“Because the man is an asshole with absolutely no fucking bedside manner. Not only did he imply that Morgan was at fault, but then he accused her of cheating on her husband without asking a single question.”
“Are you Mr. Peterson?” Dr. Adams asked King.
“No, Kingston O’Rourke. Chasm...” King stiffened against me and more tears fell, knowing he was hurting as much as I was. “Jude was my brother. He died a few days ago.”
“I am so sorry,” Dr. Adams said with genuine sympathy.
“Morgan… may I call you Morgan?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Morgan, I am so sorry to have to tell you that you lost the baby. You had what is called an ectopic pregnancy. The embryo didn’t travel into the uterus the way it should have; something held it up, and it attached inside the fallopian tube.”
“And you couldn’t save the baby?” King asked for me.
But I’d been reading every book I could get my hands on since the moment those two pink lines appeared. I knew what an ectopic pregnancy was. Knew there was nothing they could do.
“Unfortunately, no. The baby continues to grow inside the tube until the tube can no longer contain it, and it bursts. That was what caused Morgan to pass out and also the bleeding.”
Dr. Adams looked at me.
“If Mr. O’Rourke hadn’t found you when he did, you would have died.”
“I wish I had,” I whispered.
King tightened his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “He wouldn’t want that, Morgan.”
“I didn’t want this, King. I didn’t want him to be killed. We don’t always get what we want.”
King kissed my head again and said, “Thank you.”
“There is more,” Dr. Adams announced. “The tube was damaged beyond repair, and we had to remove it. This doesn’t mean you’ll never be able to have another child, but having only one tube does lower the chances. There is also a greater risk it could happen again in the other tube.”
“It doesn’t matter. My husband is gone. I won’t be having more children.”
“Don’t say that, Morgan. You were so excited about having the baby. He’d still want you to have that.”
“I was excited about havinghisbaby, King. And I can never have that again.”
He didn’t argue with me; he just looked at me with those sad eyes. The same way he’d been looking at me every night when he came to check on me.
“Morgan, decisions shouldn’t be made in times of mourning,” Dr. Adams said. “I would like you to come to my office for a follow up in three weeks.” He looked at King. “I apologize for my colleague’s behavior; I will speak to him about it. And you are well within your rights to file a report.”
I got the impression that this wasn’t the first time Dr. Howard had been inappropriate, and I was willing to bet it had a lot to do with that cut King wore.
Dr. Adams handed King a card which he put in his cut.
“Morgan, again, I am so sorry for your loss. Come see me in three weeks.” Dr. Adams nodded at King and left the room.
“You aren’t going to report Dr. Howard, are you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Fuck no.”
I lowered my voice to barely a whisper. “Please don’t kill him.”
King chuckled. “And here I thought you weren’t old lady material.”
“Really?” I asked, looking up at him.