She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife (Natasha and Chase) novel Chapter 71

Not evasive, just careful.

he nurse takes Lily for the draw.

I go with her because Lily will not tolerate strangers without one of us present, and because standing still in the waiting roots is not something I’m capable of right now.

Lily screams at the needle with a fury entirely disproportionate to her size and my heart threatens to break right there on the spot.

I’m supposed to shield her from all harm, and here I am, just standing by and watching as they stab her.

“I know,” I tell her, rubbing soothing little circles on her back when it’s done.

“You’re absolutely right. You should be able to count on me. I suck.”

She cries harder, then slower, then stops, hiccuping against my collarbone.

“Good girl,” I whisper. “Brave girl. I love you so much, my little princess.”

The waiting is the worst part.

Chase and I sit in the consultation room while Dr. Patel steps out, and the quiet is nothing at all like last night’s quiet.

The air is sharp with things we’re trying to hold at bay.

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, turning his phone over in his hands without looking at it.

“She’ll be fine,” he says. I can’t tell if he’s saying it to me or to himself.

“She will,” I agree, with more certainty than I feel.

Dr. Patel comes back twenty minutes later with a look on his face that’s still calm but has shifted into something more considered.

“Most of the panel is straightforward,” he says, sitting down.

“Lily’s white cell count is elevated, consistent with a viral infection. We’ll treat that and she should respond well.”

“But?” Chase says.

“The blood typing flagged something.”

Dr. Patel chooses his words carefully.

“Lily has a genetic marker. Quite rare. Less than two percent of the population carry it. In itself it’s not a health concern, but for the purposes of completeness, and because it may be relevant if she ever needs any kind of compatibility match down the line, I’d like to type both parents.”

I look at him in confusion.

“What kind of marker?”

He already knows about my medical issues, so it can’t be that.

He shows me the result on the printed sheet, but I don’t know what it means.

“It’s inherited,” he says.

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“She’ll have it from one of you. A simple blood draw from both parents today would tell us which side it comes from and give us a complete picture for her records. It will probably never be an issue, but it’s always best to have al the information.”

Chase agrees immediately. So do I.

It’s routine. That’s what Dr. Patel says, and nothing in his expression tells me that he’s being anything less than . truthful.

But he glances at the sheet once more before he puts it down, and something in that glance stays with me.

I give my blood in the small room off the corridor and sit for a moment afterwards while the nurse labels the vials.

Lily is tucked against my chest, finally quiet, drowsy with exhaustion after all the drama and the beginnings of the medication working through her small system.

I press my lips to her forehead.

Still warm. But better.

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