gel.

“Right, Mrs. Grey, if you could relax.”

Relax? I’m pregnant, damn it! How do you expect me to relax? I blush, and endeavor to find my happy place . . . which has relocated somewhere near the lost Island of Atlantis. Slowly and gently she inserts the probe. Holy f**k.

All I can see on the screen is the visual equivalent of white noise –

although it’s more sepia in color. Slowly, Dr. Greene moves the probe about, and it’s very disconcerting.

“There,” she murmurs. She presses a button, freezing the picture on the screen, and points to a tiny blip in the sepia storm. It’s a little blip. There’s a tiny little blip in my belly. Tiny. Wow. I forget my discomfort as I stare shell-shocked at the blip.

“It’s too early to see the heartbeat, but yes, you’re definitely pregnant. Four or five weeks, I would say.” She frowns. “Looks like the shot ran out early. Oh well, that happens.”

What! I am too stunned to say anything. The little blip is a baby. A real honest to goodness baby. Christian’s baby. My baby. Holy cow . A baby!

“Would you like me to print out a picture for you?”

I nod, still unable to speak, and Dr. Greene presses a button. Then she gently removes the wand and hands me a paper towel to clean myself.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Grey,” she says as I sit up. “We’ll need to make another appointment. I suggest in four weeks’ time. Then we can ascertain the exact age of your baby and set a likely due date. You can get dressed now.”

“Okay.” I’m reeling and I dress hurriedly. I have a blip, a little blip. When I emerge from behind the screen, Dr. Greene is back at her desk.

“In the meantime, I’d like you to start this course of folic acid and multivitamins. Here’s a leaflet of dos and don’ts.” As she hands me a package of pills and a leaflet, she continues to talk at me, but I’m not listening. I’m in shock. Overwhelmed. Surely I should be happy. Surely I should be thirty . . . at least. This is too soon – far too soon. I try to quell my rising sense of panic.