“She’s my girlfriend.”
The nurse’s mouth turned down slightly. “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to disclose patient information to anyone other than the patient’s family.”
“Please,” I begged, tears burning at the backs of my eyes. “I’mhers—she’s all I have. She’s pregnant with my baby, and I don’t even know if they’re okay. Please.”
Another nurse chimed in. “Did you check to see if he’s authorized on her list?”
“What’s your name?” she asked, once again tapping at the tablet screen.
“Archer Mack.”
“I’m sorry. Guess I should’ve led with that. You’re on there.”
I don’t know when Darcy added me to her authorized personnel list, but thank fuck she did. “Where is she?”
The nurse’s tone went from guarded to professional. “Darcy’s in emergency surgery. She herself suffered minor injuries—a concussion, a cracked rib, and some bruising.”
She was okay.
I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but I couldn’t because she had said “emergency surgery.” If Darcy was okay, then that only meant one thing.
“The baby?” My voice cracked over the two words.
She looked around as if trying to find someone. “The doctors are really the ones who should—”
I cut her off. “Please. If you know what’s going on, just tell me.”
“The force from the crash made the placenta completely detach from Darcy’s uterine wall. Without it, the baby doesn’t receive oxygen or nutrients. They are doing an emergency C-section.” Her words were clinical, but my knees almost buckled beneath me, as if the words themselves cut the tendons holding me upright.
Emergency C-section.
“But she’s only thirty weeks along.”
“The doctors can tell you more.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “But they got her here really fast. They’re in good hands.”
I nodded absently, staring blankly at her face. “Where can I wait for her?”
***
“Mr. Mack?” A man in navy scrubs with salt-and-pepper hair called from the doorway to the waiting room.
I jumped to my feet. It’d only been forty minutes, but I’d stared down the clock on the wall, watching every second tick into the next. “Archer. Are they okay?”
He smiled a small smile. “I’m Doctor Ambrose. Both Darcy and the baby are doing great.”
The breath that left my lungs sucked the adrenaline out with it, leaving me exhausted and feeling a little bit like I might throw up.
“Darcy’s back in recovery. We had to do the procedure with her under anesthesia because of the condition she came to us in,but you’ll be able to see her shortly. If you’d like to meet your son, I can bring you to him.”
Your son.
It was a boy.
Darcy was right.
I had a son.
My heart pounded in my chest, nervous energy filling my body, and the nausea increasing tenfold as my mind raced. Was this okay? Would Darcy care if I met our son without her?
