Flynn holds my hand and whispers to me about the fun we’re going to have in Vegas, how we’ll be married by this time tomorrow, how much he loves me.
I’m sore from yesterday’s lovemaking, so I flinch when the speculum enters me, but she moves quickly and efficiently to take the samples. It’s over before I can give in to the hysteria that’s hovering just below the surface.
“How’re you doing, Natalie?”
“Okay,” I manage to say, though my jaw is locked.
“Now just two fingers to examine your uterus and ovaries.” Like before, she is quick but thorough. “Everything looks good, Natalie. You can sit up now.”
I’m still shaking, but the relief is profound. I did it. I got through it. She goes over my options for birth control, and after Flynn and I discuss it, we agree on a three-month injection, which will be fully effective in a week. Her nurse enters the room and gives me the shot.
The doctor surprises me when she hands me a written prescription. “Take this the next time you need to see a doctor. It’ll help to settle your nerves.”
“Thank you so much for your patience.”
“You’re very welcome. I hope you know it’s very common for sexual assault survivors to have doctor phobias after withstanding the assault and the rape exam. It’s not just you, honey.” She hands me her business card. “Please call if there’s anything I can do for you. My cell number is on the back. Call any time.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Yes, thank you,” Flynn says. “We appreciate your sensitivity.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you both.” She starts to leave the room but turns back. “What happened to you this week, Natalie… That kind of thing can be a trigger that reopens old wounds. Take good care of yourself, and please call if I can be of any assistance.”
“I will. Thank you again.”
“Take all the time you need in here,” she says before she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
My hands are shaking so badly, I have to rely on Flynn to help me into my clothes. He works with silent determination to get me dressed. The dress comes over my head, and he adjusts it until it’s where it’s supposed to be. With a hand on either side of me on the exam table, he drops his head onto my shoulder as if he needs a moment to collect himself.
I run my fingers through his hair.
“I’m so sorry, Nat. I never should’ve let you go through this.”
“I would’ve had to do it eventually.”
“But you didn’t have to do it today.”
“I’m glad I did. I got the first time over with, and now we’ll soon be protected, too.”
He withdraws a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolds it and hands it to me.
“What’s this?”
“Proof that I’m clean. My doctor sent it over this morning. I had the testing done in New York.”
“A fresh, clean start for our married life.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“You said you did this in New York, but you only asked me to marry you yesterday.”
“I knew by the third time I saw you that there was no going back. You’re it for me.” He bends his knees so he can look directly into my eyes. “Are you okay? I would totally understand if you wanted to postpone our plans for today because you don’t feel up to it.”
“I’m okay now that it’s over, and you’re not getting out of marrying me today.”
He breathes a sigh of relief as he hugs me. “Thank God.”
Watching Natalie endure that exam was about the most torturous thing I’ve ever been through in my life. I can’t begin to know what it must’ve been like for her. We’re on our way to the Quantum offices for a meeting with the group that will soon make up the board of directors for my hunger foundation.
After Natalie’s emotional reaction to the doctor’s appointment, I thought about postponing the meeting, but it was too late to cancel with so many busy people already en route.
She’s quiet on the drive to the office, and I don’t push her to talk. I know she’s dealing with yet another reopened wound, which makes me want to start punching things again.
Bringing her to the office—again—leaves me unsettled in light of the secrets we’re hiding in the basement of the Quantum building. Like in New York, our secret BDSM club is housed there, not that Natalie will ever know about that. It’s not a part of my life that I can share with her, so I’ll put it in the past where it belongs.
After witnessing the trauma the medical exam caused her, I’m further convinced that my now-former lifestyle will never play a part in our relationship, so why would I ever tell her about it? She won’t understand it unless she experiences it, and after what she’s been through, there’s no way I’m bringing dominance or submission into our bed. I’ll find a way to live without it, because living without her isn’t an option.