“Sophie, why didn’t you wake me up?” she asks in a groggy voice.
I pull into a spot near the emergency room entrance. “You weren’t out that long,” I answer.
Charlie stretches in the backseat and yawns loud enough to wake Wes. It’s still dark out, but there’s a glow coming from the dash that lights up the interior.
“Sorry,” Olivia mumbles. “Hate you were up all by yourself.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. Glad everyone got some sleep.”
Olivia twists around from the front seat. She points out of her window and says, “Guys, looks like there’s a Waffle House down the street. Want to get something to eat while we wait on Sophie?”
They nod, still disoriented. I get out of the car and Olivia comes around to slip into the driver’s seat.
“I’ll be right here in one hour,” I say through Olivia’s open door.
She’s busy readjusting the driver’s seat. “Call us if you need us to get you earlier,” she says.
Wes rolls down his window. “Are you good to go in on your own?”
“Yeah. Get me some food, please?”
“Of course. What do you want?”
“Anything. I don’t care. And some coffee.”
Olivia hands me the bag of wrapped gifts we bought earlier. “Don’t forget these.”
“Thanks,” I say, then walk toward the entrance. I stop when I remember to tell Wes to get some creamer for my coffee, and I pull out my phone. They’ve just driven away when I tap on his name.
I can hear the air horn from here, even with their windows up. Olivia hits the brakes so hard the tires screech on the pavement.
Oh God. I guess he forgot to change my ringtone.
“I forgot to change your ringtone,” he says when he answers.
I can’t stop laughing. “Creamer…too…please,” I manage to get out.
“No problem. Anything else?”
“That’s it.” I hang up.
Charlie rolls down the window and sticks his head out. “We’re up now! Thanks!”
“Sorry!” I yell across the parking lot as they drive away.
It’s just after midnight, and there are only a few people in the waiting room. It’s really depressing thinking about spending Christmas in the hospital. The woman sitting at the check-in desk looks like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world than right here.
“What’s your emergency?” she asks in a bored voice.
“I’m just trying to see my sister. She had a baby today. What’s the best way to get to the fourth floor?”
She points me in the direction of the elevator, then gives a complicated list of turns. When I get off of the elevator, there are two signs. One points in the direction of Margot’s room and the other points in the direction of the NICU. I don’t hesitate.
Two turns later, I’m standing in front of a giant plate-glass window, staring at several plastic tubs just like the one Anna was in for the picture.
A nurse notices me. She walks to the window and says, “Who are you looking for?” Her voice is muffled through the glass.
“Anna Sophia Graff!”
