Unmasking Charlotte (a Taboo Love series) (24 page)

Just thinking about that night makes me laugh hysterically. I must look like a loon just sitting here at my desk, cracking myself up. I get myself together and wipe away the tears of laughter so I can attempt to wrap up my work and go home early. My bed is seriously calling my name. Of course, as soon as I delve into my work, my phone chirps, telling me that I have a text. Obviously, checking the text is much more important than getting my work finished, so I reach into my drawer and grab my phone, swiping it open in the process. Delilah. Yay!

LaLa: How u feeling lady?

Charlie: Like shit…still

LaLa: Sorry :( Anything I can do to help?

Charlie: Nah, just need to let it run its course

LaLa: Maybe it’s time to go to the dr

Is she really going to start this?

Charlie: I’m fine. Don’t need a dr

LaLa: It’s been months. U need a dr

Yep, she sure is.

Charlie: It’s getting better

LaLa: Are u still nauseous?

Charlie: Yes, mom

LaLa: Throwing up?

Charlie: u know I am

LaLa: Then u need a dr

Charlie: ok

LaLa: Are u just
yessing me?

Charlie: Maybe?

LaLa: Omg. What if something is seriously wrong?

Charlie: I am fine, La

LaLa: What if it’s a tumor?

She is seriously out of control. I start speaking aloud like Arnold Schwarzenegger as I type the next line.

Charlie: It’s not a tuma!

LaLa: Ok, maybe not. Have u taken a test?

Test? What the hell is she talking about. She knows that I haven’t gone to see any doctors yet to take any kind of tests.

Charlie: What?

LaLa: A test, Char. A pregnancy test

I can just see her typing that out
hiding the words, like she is whispering some big offensive word or telling me a national secret.

Charlie: LOL. Come on, u know that’s not even possible

LaLa: Just sayin’, weirder things have happened

Oh my god, she never gives up! I have had enough of this conversation. This will shut her up…

Charlie: I hate your guts

LaLa: U
love my guts

Before I get the chance to respond again, my cell rings. I see it’s LaLa and greet her accordingly.

“I hate your guts,” I say, no niceties required.

“Shut up, you love my guts, twat face.” She chuckles
. It’s nice having a best friend that I can insult, and instead of getting angry, she just ups the ante and gives it back to me two-fold.

“No, I hate your guts. I love your boobs, but I hate your guts,” I say, trying not to laugh.

“Please, lady, have you looked in the mirror lately. I don’t know what kind of magic vitamins you are taking, but you’re catching up to my double D’s.” She snorts.

I look down at my boobs to see what she is talking about.
I lift them, squeeze them together, and do a little shimmy. Maybe they do look a
little
bigger, but I have put on a few pounds; I guess I just assumed that it went with the territory.

Delilah and I go back and forth trading a few more barbs when I start to get a hot flash. This can’t be normal. I end the conversation, pack up, and
head to Calvin at the club. Hopefully, I won’t have to pull off to the side of the road to vomit. Maybe it is time to see a doctor.

Calvin

I am standing behind th
e bar checking inventory with my bartender when I see Charlotte walk through the main wooden doors. She is still in her work clothes, wearing a spare mask; Monica keeps a few at the entry for any members who forget theirs. I look at my watch and it is only two o’clock. Why the hell isn’t she at work? As she gets closer, I can see that – even while masked – her face is ruddy, she is sweating, and her breathing is a little heavy. I round the bar to get to her quickly, wanting to make sure that she is all right. Just as I reach her, she collapses into my arms.

“Charlotte…baby girl… talk to me. Are you okay?” I ask anxiously.

“It’s…I…no,” she says, shaking her head frantically.

“
Do I need to call 911?” I ask, trying to stay calm but freaking the fuck out on the inside.

“No, but can you take me to my doctor? I called them on my way here,” she barely gets out, short of breath.

I scoop Charlotte up into my arms, holler to my bartender to finish what I started, and head out to my truck. Between Monica and him, I am confident that the club will be taken care of.

I dri
ve to her doctor’s office as quickly as I can without killing us both. When I look over at Charlotte, she looks…sick. How have I not seen this before? I extend my arm across the console and rub my hand up and down her arm. Now she is clammy. Shit!

