I scoot closer and put a hand on her stomach. “I can’t help it. You’re so damn beautiful.” I kiss her cheek. “You’re my whole world.”
A smile lights up her face, making her even more gorgeous than she was a moment ago. But as quickly as it comes, it disappears.
Her entire body stiffens. “Something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“With the baby.” She grips her belly, shouting in pain. “Trevor, I’m scared.”
Dread crawls down my spine as I bolt upright. Terror follows when the white sheet surrounding her turns crimson.
“Trevor, no. Make it stop. Please, make it stop. I want this baby.” Her bloody hands grip my arm. “We need this baby.”
Iwake with a start, sweat soaking my T-shirt. Hands shaking. Head pounding from the blood rushing through my ears.
Holy shit.
I check the time. It’s two in the morning, but suddenly, I need to know if my dream was merely a dream… or was it a memory?
Not bothering to clean up—I’ll deal with that later—I change clothes, grab my phone and laptop, and am in the car in a matter of minutes.
The entire drive back to Calloway Creek, I try to analyze the dream. One: I delivered a baby last night, which, in itself, was a surreal experience. Two: I realized what a dick I’ve been. Three—and this one is the real kicker: If Ava were to lose this baby, I think I might be sad. Devastated even. Just like in the dream.
I’m just not sure how it’s even possible that, over the course of one night, it’s like a light switch flipped on. A thought shoots through me like a bolt of lightning.Is my memory returning?
Is it possible she had a past miscarriage? Nobody has told me anything about that—no mention of a prior pregnancy, not even a hint of one ending. I know we tried for years to get pregnant. Could it be it happened, but she didn’t want to relive the experience by telling me?
I step harder on the gas pedal when it occurs to me that maybe my dream wasn’t a dream at all. Not even a memory. Maybe it was some sort of premonition. Maybe I’m being punished for the way I’ve handled this whole situation. Is it possible my actions put so much stress on Ava that it’s causing her to lose the baby?
After I’ve about driven myself crazy with all the possible scenarios, I’m pulling up behind the coffee shop just after three o’clock. It’s still pitch black when I use my key to go in through the back. I’m quiet as I step through the apartment door, stopping before I get too far in, and listen to the silence. I toe off my shoes and pad stealthily down the hallway, stopping once again in the open bedroom doorway. There’s a sense of relief when I hear the covers rustling. She’s here. And she’s not in distress.
I approach the bed, not wanting to scare her, but needing answers. Sitting down on the edge and putting a gentle hand on her, I whisper, “Ava.”
She stirs and rolls over. “Trevor?”
“Yeah.”
She turns on the lamp, rubs her tired eyes, and stares at me curiously. “Why are you here?”
“Are you okay? The baby?”
“Yes. Everything’s fine. Can you answer the question?”
“I had a dream. Or a memory? I’m not sure which.”
She sits up and pulls the sheets protectively around her. I thought she might be excited about me having a memory, but it’s quite the opposite. She looks irritated that I’m here.
“Trevor, you’re giving me whiplash. Dead, alive, amnesia, need space, move in, disappear, crawl into bed with me. I just can’t?—”
“I delivered a baby last night.”
Her head cocks to the side. “Really? How? Where?”
I go over all the details as she looks at me in surprise.
Now she starts to look hopeful. “And you think doing that somehow triggered your memory?”
“I don’t know. Ava, were you ever pregnant before? Did you have a miscarriage?”
