Ripped - Cassia Leo Page 0,4
how Edie called yesterday to say that the tick she removed from Lindsay’s side did not test positive for Lyme disease. But that wasn’t sufficient evidence for Lindsay, who insists the spot where the tick was removed has become more swollen and itchy over the past few days.
Once we’re inside and Lindsay is seated on the examination table in her hospital gown, Dr. Billings pulls the gown off her shoulder and asks her to lift her arm to expose her side. He tilts his head and runs his finger over the pink bump on her skin. Lindsay closes her eyes tightly, as if she’s mentally preparing herself to hear some bad news.
Billings is a slender man with a bald head, which I assume is his way of hiding premature hair loss. I’m pretty certain he’s only in his mid- to late thirties. I try not to let my old insecurities take hold, but old habits die hard, and I always hate being in the room when Billings touches her. It’s not as if I think Lindsay enjoys being touched by another man. I just worry that Billings enjoys touching her.
Billings pulls the gown back over her shoulder and smiles. “Nothing a little hydrocortisone shouldn’t fix. Just apply it three times a day and it should be gone in two to three days. If not, then you can give me a call.”
I sigh with relief as I run my hand through my thick, sandy-brown hair, which I’ve grown out a bit over the past few months. I normally keep my hair cut pretty short, even opting for a buzz cut every now and then, but I missed my appointment with the barber before the Rip Curl Pro at Bells Beach, Australia four months ago. That was the first event during this tour that I came in first place. I decided to forego the haircut again until after Margaret River the following week, but then I got first place again.
It’s not uncommon for me to place first in events, but it’s very uncommon for me to place first at two championship tour events. But two CT—championship tour—events in a row… That’s unheard of. I decided I’d let my hair grow out until the streak was broken. Sure enough, I placed second in Rio de Janeiro, first in Fiji, and third at J-Bay. And now first in Tahiti. For the first time since I was a teenager, I know what my hair looks like when it’s longer than an inch. I’ve got some risqué waves going on up there. I told Lindsay she’s going to have to get a billy club to fight off the girls at the Hurley Pro in Lower Trestles, California. She didn’t find that very amusing.
“Are you sure the tick didn’t lay its eggs inside me?” Lindsay asks Dr. Billings. “They’re not going to hatch into a thousand ticks crawling under my skin, eating me from the inside out?”
Billings chuckles as he types something on the keyboard of the computer that’s attached to a mechanical arm sticking out of the wall. “If that happens, you won’t have to go on any more trips to Tahiti.”
Lindsay’s mouth drops open. “Because I’ll be dead?” she asks in a frightened voice.
I get up from my chair and rub her back. “Calm down, baby. Dr. Billings made a joke. You like jokes, remember?”
She rolls her eyes and pushes my hand away. “At least I won’t have to go to any more rainforests and third-world countries once you retire.”
Billings looks up from his computer. “You’re retiring already, Adam?”
I try not to let my inner frustration manifest on my face as Lindsay looks up at me, awaiting my response. “Not sure yet. Just thinking about it.”
Lindsay cocks an eyebrow at me, but when she opens her mouth it’s Billings she addresses. “Can I have my ultrasound now before I pee my pants?”
They get us into a room with an ultrasound tech quickly, and my heart races at the thought of seeing my little one for the first time. This will be the third ultrasound I’ve attended with Lindsay, but the novelty hasn’t worn off a single bit. That first look at your child is unlike any other feeling, surpassed only by the first time you see them after they’re born. It’s the moment where it becomes real. And, if you want to find out the sex, it becomes a he or a she.
I can’t deny I’m hoping for a he. I love my girls, even—and