The Prince's Secret (Prince Harry Fanfic)

Part 71 - Proof Positive--or Negative?

Harry

Meg's doctor appointment was at 2pm, right in the middle of the day. I would not have been surprised to find out that she scheduled it at the time she thought would be most inconvenient for me.

Knowing that she expected to ride with me to the appointment, I sent a car to pick her up, but I traveled in a separate car. I did not want to spend any more time with her than I absolutely had to, appearances be damned. I was tired of playing her games.

I arrived at the doctor's office before her and had a bit of a look-around and chat with the staff. The chief nurse, who introduced herself as Linda, was a bit puzzled at my requests, but accepted them readily. Now all that was left was the waiting.

I was beginning to hate waiting. Everything I wanted seemed to be out of reach, always next week or over the next hill. I was ready to begin things...ready to begin my life after Meg.

Meg arrived alone. My father and Camilla were working, of course, and unable to provide her any support. She came into the office looking a bit pouty, but her smile brightened when she saw me. She headed over to take my hand, standing on tiptoe to kiss my cheek.

"There you are," she said with a smile. "I thought you would come and pick me up. We have so much to talk about...so much planning to do."

"I had other engagements this morning," I said, trying vainly to shrug her off, but she was having none of it.

Nurse Linda bustled us quickly into an exam room, to spare us the embarrassment of sitting out in the waiting room with the other patients. The nurse checked Meg's blood pressure and other vital signs, talking cheerfully the entire time. "Let me get you a cup, dear, for a urine sample...and then we'll draw just a little bit of blood."

"Blood?" Meg asked.

"Yes, of course. We want to be absolutely sure that everything's going well, don't we?"

Meg's brow furrowed. "Yes. Of course I do."

Meg picked up the little cup and headed for the washroom, Nurse Linda right behind her. "I'll just go in with you, dear."

Meg stopped in the doorway. "Why? I can pee on my own, thank you."

"Well, this is an important little baby you're hoping for, isn't it?" the nurse asked, glancing back at me. "It's standard procedure. Just to make sure we get the right urine sample. Duchess Catherine had to be supervised at each of her appointments as well." When Meg started to protest, Nurse Linda said firmly, "It's the Queen's orders, ma'am, for all royal births. I'm sorry."

"Oh, all right," Meg snapped. She and Nurse Linda went into the washroom together, and I smiled.

Meg returned a bit later, holding a cotton ball to the inside of her elbow. "Did you know they were going to be such sticklers about this?"

I feigned innocence and shrugged. "I'm sure it's just part of the procedure. Granny would want to make sure—especially with an heir to the throne—that they are getting their information right."

"I suppose so."

And then we waited some more. I leaned back in the plastic chair, my head tipped against the wall, and closed my eyes, half-listening to Meg's rambling. She was talking about the wedding again, and how she'd put on a little weight at her last dress fitting, and she hoped the baby bump wouldn't show too much by the end of May. It was normal Meg-chatter, but to me her voice sounded strained, like she was nervous.

At long last the doctor came into the room, a folder in her hands. "Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness," she said, not bothering to curtsy, "and Miss Moran. I'm Dr. Jameson."

Meg stared at her. "Where's Dr. Brennan?"

"Dr. Brennan was called away to the hospital for a delivery. It happens, you know," she said with a little smile. "But I've got your file right here."

"I asked for Dr. Brennan," Meg said, her voice rising.

"He isn't in the office," Dr. Jameson said again. "We're a group practice and we often see each other's patients. Let's get to your results, shall we?"

"Yes," I said leaning forward.

"No!" Meg said. Then, in a panicky voice, she said, "I want to wait for Dr. Brennan."

"That could take hours. He may not be back in the office till tomorrow. I have your results right here. Don't you want to hear them?"

"Yes, Meg," I said, staring her down. "Why shouldn't we hear the results from Dr. Jameson? After all, they will be the same results, won't they? A test is a test."

"But Dr. Brennan—"

"Let's have the results, please, Dr. Jameson," I said. And in the same voice I used to give orders when I was a pilot I said, "We'll have them now, won't we, Meg? We've waited long enough."

Dr. Jameson pulled out a sheet of paper. "I'm afraid to say that the urine test was negative, showing no sign of pregnancy. I won't have the results on the blood test for 20 minutes or so, but I don't expect any change." She looked at Meg.

The look in Meg's eyes told me that everything I had suspected was true. She was trapped, and she knew it.

"But I am pregnant! I know I am! I have all the symptoms! The other test I took in Toronto was positive! Look! Here is the doctor's report—" and she fumbled in her bag, presenting some official-looking papers to Dr. Jameson.

To her credit Dr. Jameson studied them for a few minutes before speaking. "It is possible that you were pregnant when you took the first test. You could have had an early miscarriage, or it might have been a false positive. That often happens when the tests are done in the first week or so after a missed period. But I can say with absolute assurance—you are not pregnant now. I'm sorry."

"But the blood test! It could be positive! We have to wait—"

I stood up. "I'm not waiting any longer, Meg," I said quietly.

Dr. Jameson stood up as well. "I'll leave you alone for a few minutes, and see if I can get the results on the blood test."

She left the room, closing the door behind her, and Meg leaped to her feet.

"Harry, I was pregnant. I was! I swear. Look, the doctor's report says—"

"It doesn't matter," I said. "It's over. We're not having a baby. And we're not getting married."

Now her eyes were angry. "If you think I'm going to let you break our engagement—"

"You don't have a choice about that any more," I said. "Let me tell you what is going to happen. We will meet next week with my father, and a lawyer, and perhaps the Queen. You can decide at that time how you would like the announcement of our breakup to be worded. We can say that we have mutually decided to split, citing irreconcilable differences, and you can walk away with your dignity and a good cover story. Or I can approve the release of a number of very damaging stories about you, all of which happen to be true, citing several sources you have attempted to bribe, including Dr. Brennan. The choice is yours."

I'd never seen anyone actually go pale before, down to their lips, but Meg did. She stepped back, hand to her lips, and shook her head.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Dr. Jameson returned.

"I have the results of the blood test," she said. "You are not pregnant, Meg. I'm sorry. We can schedule a follow-up appointment to see if there was a miscarriage, or anything that might impact your future fertility—"

"Thank you, Dr. Jameson. That won't be necessary," I said, shaking her hand. "You've been very kind. Please send copies of the tests to the email addresses I gave the receptionist."

"Of course, Your Royal Highness," she said.

"Harry, please—" Meg grabbed for my sleeve. I stepped out of her embrace, away from her clutching fingers, and left the clinic.

Once in the car with the door shut, I called Colin. "Get me on the next flight to Vancouver. And cancel all my appointments until next week." And then I texted the two words I had been aching to type for days.

NOT PREGNANT.