Surprisingly, I am able to get a
parking spot right in front of the medical center. She won’t let me carry her in even though it is completely against my caveman instinct. She waves me off and I let her walk in on her own accord, but insist on at least having my arm wrapped around her waist. She seems to have put on a couple of pounds, so she can’t be that sick, right? Not that I care, or would ever mention a thing about it. She damn near ripped my head off when I told her that her ass is plump and juicy. I love my girl and her curves.

The nurse
calls Charlotte within minutes of her signing in. When she stands up, she reaches her hand out behind her for me to grab it and follow. It makes me happy that she wants me to go back with her, but I was going to go regardless. As we make our way to one of the rooms, we first pit stop in a small alcove for weights and measures. Charlotte makes me turn around before she steps on the scale. What is it with women and how much they weigh? Shaking my head and with a huff, I do as she asks, but I can’t help smiling. I would do anything for this girl.

Once we settle into the tiny exam room, the nurse proceeds to take her blood pressure, oxygen levels, and temperature. She pricks her finger for a quick blood test,
and then lastly, she gives Charlotte a little clear cup with a lid to go pee in. I hang back in the room while she goes to take care of that business. I like to think that we share everything, but there a few things that can remain mysterious for now. And watching her use the bathroom is one of them.

Charlotte
slowly hops up onto the exam table and I take a seat on a folding chair in the corner, waiting for what seems like forever for the doctor to see us. She seems to be feeling much better.
Thank god!
She really scared me earlier when she came into the club looking as she did. We sit around making idle chit-chat, then we both start messing with our phones, wasting time. A few minutes later, my phone bings denoting a text.

Pinky: Come here often?

I let out a chuckle. Not sure if it’s more because we are sitting five feet away from each other and she is texting me, or because she just used the cheesiest pick up line on me.

Calvin:
Def not my usual hang ou
t

Pinky: No? I can totally see u as a hot dr coming in to treat me

I glance up from my phone and raise an eyebrow at her. Is she trying to get me worked up? She just smiles sweetly, but I can see through the sweetness to the evil temptress underneath.

Calvin: Funny u say that b/c I think u are due for an anal probe. I can help u with that

I hear her snort and I can’t help but smile. Before she gets the opportunity to shoot me down, the doctor walks into the room. Nice timing, doc!

“Good afternoon, Ms. Fisher,” he says, looking back at her file. Smooth doc, he can at least look at her file before entering the room.

“Hello,” Charlotte answers confidently.

He then turns to me and I stand, extending my hand.

“Derek Fox, MD,” he introduces himself pretentiously. Douchbag.

“Calvin King, boyfriend,” I respond mockingly.

We shake hands and he turns back to Charlotte. “Okay if we speak in front of present company?” he asks and I want to knock him upside his head.

“Of course,” she replies, winking at me
. She extends her hand toward mine, grabs it, and pulls me closer.

“
Alright then, what seems to be the problem?” he asks.

Charlotte spends the next five minutes explaining all of her symptoms, when they started, how long they have lasted, and how she has been treating them. I feel like the absolute worst boyfriend in the world. I can’t believe how long this has been going on and I haven’t
insisted on her seeking treatment. I am an ass.

Dr. Fox is diligently taking notes, barely looking up to make eye contact with Charlotte as she
spills her medical guts. He really is a tool. When he finally realizes that Charlotte is finished talking, he continues to studies his notes for a few more minutes before speaking. Charlotte and I just give each other a look, both knowing what we are each thinking. Both trying not to laugh at this ass hat. I can’t wait to get her out of here and continue our conversation about anal probing.

He taps his pen on his
chin a few times, and then the genius finally starts asking questions. “So, you have been feeling nauseous for a few months, you say?”

“Yes,” she answers politely.

“And you have gained some weight?” he asks, stupidly. She just got through telling him all of this shit.

“Yes,” she again answers politely, but I know better. Charlotte is starting to get annoyed, and that is one girl you don’t want to piss off.

“When was your last menstrual cycle?”

Charlotte pauses a few seconds. I can tell that she is trying to work out the
time period in her head. No pun intended. “About three months or so, I’m never regular.” She shrugs, thinking nothing of it. Neither do I, come to think of it.

“Have you taken a home pregnancy test?” Dr. Douchebag asks.

“No,” she answers simply.

“Why not?” he asks looking dumb founded. Can I punch him in the face now?

“I can’t get pregnant,” she answers simply.

