When My Gynecologist Ex-Boyfriend Found Out I Was Pregnant

My period was two months late, and my mom, in a full-blown panic, dragged me to the gynecologist.

When the clinic door swung open, I nearly slid off my chair.

The doctor sitting before me was the ex I’d dumped so spectacularly two months ago.

He stared coldly at his keyboard. “Lie down on the exam table. Pants down to your knees.”

When I remained frozen, he pulled on a pair of gloves, walked over, and hooked his cool fingers into my waistband, yanking them down.

The second the privacy curtain closed, he suddenly ripped off his glasses and leaned over me, his warm lips brushing against my earlobe.

“We never finished last time, did we? So whose is it? Hmm?”

1

Fate has a twisted sense of humor, always arranging for me to run into my ex at my most humiliating moments.

The moment the name “Dr. Sean Boyce” flashed on the screen in the waiting room, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning.

It has to be a different person! I clutched my appointment slip, praying to every god I could think of.

But when I pushed open the door to his office, there he was. The white coat did little to hide his tall, lean frame, and the pair of familiar eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses made my breath catch in my throat.

He didn't even look up from his keyboard, his voice clipped and cool. “Name?”

He spoke as if he’d never seen me before in his life.

“Chloe Reaser, is that right?” he continued, his tone relentlessly professional. “What seems to be the problem?”

Wow. We’d been broken up for all of two months, and he had the "complete stranger" act down perfectly.

He was ruthless.

Then again, the things I’d said to him were ten times more ruthless.

My parting words had been: “Don’t even think about seeing me again after this, unless you’re on your deathbed begging for me. Then, maybe, I’ll consider stopping by.”

I guess my words came true.

Except I was the one lying down…

His appointments were impossible to get. I hadn’t been able to book one myself. It was my mom who’d deployed the power of cash, paying a scalper double the price for a last-minute cancellation.

I’d overheard some girls in the waiting room gushing about how handsome the doctor was, how the pictures online didn’t do him justice. They said you didn’t even need medicine; just getting his number was enough to cure you. His face was just that devastatingly handsome.

At the time, I’d wondered if all doctors with that name were blessed by the genetic lottery. I had to see for myself.

And now I had. Devastatingly handsome, indeed.

Except the devastation was all mine.

2

I, who could normally talk my way out of anything, felt like my tongue had been stolen the moment I stepped into his office.

My mom, however, was completely oblivious to the turbulent undercurrents between Sean and me.

She launched into a dramatic recital of my symptoms. “Doctor, her period is two months late! It’s either a baby or a disease. You have to give our Chloe a thorough check-up!”

The sheer awkwardness was enough to power a small city. I wante...