Page 55 of Good For Me

Jas

“You’re fidgeting.”

“Because I’m nervous as fuck,” I snap. Two of the well-dressed, previously blissful-looking pregnant women in the waiting room direct glares at me. I glare right back, tempted to tell them to mind their own fucking business, but River takes my hand, squeezing gently, a silent reminder to take a breath.

“You ever meditate?” he asks, and I turn my glare on him.

“Do I look like the kind of person who meditates?” I snap, and I can see him fighting a smile.

“Nope. But it can help with anxiety. Even for surly, combat-boot-wearing, rave-going badasses like you.” He grins that easy River grin and I have to remind my belly that butterflies are not allowed. I’m not here to flirt with River Ransome. I’m here to let some stranger poke around at my lady bits and tell me whether or not my head in the sand act over the last several weeks fucked things up for my unborn baby.

“I can teach you a few breathing exercises—” he starts laughing. Apparently, the scowl on my face is too ferocious for him to even finish that sentence.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kensington?” a pleasant voice calls, and one of the hugely pregnant women stands, adjusting a string of pearls—she’s seriously wearing pearls. To a doctor’s office— and takes her husband’s hand. They grin at each other, looking so obviously thrilled and excited, then follow the nurse to the back like they’re on their way to receive some amazing treat.

“I think we picked the wrong doctor,” I tell River. “All of these people look rich. And happy. Andnormal.”

He laughs again. “My sister assured me that Doctor Wiezman is very good. She’s known her for years. And Rose isn’t exactly what I’d call normal.”

This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned his big, sprawling family. I’m kind of fascinated by them, to be honest. I would have thought that being the children of rich and famous rock stars would make them all spoiled and stuck up. But he talks about his siblings and cousins like they’re just regular people.

Honestly, River is surprising to me in the same way. At first glance he’s a total rich boy slacker. It’s definitely the way I saw him when he started at Davie’s Pub. Not serious about work, spending most of his time surfing and hooking up. The way he goes through jobs should have been a giant red flag in and of itself…

Except for the fact that I’m starting to wonder if River actuallyhasto work at all. When he told me he found a doctor for me to see, my first thought was about cost. Would my shitty insurance policy cover it? Even if it did, how was I going to afford all the co-pay and co-insurance bullshit costs that go along with it?

River had been adamant that it didn’t matter—whatever insurance didn’t cover, he would handle. He’d said it like it was nothing at all. He didn’t even want to call the office and get a cost estimate so he was prepared. It certainly seems like money isn’t something he ever has to worry about.

Which would make sense. Not only is his father the lead singer in a massively popular band, he’s also a co-owner of one the most successful record labels in the world. That whole family has to be swimming in money.

But you wouldn’t really know that when you look at River. He drives a fairly beat up old Jeep. He lives in torn jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. He mentioned that he shares a house with three other people. And no matter how flippantly he seems to take his job, the fact is, he always has one. Every time he quits or loses a job for some stupid reason, he goes right out and gets a new one.

Why would he do that, if his parents spoil him with money?

“Miss Weaver?” that same cheery voice as before calls, and I jump in my seat. Speculating on River’s family at least had the benefit of keeping me from obsessing about the appointment. But now that I’m the one being called back to the exam room, the nerves come crashing back in.

“Breathe,” River instructs, pulling me up into a standing position. “We’ve got this.”

I let him hold my hand all the way to the back, mainly because I think my knees might go out if I let go. I shouldn’t be this nervous. Women do this shit literally every second of every day.

But it was never supposed to be me,I think feebly.

“Are we excited?” the nurse or assistant or whoever she is asks in a voice so saccharinely cheerful I could gag. She’s wearing hot pink scrubs with tiny cartoon baby bottles all over them. I have a feeling this woman and I wouldn’t get along.

“Little nervous,” River says easily.

“Oooh,” she coos. “There’s nothing to be nervous about! You’re going to get to see a picture of your tiny little baby love bug today!” She squeezes my arm. “You’ll remember this forever, Momma!”

I have no idea what my face must look like but River is clearly trying not to laugh as he watches me. “We’ll keep that in mind,” he says, in that same easy voice, like all of this isn’t the absolute worst way he could be spending his day.

Thankfully, the woman hands me a gown, instructs me to change, then bustles out, leaving us in peace and quiet. Well, as much peace as possible with my heart pounding out of my chest.

“Want me to step out?” River asks, nodding down to the gown I’m clutching. He looks uncomfortable for the first time today. Up until this point, he’s been almost aggravatingly calm.

“You can just turn around,” I tell him. No sense in being overly modest now. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before. Besides, from the tiny bit of internet research I did on prenatal visits before slamming the laptop shut in disgust, I have a feeling privacy is about to go completely out the window.

“That’s okay,” he says, in that same weirdly strained voice. He’s already reaching for the door handle, and he won’t meet my eyes. “I don’t want to crowd you. I’ll just step out.” Before I can say a word, he basically sprints from the room.

“Okay…” I mutter under my breath. Apparently, the mere thought of me naked is enough to send River into a blind panic. I guess pregnancy isn’t exactly sexy.