The Duty Of The Heir (Book 3): A Surprise Pregnancy Romance (The Heir’s Series 5)

Rich Oaks

Sitting in the quiet room of the fertility clinic, Aisling and I are a bundle of nerves and hope. I can’t shake off this guilt that’s been gnawing at me. I glance over at Aisling, noting the nervous way she smooths her skirt, a telltale sign of her anxious anticipation.

Dr. Jones enters, the sunlight from the hallway highlighting his neat silhouette. ‘Good afternoon,’ he greets, a practiced warmth in his voice.

‘Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Presley,’ he greets us cheerfully.

Aisling’s response is sincere, a smile breaking her tense expression. But I find it harder to match that warmth, the memories of my actions casting a dark cloud over this moment.

‘Good morning, Dr. Jones.’

‘Good morning. Here we are again,’ I say, forcing a professional demeanor as I stand to shake his hand, trying to bury the regret that’s eating at me.

‘Yes, Mr. Presley,’ he agrees, his handshake firm.

Hopefully, this is the last cycle. Next time, we’ll be talking about positive developments.’

The word ‘hopeful’ lingers in my mind, reigniting that small flicker buried deep within. But it’s challenging, especially when I’m acutely aware that every step in this clinic serves as a reminder of my own guilt.

I manage a smile, but it’s a struggle. ‘Looking forward to that.’

Dr. Jones turns to Aisling, his demeanor kind. ‘You look amazing, Aisling.’

Her response is gracious, her smile reaching her eyes, and it just twists my heart. ‘Thank you, Dr. Jones,’ she says, shaking his hand.

‘You’ve been taking great care. It’s commendable.’

And it’s true. She’s been the epitome of strength throughout this journey. Watching her, watching the two of them interact, deepens the cut of my own internal reprimand. I’m sharply reminded of how much she deserves, how much we both do.

Good to see you both. Ready to start?’ he asks.

Aisling and I lock eyes, finding strength in each other. ‘We’re more than ready,’ she says, her voice holding a quiet confidence I admire.

‘Thank you, Dr. Jones,’ she replies, gratitude evident in her voice. ‘We’re ready for whatever comes next.’

Her inclusion of ‘we’ is a testament to our unity, despite the rocky terrain of our emotions. And as we prepare to dive deeper into the realm of possibilities, the future both enticing and intimidating, I grab her hand, and she doesn’t let go. Our fingers intertwining, silently reaffirming our commitment to face the coming challenges as one.

‘Alright, let’s begin the cycle,’ Dr. Jones says, and we all settle into our chairs. Despite the anxiety and the weight of my guilt, there’s a part of me that’s hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, this time things will work out.

Dr. Jones, with his poised demeanor, lays out the details of our new treatment plan. As he outlines the tests and procedures, my mind races, each word amplifying the guilt that’s been eating away at me for the betrayal I’ve committed. Aisling, on the other hand, is all focus and determination.

Dr. Jones turns his attention to me. ‘Duke, you’ll be seeing Dr. Blankson today. He’ll conduct the sperm analysis like before, checking the count, size, and morphology.’

I nod, the heaviness in my chest growing. My past actions, the secrets I’ve kept, seem to be mocking me, making every word from Dr. Jones sting a little more. I should be entirely focused on this journey with Aisling, but the looming cloud of my betrayal makes that nearly impossible.

‘We’re optimistic about this cycle,’ Dr. Jones says, jotting down a note. ‘Should the tests come back favorable, we’ll be moving forward without delay.’

Aisling and I exchange a brief, hopeful glance. ‘Okay,’ she says, her voice carrying a strength that amazes me.

She interjects with a question about the treatment’s timeline. Her unwavering focus on our shared dream is clear. And as she speaks, I marvel at her resilience, even as my own shortcomings continue to eat at me.

The consultation nears its end, and Dr. Jones offers a parting smile, genuine and warm. ‘All the best to both of you,’ he says, gathering his papers.

As we get up from our chairs, getting ready to go, I can’t help but wish that feeling hopeful was easier for me. I’m dealing with a bunch of mixed emotions inside, and it’s not just about the fertility treatments anymore.