She asked if we had questions, and when neither of us spoke up, she left. The nurse adjusted my gown and draped a warm blanket over my legs.
Kick hadn’t moved. He was so close that his forehead almost touched mine. “Cervix closed is good?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea, to be honest.”
“Well, the doctor said it’s good. I guess she’d know.” He exhaled. “That’s, um—” He stopped and swallowed hard. “I’m right here.”
I didn’t tell him to leave.
The doctor returneda few minutes later and said they might keep me overnight as a precaution. “We’ll get you in a more comfortable room, then someone will be in to do an ultrasound. After that, we’ll determine if you can go home,” she said on her way out.
She wasn’t gone five minutes when another woman came in. Unlike the others, she was wearing regular clothes. “I’m with admissions,” she began. “I have some questions.”
My eyes met Kick’s.
“I can help,” he offered.
“First, I need identification and an insurance card if you have it.”
“I didn’t bring?—”
“I did,” he said, reaching for a bag that sat on the chair behind him. He took out my purse, and I raised my hand to take it, then shook my head. I didn’t even have the strength to grab it.
“Can you get it?”
“Of course.”
Once I saw he had found my wallet, I let my eyes drift closed.
I hadn’t set foot in a church since my mother’s funeral, but lying here, I’d pray to anyone who might be listening.
Please. I know I’ve made a mess of everything. I know I don’t deserve anything good. But please don’t take this baby from me. He or she is all I have.
I thought about Christmas afternoon and the test I’d taken in the bathroom of my childhood home while my father sat in his study after threatening to cut me off if I brought another scandal to our family. Two pink lines had confirmed it was already too late for me to promise I wouldn’t.
I thought about the days since. The exhaustion I’d blamed on stress. The nausea I’d hidden by eating saltines before getting out of bed. The way I’d pressed my hand to my stomach in quiet moments, trying to believe something was actually growing there.
I thought about how I’d imagined telling Kick. Someday. When I’d figured out how to be someoneworth loving. When I’d proven I could stand on my own. When I had something to offer besides complications and baggage.
Not like this.
Never like this.
I opened my eyes and realized I must’ve drifted off when I heard someone say, “We’re going to get you moved to a more comfortable room now.”
When I looked up at Kick, his eyes were tight. He still held my hand as they wheeled me to an elevator, then all the way to the room.
Finally, when I was settled and we were alone, I asked what was wrong.
“Nothing, other than I’m worried about you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
He moved a chair closer to the bed so he could hold both of my hands. “I understand, and I’m not just saying that.”
Tears filled my eyes. “I know there’s something. If you don’t want to be here?—”
“Shh.” He put a finger on my lips, then wiped my tears with the pad of his thumb. “Yes, I have something on my mind, but I am not upset with you. Not in any way.”