“What do you mean, you ‘can’t get pregnant’?”

“I am physically unable to get pregnant. I only have one fallopian tube and it is badly scarred. My gynecologist told me that there is practically no chance of getting pregnant.” I move closer so I can grab her hand again, knowing that this is a very sensitive subject.

“
’Practically none’ is not the same as ‘none,’ Charlotte,” he replies. Charlotte and I turn to look at each other again, both of us wide eyed.

“What are you saying, Doctor?” I ask, while the cat has Charlotte’s tongue.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Dr. Jerk Face back tracks. “You left a urine sample, right?” he questions.

Charlotte nods her head
.

“Okay, I will have the nurse dip in a pregnancy test stick while I complete my physical exam. I will also have her come in
here to do a rapid strep test and take a mucus sample to rule out the flu,” he spits out rapid fire as he heads for the door. Dr. Dill Weed has some great bedside manner.

He
leaves for a brief moment to get the nurse, but no words are exchanged between Charlotte and me. I can’t take the silence and not having my hands on her, so I lean in to hug her and whisper in her ear. “Whatever happens, we are in this together. No matter the results, I will be with you every step of the way.” She nods, and although she doesn’t say anything, I feel her smile on my neck. After a few more seconds, she finds her voice.

“I don’t know what to say. Having a baby has never been in the cards for me. I don’t even want to hope for it. I don’t know how to feel. Will I be disappointed if the test comes back negative or positive? This is freaking insane. It’s just the flu, right? It’s probably just the flu.”

“Yeah, it’s probably just the flu, baby girl,” I tell her knowing that is what she needs to hear; however, on the inside, I am convinced that she is pregnant. And interestingly, that doesn’t scare me one bit.

The nurse and doctor return as Charlotte finishes convincing herself that she has the flu and that there is no way she is pregnant
. The nurse takes all of the tests the doctor ordered, and he performs his physical examination.

“I’ll be back with the results,” he tells us, “try to relax.”

As soon as the door closes, I try to cut her anxiety with a little comic relief. “Why do people always tell you to try to relax when they know that there is no possibility of that happening? It’s like telling a woman to calm down after finding her man cheating. Not gonna happen.”

I get the reaction I was looking for when Charlotte lets out a chuckle. That laugh gets to me every time. I can’t help but laugh along with her. As we are laughing, our eyes meet, and the mood in the room suddenly shifts from nervous energy to electric lust.

“I know that look, Pinky. Not here, and not until we know what’s going on with your health.”

Charlotte pouts,
sticking out that lower lip and I just want to chew on it. So I do. My cock starts stirring in my pants, it wants attention, and it wants it now. Of course, Dr. Twat Face uses his perfect timing to come back into the room and kill the mood. And my erection.

Charlotte sees the tent in my pants, and
the strain on my face and lets out another snicker. Evil little minx will pay for this later. I decide to keep my position right smack against her. No telling what the results will be, and I want her to know she can always lean on me.

“So I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?” he inquires.

Charlotte and I both take a deep breath at the same time and let it out slowly. “Bad,” she answers before we discuss what we want to hear. It is her results, so…

“I saw
in your chart that you have a cat. Do you still have a cat?”

“Um, yeah,” she replies.

“Is there somewhere else the cat can live for the next few months?”

“Why? Am I allergic to Horse? Is that why I have been so sick?”

“No, Ms. Fisher. Have you ever heard of Toxoplasmosis?”

“
No, is that what I have?” Charlotte asks worriedly.

“
Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask Dr. Ass Clown. I have to sit down for a minute to gather my thoughts. Is this really happening?
Holy fucking shit!

Charlotte turns
to me with a stunned look on her face, obviously not understanding my reaction. However, I do know what Toxoplasmosis is.

“Calvin? You’re scaring me. What’s happening?” she asks me
, half freaking out.

The doctor starts to explain, but I just hold my hand up to him. This is my girl. I got this.
I stand back up, smiling ear to ear.

“Baby
girl, look at me,” I tell her. I need her full attention for this. “Horse is going to come live with me for a few months. Then you will follow. Time for us to live together,” I tell her. There will be no ifs, ands, or buts about this.

“
Calvin, if I wasn’t freaking out before, I am now. What’s happening? Am I dying?”

“No, Pinks, you’re not dying. We’re pregnant.”