Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (42 page)

“I love you, too,” he says with a wink.

I
t’s late Thursday afternoon when my phone rings. The number lighting up my screen informs me that it’s the doctor’s office calling. I know they must have the results from my last check-up, and I’m too anxious to hear confirmation of what I already know to wait another moment.

“Excuse me,” I say, interrupting Brittany. Both she and Logan fall silent, watching me as I stand from my seat at the conference room table. “I have to take this call. I’ll be back in a moment.” I know our meeting was just about over, but I don’t care. I answer the phone. Two minutes later, I re-enter the room, pleased that I can now report to Teddy that my dick is more than ready for her pussy.

“Is everything okay?” asks Logan.

“Fine,” I mutter, a slight scowl pulling at my brow. I’m not really sure why she’d assume my taking a call could be any cause for alarm; and I won’t bother questioning why she thinks half of the things I do are any of her business at all. We’re
friends
, which apparently means she feels entitled to speak on my personal matters.

“I’ve just never seen you so enthusiastic about a call before,” she continues. “Wait—” She pauses, squinting at me before she asks, “Was that Teddy?”

“Who’s Teddy?” asks Brittany.

“His
girlfriend
,” Logan replies with a grin.

“You have a girlfriend?!”

I close my eyes, stifling a groan as I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can we finish discussing what’s on our agenda?”

“Oh, my god!” Logan guffaws. “You didn’t deny it!”

“What?” I ask, my scowl deepening as I look over at her.

“You didn’t deny it—when I called her your girlfriend.”

I lift my shoulders in an exasperated shrug, staring at her in annoyance. “Your point?”

She sighs, a slight pout tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Can you just be normal for two seconds? Two seconds, Judah! Just be a normal guy falling for a pretty girl and admit it.”

I don’t respond right away, my eyes sliding from Logan to Brittany—who appears completely shocked—and then back to Logan. I have no intention of having any sort of
heart-to-heart
with either of these women about my love life, but I know Logan. If I don’t throw her a damn bone, she’ll never leave it alone.

“My girlfriend is not up for discussion,” I reply simply, raising an eyebrow at her. “Have I made myself clear?”

She chuckles and nods at me. “Crystal.”

“Now, Brittany, what were you saying before?”

She clears her throat and rolls back her shoulders before she looks at her notes and continues speaking. I don’t hear a word she says—my mind already wandering to thoughts of Teddy, my imagination running rampant with all the ways in which I plan to take her, all the ways in which I plan to unleash her
wild
—my shy girl.

I’m away from my phone when the doctor’s office calls Friday morning. When I manage to get a minute to check my messages, I’m informed that the results from my bloodwork have come back and Dr. Murphy would like me to come back in to discuss a few things. I call back right away, anxious to see him. I’ve done as he’s said, exploring all of my birth control options, and I’ve made a decision about which one I’d like to try. The sooner I can get started, the better.

Turns out, he has an opening late in the afternoon. I agree to come in at four, and then I’m swept up in the business of work again. At three thirty, as I prepare to leave for my appointment, I discover that I missed a call from Judah. I frown, disappointed to find that he neglected to leave a message. I haven’t heard his voice all day. Nevertheless, I decide to wait and call him after I see the doctor. I’m sure I’ll see him tonight, and I can finally tell him about my visits to Dr. Murphy.

When I arrive at the office, I’m taken to an exam room almost immediately, where I wait a good fifteen minutes before Dr. Murphy comes in. If I had to use one word to describe him, it would be
jovial
. He’s a tall man, carrying a bit of extra weight around his middle, and he’s
always
smiling. Only, today, as he enters the room and sits on his stool, he doesn’t seem his cheerful self. All at once, I start to worry. For the first time since I listened to my voicemail this morning, I begin to wonder if it’s
normal
to be called back in for the results of a blood screening.

“Teddy, how are you feeling?”

“I’m—I’m fine, I think,” I mutter nervously, wringing my hands in my lap.

He sighs, grabbing his knee and leaning against his hand. “Teddy, I’m afraid I’ve got some difficult news, kiddo.”

“Oh?” My stomach drops and my heart rate picks up speed as my mind races, trying to figure out what he could possibly mean.

“Your test results came back with a positive result for chlamydia. Now—I don’t want you to panic. Chlamydia is a very commonly seen STI and it is treatable with a round of antibiotics…”

He continues to speak, but the sound of his voice seems to be traveling farther and farther away. Now, all I hear is the word
chlamydia
—over and over and over, it plays on repeat in my head. I
hear
it, and yet I don’t know what to
do
with it.

“Teddy? Teddy…” I hear my name, as if someone is shouting at me from the other end of a tunnel. Then, when Dr. Murphy covers my hands with his, I’m pulled from my daze. “Teddy, are you with me?”

“I—” I start to speak, but a knot clogs my throat. I try my best to swallow it before I speak again. “I have an STI?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Listen, Teddy—I need to know if you were completely truthful about your sexual history. It says in your file that you haven’t had intercourse in over four years.”

