The Soul Mate (Roommates, # 4)

Mason

“Nine pregnancies,” I told Trent as I leaned against the counter.

“Nine?”

“Yep, nine. And two sets of twins. I’m telling you, if I get one more pregnancy this month, I’ll win the nurse’s baby bingo league. Mrs. Ramirez cried for half an hour when I told her about the twins. She already has a pair at home.”

“That poor woman.” Trent gave a sympathetic wince and shook his head. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You want one?”

The lure of caffeine called to me, but I shook my head. “Nah, I’m so behind on my paperwork. Gonna catch up before lunch.”

We parted ways, and I trailed down the fluorescent-lit hall until I reached the office at the end. “Dr. Bentley” was emblazoned on the door in shiny gold.

The name placard had been there since I was a kid, when I’d played in the waiting room and waited for my father to come out and join my mother and me. Then, when I was older, I’d spent even more time in that same waiting room, insisting that I go along for every little screening and test while my mother battled through ovarian cancer with one of the other doctors in my father’s practice.

And now? As an adult, I’d taken control of the office that had once belonged to my father and replaced his certificates and diplomas with my own-though I’d left the old baseball pennant that hung from the window, a memory of my good old little league days.

On my desk sat the pile of papers I’d been avoiding for a solid week, and as I collapsed into my worn leather chair, I let out a muffled groan. Almost on instinct, I checked my work email and pushed aside the little stab of disappointment when nothing even remotely personal was there.

Not that I’d expected anything at this point anyway. If I hadn’t heard from Bren by now, I wasn’t likely to. In fact, I wasn’t even sure she knew my name. I’d introduced myself once at the beginning, but some people were bad with names. I often was, forgetting them almost the second a stranger told me. Plus I had no way of knowing how tipsy she was that night. Of course, she hadn’t seemed drunk at the time.

My cock pulsed at the memory.

Scrubbing my hands down my face, I tried to forget what it’d been like with her. Not that it did any good. I hadn’t slept a full night since we’d been together when she hadn’t found a way to infiltrate my dreams.

Speaking of dreams, if you want to be able to pay for that fancy-ass apartment and a bed to lay your head in at night, you better get on the ball with this paperwork.

After a quick email to my assistant, asking her to order my lunch in, I flipped over to the first sheet in the stack of papers-Mrs. Ramirez’s intake form from this morning.

Poor woman was right. I could only imagine what it would be like to have one baby, let alone to be saddled with two more when you already had a pair at home. Her husband had stayed strong, of course, but if I’d been that guy? Well, I think we would have made an extended stop at the liquor store after a doctor’s visit like that.

She was a great mom. I’d seen her during her aftercare when she’d had the first set of twins, and she’d been like a superwoman, on top of their every move, rocking one while patting the other. The parents would be all right once they adjusted, but damn, that was going to be a motherfucker of an adjustment. Hoped they didn’t like sleeping at night.

A gentle knock sounded on my door, and I looked up to find a slender brunette woman slipping into the room, a nervous smile on her thin lips. “Dr. Bentley?”

“What’s up, Jean?” She was the newest of the nurses and still referred to all of us by our titles even when we weren’t in front of patients, so I tried to make my smile extra friendly.

“There was a cancellation this morning, and we had someone fill the spot with a new patient. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but I was wondering if maybe-”

I held up my hand. “No problem. When’s the appointment?”

“Um, that’s sort of the thing. She’s here now.”

I made sure not to wince visibly, knowing Jean was already walking on eggshells due to nerves. I didn’t want to make it worse. “Right, okay. Well, draw her blood, take her vitals, and get her into a gown. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

Jean started to leave the room, but I called her back.

“The intake form?” I asked, and she let out a shrill laugh as her cheeks flamed red.

“Right, right. Duh! Here you go.” She dropped the slip of paper on my desk along with a medical history folder, and I glanced at the tidy, pretty script.

Ashley Matthews.

Pretty normal history and on the younger side. I flicked through the pages in her folder, then sent off the last few emails in my inbox before heading back down the hall. Trent was going to owe me for taking on yet another new patient. If he was smart, he would bring back a coffee for me regardless of the fact that I didn’t go with him.

Gently, I knocked on the door, and Jean appeared from around the corner.

“Dr. Bentley is here,” she informed the woman who was lying like she’d recently been hit by a truck. Her hair was slung over the side of the examination table, and her arm was flung dramatically over her face.

This ought to be fun.