For a moment, I think of saying no, but to my utter surprise, the words that emerge from my lips are completely different. “Do you want to meet your granddaughter?”
My mother’s face crumples, her trembling hands finding her mouth. “Yes, more than anything!”
“Then, let’s go!”
With my mother in the passenger seat beside me, I put the truck into gear. I’m just about to gun it out of the parking lot when Rachel rushes over with a bag waving in the air above her.
She hands it through the open window, grinning from ear to ear. “So, you’re having a girl!”
I give her a quick nod before peeling out of the lot, my tires spitting gravel, and my head spinning with the same prayer.
Please, please let me make it in time.
thirty-seven
patton
It Helps That You Look Sexy In Scrubs
I’m not sure how many traffic laws I break. All I know is that my foot never left the accelerator for those fifteen minutes until I screeched to a halt at the hospital’s emergency entrance.
Flashes go off as soon as I jump out, the sudden bursts of light blinding me. How the hell did the paparazzi find out I was going to be here? I shove past them, my hand protectively clasping my mother’s elbow, urging her to keep her head down.
“Patton, we saw Nisha rush inside. Is she okay? Is it true she’s in labor?”
“Who is the woman with you?”
“Smile for us, Patton! You must be so excited to become a dad!”
My breaths ricochet inside me as I rush through the hospital’s automatic doors, my mother’s hurried steps resounding behind me. I’m sure she’s going to be all over the tabloids tomorrow because, if there’s anything I’ve learned about the paparazzi, it’s that they’re better than intelligence agencies at digging up stories. It is what it is, though. They’ll run with it for a week, then move on to something else.
Despite my annoyance with the photographers outside, I’m thankful the nurse at the front desk recognizes me immediately, waving us through in a rush without pressing us for paperwork.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I sprint behind her, every step feeling like I’m competing against time.
“She’s being taken to the operating room for an emergency C-section,” the nurse calls over her shoulder.
“What?” My feet nearly come to a jarring stop. “What do you—why? What happened?”
The questions tumble out of my mouth, every thought in my brain battling to be heard first.An emergency C-section?! Did I hear her right?
She gives me a look that’s both panicky and sympathetic, pushing through a set of double-doors that swing with a soft whoosh. “Her contractions are causing the baby’s heart rate to drop, and it’s not recovering quickly between episodes. You can ask Dr. Gilbert more about it.” She turns into a small prep room, plucking scrubs and shoe covers out of a shelf. “But right now, you need to get into these if you want to be in the OR with her.”
I nod frantically, and within seconds, I’m shoving my arms into a sterile gown. My hands shake as I pull the surgical mask over my face.
The nurse gestures to a large waiting area nearby, looking at my mother. “Ma’am, you’ll need to wait in there.”
I squeeze my mother’s frail shoulder. “I’ll update you soon.”
She wrings her hands, the motion betraying her anxiety, before giving me a tremulous smile. “Please tell Nisha I’m thinking about her. And that I can’t wait to meet my granddaughter.”
With a nod, I follow the nurse through another set of double-doors, my stomach doing acrobatics fit for the Olympics.
And that’s when I see the surgical team wheeling Nisha on a gurney, halfway down the hall.
“Nisha!” My voice echoes inside the corridor.
Her head angles toward me, and I take in her pale, sweat-dampened face, lined with pain and fear. Her eyes widen briefly at the sight of me, and I swear her entire body relaxes just a fraction. “You’re . . . you’re here.”
