CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

I look at the time on my phone for what must be the twentieth time.

Where the hell is Alessandro?

After convincing me thay we should see a gynecologist together and sending me the date and time I should be there, he is now a no-show.

Maybe it's for the best anyway because he's been hovering around me for the last two days whenever he's at my place as if I'm already pregnant.

And according to Phoebe, I was supposed to get my period if that damn pill was successful, and so far nothing has happened. Not even one tiny red spot. But that's not what Google said. Apparently, I'll get my period on schedule or maybe like a week earlier.

It doesn't really matter, what matters is, is that I'm in the waiting room of a gynecologist with Thomas as my companion who is languidly browsing through pregnancy magazines.

"Planning on getting someone knocked up?" I joke, trying to hide my nerves.

"Pregnancy is a beautiful thing." He replies without looking up from whatever it is that he's reading.