Royal Wedding - Meg Cabot Page 0,95

moved up, actually.

Also, my foot isn’t broken.

Well, we don’t know if it’s broken, because Dr. Delgado wouldn’t give me an X-ray. He said he couldn’t give me an X-ray. He seemed very surprised I didn’t know why. He came bustling into the room where the nurse ushered us, having directed Michael onto a chair and me onto the examination table, and took off his glasses and said, “Oh, there you are. I see you finally got my message.”

I said, “No, what message? I called you.”

And then I showed him my foot, holding it in the air as I lay on the examination table (fully clothed, I might add, even though the nurse had told me to undress and gave me a paper gown, which I’d thought was extremely odd. Why would you put on a paper gown when all that was wrong with you was a possible broken foot? Michael had found it odd, too, so obviously, I had not undressed, except for taking off my sock and UGG).

“The message I left for you on your phone days ago,” Dr. Delgado said. “I left a message telling you I’d received the results of the blood and urine tests that I took the last time I examined you.”

“Oh.” I glanced helplessly at Michael, who’d put away his phone and was staring at Dr. Delgado as uncomprehendingly as I was. “Well, I guess I didn’t get your message. I get a lot of messages. Like a thousand a day. I have people who are supposed to sort through them, but a lot of stuff has happened since I last saw you. You might have heard about it on the news—”

“News?” Dr. Delgado looked impatient. “I don’t have time to follow the news. It’s too depressing.”

“I have to agree with you there,” Michael said.

“Well, not all of it,” I said, annoyed. Those two had never met before, and there they were, instantaneously bonding over how the news is so depressing. “Some of the news is good, like that I’m getting married. Dr. Delgado, this is my fiancé, Michael Moscovitz. Remember, I told you about him?”

Dr. Delgado smiled and reached to shake Michael’s hand, saying, “Well, that is good news. Very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Michael said. “Sorry about missing your message. We went away for the weekend.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Dr. Delgado said, still smiling, “just fine. Always good to get out of the city for a bit.” He reached for my medical file and opened it. “Well, I guess it’s better this way.”

“What’s better this way?” I asked.

“I can tell you in person,” he said, putting his glasses back on so he could read the file.

“Tell me what in person?”

But I knew. Or at least I thought I knew: I had a fatal blood disease.

It made complete sense. Of course I would finally get engaged to the love of my life, only to discover I’m dying.

But it was all going to be fine, because my dad had Olivia, so the throne’s succession was secure. It wouldn’t go to any of my alarmingly odd cousins. I could die knowing I’d given my best for my country.

But it wasn’t entirely fair, because there were still so many things I wanted to do, such as dance with Michael under the stars on our wedding night; tour the Greek islands with him on my honeymoon; and possibly have children of my own someday, and teach them to be sane and careful leaders of the country I’d come to love so much.

How could this be happening, especially now, when I was finally so close to getting everything I had ever wanted?

“You’re pregnant, of course,” Dr. Delgado said, still looking down at my chart. “And according to your HCG levels, you are very, very pregnant indeed.”

I nearly fell off the exam table. In fact, if Michael hadn’t reached up and grasped my wrist—he couldn’t grab my hand, because I was clutching the white paper lining the exam table too tightly—I probably would have hit the floor.

“Uh,” I said. “No, that is not possible. There has to have been some kind of mistake.”

“Oh, no,” Dr. Delgado said. “There’s definitely no mistake. Both urine and blood work confirm it. But we can do an ultrasound right now if you like, just to make sure.”

Dr. Delgado’s office is on Eightieth and Park, quite far from any subway, and definitely not on a geological fault.

But I was sure I felt the examination table sway underneath me, anyway, as if