Page 67 of Hell On Heels
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The day was cool and clear, a perfect day for walking, Lottie thought as she headed to the clinic. Two blocks from work she came up short when a woman stepped in front of her.
She recognized her and knew this was probably going to be a short conversation. Her heart pounded in her throat as Lottie stared at Shannon. What really scared her was that the woman had disappeared right after Razor got the test results.
She knew from Razor that Shannon was not carrying his child, she wasn’t expecting a baby at all. It was a Pseudocyesis pregnancy.
“Hello,” Shannon said, smiling at Lottie.
“Good morning.”
Lottie watched Shannon rub a hand over her stomach. “How are you feeling these days, Shannon.” She saw the way the woman narrowed her stare.
Shannon continued rubbing a hand over her stomach. “I wanted to make sure you were okay at hearing the news.”
“What news would that be?” Lottie asked Shannon.
“That me and Merritt are getting married… and we’re having a baby.”
“I didn’t know that.” Lottie gave her a bright smile. “I wish you both all the best.”
Excusing herself she moved past Shannon.
Lottie kept her pace brisk as she rounded the corner and approached the clinic. She could feel the pulse of her heartbeat quicken, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the unexpected encounter with Shannon or the fact that she had just lied so effortlessly. Her own smile had been a carefully crafted mask, one that hid the flash of anger that had surged in her chest when Shannon had mentioned Razor.
“Getting married… and we’re having a baby.”
The words echoed in Lottie’s head, mixing with the sick feeling that had gnawed at her since she first learned about Shannon’s condition. Pseudocyesis. It wasn’t a real pregnancy, but to Shannon, it felt every bit as real as the weight of a baby growing inside her. How could she just stand there and lie so smoothly, making Lottie believe she had a future with Razor when she knew the truth?
But Lottie also knew that Shannon was playing a dangerous game. And worried more every day that it was her that caused the motorcycle accident.
Lottie shook her head as she stepped through the clinic’s door, pushing away the thoughts that threatened to crowd her mind.Focus,she reminded herself.
Inside, the quiet hum of the clinic enveloped her, grounding her as she moved past the front desk and into the back hallway. There was comfort in the familiar scent of antiseptic and the soft shuffle of nurses’ shoes on linoleum. It was a sanctuary of sorts, where everything made sense.
But for just a moment, before she pushed it all aside, the memory of Shannon’s voice, smug and sweet as honey, stayed with her.“I wanted to make sure you were okay at hearing the news.”
Shaking her head, Lottie felt bad for the woman, from a nurse’s perspective, it was heartbreaking. Lottie had seen this before…patients who convinced themselves of things that weren’t real, their minds wrapped in delusions that became as tangible to them as any physical ailment. Pseudocyesis, though rare, wasn’t uncommon in the world Lottie worked in. The psychological toll could be as devastating as any physical disease, and it was hard to watch someone suffer from it.
But Shannon’s case, with all its complexity, felt different.
Lottie understood the layers of need—emotional, psychological, maybe even a bit of a desperate desire to be needed or wanted. It wasn’t just the pregnancy that Shannon clung to; it was theideaof being seen, of having Merritt’s love and devotion. And who could blame her for wanting that, especially if she felt her world slipping through her fingers? But that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
Shannon wasn’t just sick in the way someone with a physical ailment might be. She was tangled in a web of her own making. Lottie could see the way it was starting to consume her, making Shannon fragile in ways that only someone like Lottie, who had seen people break down in front of her, could truly understand.
It must be exhausting, living in a world of half-truths. But Lottie couldn’t force herself to feel pity. Turning around she slammed into Razor. She felt his strong hands grip her biceps, steading her as she stepped back. “Lottie?”
“I ran into her on my way here,” she said in a rush.
“Who?”
“Shannon. She’s believes you’re getting married and that she’s still having your baby.”
Razor pulled Lottie into his arms, running a hand over her back as he tried to remain calm. “We’re going to have to file a police report. I’m concerned she’s going to do something to hurt you.”
“What about you? You’re the focus of her attention,” Lottie asked him, more concerned for Razor than for herself.
“I can take care of myself.” He kept her in his arms. tight, “I’m more worried about her coming after you. We still don’t know who caused the accident.”
