Page 60 of Bombshell

“My tailbone?”

“You had quite a fall. You really shouldn’t have been riding.” The admonishment is gentle but stern.

“I’ve been riding my whole life,” I say, feeling suddenly defensive. “I know how to take a fall.”

“There’s no good way to take a fall when you’re expecting and hitting your head didn’t help,” she says, holding up a hand. “It’s very likely there will be delivery complications. Your tailbone has fractured, which could prevent the baby from descending properly. It might be necessary to perform a cesarean-section. You can try for natural childbirth, which is ideal, but you will need to be closely monitored during labor.”

I haven’t even thought as far as that, about what happens when I actually have the baby. Isn’t that the easy part? Painful, sure. But just something that happens. You get pregnant. You have the baby.

“I have to stay in London?” I cling to this one bit of good news. My father can’t make me leave.

“I can’t stop you from returning to the states, but I would caution against it. It’s an unnecessary risk to travel that far. What’s done is done, but you will need to be more careful if you continue the pregnancy.”

“If…” I choke on the words. “How…”

“Your father seems to think you might not wish to continue it,” she says. It’s matter-of-fact as though she’s just passing on information, but out of the corner of her eye, she watches me as she continues her assessment. “It’s up to you, of course.”

What had he told them? I realize with horror that while I’d been unconscious, he’d been making medical decisions on my behalf. “Did he…”

“He’s not allowed to make that kind of a choice for you,” she assures me, “unless you’re ruled permanently incapacitated or the courts have granted him power of attorney.”

“And then?” I ask.

“He makes the decision,” she says, confirming what I already suspect. “Unless you appoint someone else.”

“Can I do that?” I ask quickly.

“If you’d like. Would you like me to send someone in with the paperwork.”

“Yes,” I say, “as soon as possible.”

Dr. Thompson smiles and I realize she’s been feeding me breadcrumbs, trying to get me to follow her. Whatever my father tried to pull while I was unconscious must have alarmed her. I’m not surprised. Even if I could be, I doubt I’d have the energy for it.

When the doctor leaves, Felix comes back inside.

“Did you tell my father I was awake?” I ask.

“No, but I think I should call him.”

I shake my head. “Not yet. There’s something I need to do first.”

I don’t tell him what I’m up to, because I’m not sure he’ll like it any better than my father will. When a hospital administrator comes in with the paperwork, I fill it out quickly and sign as Felix looks on.

“What was that about?” he asks.

I take a deep breath and prepare myself. “I gave you power of attorney. If something happens to me, I want you to make the decisions.”

“Adair,” he breathes. “I don’t think…”

“I do,” I say firmly. “In fact, I know. He won’t respect what I tell him. If he has the chance, he’ll terminate the pregnancy. The doctor admitted as much. I don’t want that.”

“Are you certain? You know how difficult this will be—how difficult he will make it for you.”

“I know,” I say in a small voice. “But I’m not going to get rid of her. I already decided that. It’s why I came here.”

Felix remains silent, studying me with his own quiet wisdom, before he gives me a tight smile. “Her?”

“It’s a girl,” I tell him.