Claire nodded. “I know what you’re thinking, but I want him here. Anyway, he has a right to be here.”
Trevor leaned over Sophie, lightly massaging her shoulders as he pinned Claire with a serious gaze. “Can I get you anything?”
“No.” She sent him a wan smile. “Thank you.”
Marcus shoved his hands into his pockets, looking frustrated. “Where the hell is your doctor? Do you want me to go ask them to page him again?”
“Actually, my doctor is a woman, and she’ll be here any minute, I’m sure,” Claire lied, trying to make him feel better. From the looks of him, he was worse off than she was. He really was such a dear man. But he wasn’t the man she wanted holding her, easing her fears. That man was Logan Monroe, for better or for worse.
And the way things were going, it seemed to be for worse.
Logan raced to the hospital in a blur, his head pounding, his stomach knotted with a cocktail of panic and worry. He didn’t recall stopping at traffic lights or stop signs, didn’t recall so much as glancing at his speedometer. He jogged the whole way to OB Triage, out of his mind with a gut-gripping fear. All he knew was that he had to see Claire, be by her side. Hundreds of questions slammed into him with the force of a big rig.
What if Claire lost the baby? What happened when a baby was born two months too early? What if he lost Claire? God, he could not contemplate the consequences of any of it.
He caught sight of Claire’s sister Sophie in animated conversation with two tall, dark-haired men. Logan recognized one of them as Sophie’s husband Trevor, but the other was anyone’s guess. Maybe a friend of the husband’s? But what on earth would he be doing here?
And where the hell was Claire?
Trying to cast the unease from his thoughts, Logan strode across the room, approaching the threesome. “Sophie, where’s Claire?” he asked without preamble, not really giving a damn about much else at this point, certainly not manners.
Claire’s sister turned, looking startled by his abrupt appearance. “She’s in an examination room with her doctor,” Sophie reported. “The baby’s heart rate has dropped and they’re afraid she’s going into preterm labor. We’re all waiting out here for word.”
Logan nodded, not about to let that stop him. “Which room is it? I’ll just go join her.”
“Don’t you think you should stay out here and let the doctor do her work?” The other man spoke up, raising Logan’s hackles immediately.
Logan shot him a glare. “Who the hell are you?”
His opponent stiffened. “Marcus. I’m a friend of Claire’s.”
A friend of Claire’s? Christ, Logan really didn’t like the sound of that. Or the way the bastard was trying to keep him away from Claire.
“Really?” He arched a brow. “I’m the father of Claire’s child. In other words, you lose.”
The bastard stepped forward, fists clenched. “I wasn’t aware that this was a game. Claire and the baby could be in danger, you know.”
The reminder was like a knife to his guts. “I know. That’s exactly why I’m here, so just stay the hell out of my way.”
Trevor cleared his throat, putting a restraining hand on the interloper’s shoulder. He leveled an even stare at Logan. “I think we should all just calm down.”
He tried to keep a lid on his growing anger. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really need to get to Claire.”
Sophie spoke up, her blue eyes almost pitying. “I know which room she’s in. I’ll show you.”
Finally, a voice of reason.
“Thank you.” With a final, parting glare at the bastard, Logan followed Claire’s sister.
Claire was in one of the outer checkup rooms. The door was slightly ajar, so Logan slipped inside. The doctor was nowhere to be seen at the moment. Claire sat on a bed hooked to a bunch of monitors and an IV. She wore a standard blue-and-white hospital gown and her face was ashen with worry, but he’d never seen a more welcome sight.
“Logan.” Was it just his imagination, or did her eyes light up when she saw him?
Uncertainty flickered as he thought again of the jerk wringing his hands out in the waiting room. She’d already moved on, that much was clear. If her eyes lit up, it was with relief that the father of her child was here to help bear the load.
“Claire.” He crossed the room in a matter of nanoseconds, unable to keep himself from reaching out and taking one of her hands in his. It felt small, delicate, and ice cold. His pulse beat harder, pumping with fear. “What’s going on? Are you and the baby okay?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she murmured, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. Her gaze flicked over his shoulder. “They’ve given my something to try to stop the labor, but it hasn’t seemed to work yet. Sophie, I think the doctor wants to keep me overnight. Could you run home and pack an overnight bag for me? And tell Trevor and Marcus to go home and try not to worry.”
