“Now?” I ask, like maybe there’s some version of this where I can finish folding laundry first.
“Yes,now,” she says firmly, still laughing. “You’re having a baby, Brooke.”
“Oh,” I say dumbly. Then louder, “Oh! Right. I’m gonna call Matthew.”
“Keep me in the loop,” she says, and I can practically hear the grin in her voice before the call ends.
I stare at my phone for a second, thumb hovering over Matthew’s name. Then I glance down at my soaked leggings and let out a shaky laugh.
“Okay, baby girl,” I whisper, rubbing the tight curve of my belly. “I guess this is happening.”
The line rings. Once. Twice. Four times. Straight to voicemail.
I hang up and try again.
And again.
“Come on,” I mutter under my breath, my voice trembling now. “Pick up, Matthew. Comeon.”
But he doesn’t. It rings and rings, then goes dead again, and my heart starts to pound faster. I can feel the baby rolling gently inside me, blissfully unaware that her mother is about two seconds from a breakdown.
I swipe over to a different number, one I’ve only called twice in my life and press it before I can talk myself out of it.
“Hi, Mrs. Basen,” she answers on the fifth ring, her voice clipped and efficient as always.
“Hi, Trudy,” I say, too breathless to correct her like I usually do. “Can you get Matthew? He’s not answering his phone and my water broke.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then, confused, she says, “Why would he be in my house?”
“What?” My brow furrows before realization hits. “Oh. Right. Of course.” Of course she’s not in the office. It’s Sunday. She’s not sitting at her desk waiting to fetch my husband when hispregnant wife’s water breaks.
“He went to work,” I explain quickly, trying to keep my voice even as panic starts to rise. “And he’s not answering.”
Another long pause. Then, a note of concern creeping into her voice, she says, “Okay. I’ll try to track him down for you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my throat suddenly tight.
I hang up and stare at the phone, willing it to light up with his name.
“Come on, Matthew,” I murmur, pressing a hand to my belly as another slow ripple of movement rolls beneath my palm. “Come on, baby. Don’t make us do this without you.”
Matthew
“So, there’s basically nothing I can do,” I say flatly, the words tasting like defeat as soon as they leave my mouth.
Lenny exhales slowly and nods, glancing over his shoulder like he’s afraid someone might overhear. “Look… I shouldn’t even be here. But if you sue, they’re going to do everything they can to bury you. I know most companies settle before it gets that far, but Marx Corp doesn’t. There’s some mandate from decades ago that saysevery single claim, legal, civil, whatever has to be investigated. They use it as a weapon now. They’ll drown you in paperwork, delays, hearings. You’ll be fighting them for years.”
I drag a hand over my face, frustration buzzing under my skin. “And since I also work for Marx United…”
“Yeah,” he finishes grimly. “They’ll come for you, too.”
I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as if the right move might be written up there somewhere. “If it were you,” I say finally, lowering my voice, “if you were your boss, you know the person handling the case… what would you do?”
“From the company’s point of view?”
I nod.
He hesitates for a second, then says, “I’d file for an extension right away. Buy time. Then I’d start pulling every complaint,every warning, every note from every flight Brooke’s ever worked. Hell, I’d include passenger complaints even if they weren’t about her. Anything to build a case that she and by extension, you, are unreliable. And if Ireallywanted to be ruthless…” He lets out a humourless laugh. “I’d manufacture something if I couldn’t find it.”