“That’s true,” I whisper, my eyes welling up with tears.

“That leads to further cause for concern, I’m afraid. Untreated, chlamydia can also lead to PID.”

“What?” I ask, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “What—what is a PID?”

“Pelvic Inflammatory Disease.”

“I have that? I have that, too?” A single tear rushes down my cheek, but I don’t move to swipe it away.

“Your bloodwork suggests that, yes, you are a carrier of PID. Though, given the length of time that you have been infected, I’d like to run more tests so that we might know the extent of the damage already caused.”

“Wait,” I plead, holding up my hands. “Is it curable? Is what I have going to go away?”

“Yes. You can be treated for both chlamydia and PID; but, Teddy, PID targets your reproductive organs. It is quite possible that a great deal of damage has already been done, damage that cannot be reversed.”

“What are you saying, Dr. Murphy?” I blurt out, my mind confused and panicked.

“While you can be treated, while it is entirely possible for you to have a healthy and safe sex life, it may be extremely difficult, if not impossible, for you to reproduce, depending on the state of your reproductive organs.”

I press my hands against the center of my chest, the sudden ache I feel
overwhelming
. I
cannot
manage a deep breath, and the sob that clogs my throat
hurts
. “What are you saying? What are you
saying?
” I cry, feeling on the verge of hysterics. “I can’t have babies?” I barely manage to get the words out, the sound of this new reality passing my lips utterly unbelievable. This is not at all what I came to hear. To say that I wasn’t prepared for such news is the understatement of the century.

“I’m sorry, Teddy. I wish I…”

Again, his voice fades into nothing. I try and remember how I got here—how I got to this moment, how I got to this office, how I got into this situation. Then I see him. I
feel
him.
Justin
. Justin did this to me!

I clutch at my shirt, needing something to keep me in the present—something, anything, to keep me grounded—to keep me from falling into my worse nightmare. But when I feel Dr. Murphy’s hand on my knee, I realize that there is no
waking up
from this.

“I need to get out of here,” I say, standing from the exam chair as I sling my purse over my shoulder. “I’m sorry—this is all—this is all too much!”

“I understand. Here,” he says, holding out a slip of paper for me to take. “Get this prescription filled and begin treatment right away. I’ll want to see you early next week. We need to deal with this as soon as possible, okay?”

“Yeah,” I mutter, shoving the script in my purse. “I’m sorry—I have to go.”

It’s all I can do not to run to my car. I tell myself over and over not to lose my shit as I cross the parking lot. As soon as I’m sitting in the driver’s seat, my tears start to fall faster. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to
think
—and the longer I sit, the more
disgusting
I feel. I rake my fingers through my hair, tugging on the strands to try and remind myself that I’m okay—that I’m
okay
. Only—I’m not okay! I’m not okay at all.

I don’t even think about heading back to work. I start my car, and I head for home. It takes me twenty minutes, and by the time I get there, I feel as though
chlamydia
is not a bacterium that’s living inside of me—rather, it is as if it covers every inch of my skin. I race toward my apartment, stripping off my clothing as soon as I step inside, wasting no time before I start the shower. I turn the water as hot is it will go, and then I climb in.

It burns, but I don’t care. I scrub myself until I feel raw—and yet I still feel him on me. I can’t get him off—and my heart hurts, and my body aches, and I can’t stop the tears from falling down my face. All I want to do is
scream!

So I do.

I scream.

I yell.

I
curse
his name.

I beat my fists against the shower wall.

And then, I sink to the bottom of the tub, curling my legs against my chest as I sob. I don’t move until the water has run cold and I’m shivering. When I finally get out, I dry off, wrapping my hair in a towel before I throw on a pair of panties, my bright yellow CSU sweatpants, and an old t-shirt. Then, as I make my way to the couch, I hear my phone ringing. For a second, I think of ignoring it. I don’t, remembering that I was expected back at the gallery. Sure enough, when I find my device, I see that Geoffrey is trying to reach me.

I swipe my finger across the screen and put the phone to my ear, but I can’t make any words come out. All I can do is cry.

“Freckles? Baby girl, what’s going on?”

“Please come over,” I whisper. I don’t think about the request before I make it. Hearing his voice triggers my need, and I know that I can’t face this without him.

“Yeah. Give me a half hour. See you soon.”

He disconnects without another word, and the tiniest bit of relief grazes over my grief. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I call Harper. I shouldn’t be surprised when she doesn’t answer, but it makes me cry harder.

Then Judah calls, my phone still in my hands, and I officially lose my shit.

My knees buckle and I drop to the floor, realization knocking the wind out of me. Up until this very moment, it’s all been about me. My body. My infection. My disease—but the only reason I’m even now
aware
of my condition is because I was ready to share my body with someone else! Even worse, I could have already infected him.