My chest tightens as I rest my head against the glass panel. ‘Well, can you point me in the direction of someone who can?Someonemust know what’s going on around here.’
‘Family waiting room is at the end of the corridor. Turn right, then left again. Someone will be out to you as soon as they can. If anyone asks, you’re her brother.’
I take off down the corridor, tossing a ‘thank you’ over my shoulder as an afterthought.
The waiting room is overflowing with people. Men, women, children. All of them wearing expressions of worry or fatigue.
There’s one free seat available and I take it, deliberately avoiding eye contact with anyone. The last thing I need is the ‘are you Ronan Rivers?’ shit right now.
Pulling out my phone, I text Jake, explaining I’m here and waiting for an update
Of all the days.
I’m just grateful it’s not Savannah in surgery.
An hour and a half later, a white-haired man in his sixties enters the room. The disposable doctor’s hat and navy scrubs eliminate the need for an introduction. ‘Mr James,’ he calls, scanning the room.
I leap to my feet and follow him out of the room into the lime green corridor.
‘Your wife is out of surgery.’ His neutral expression gives away absolutely nothing.
I open my mouth, ready to correct him, then close it again.
‘It was touch and go. She lost a lot of blood, but she’s going to be okay.’
‘Oh, thank God.’ I exhale the breath I’d been holding. ‘And the baby?’
His lips crook upwards into a small, weathered smile. ‘Congratulations, you have a son.’
I clutch my chest, as if to silence the hammering of my heart. ‘Can I see them?’
‘Your wife,’ he raises a questioning white eyebrow at me, ‘is in recovery, sleeping off the anaesthetic. I don’t expect her to wake for at least another hour. Your son is in NICU, receiving oxygen. A nurse will be down shortly to take you to him. Given his premature arrival, he could be in there for a few weeks. It could be a long road, but they’re both in great hands.’
‘Thank you so much, doctor.’ I could cry with relief, so I fully expect Jake to.
‘You’re welcome, Mr Rivers.’ Knowing eyes gleam. ‘Pity you didn’t get the third gold. It really would have been something. How’s the shoulder now?’
I should have known better than to pretend to impersonate Jake James.
‘It’s okay. I won’t be winning any medals anytime soon, but thankfully, there are more important things in life.’
‘That there is, son.’ He offers a curt nod before turning on his heels and striding away.
I whip out my phone. Jake answers on the first ring. ‘Any news?’
‘Jess is okay. She’s in recovery, but she’s fine.’
Jake's exhaled breath is thick with relief. ‘And the baby?’
‘Congratulations, Daddy. You have a son.’
‘A son!’ His whoop threatens to burst my eardrum.
‘Where are you?’ I pace the corridor, not wanting to leave until he gets here, but acutely conscious of my other commitments to Savannah today.
‘About forty-five minutes away.’
‘I’m so sorry man, but I need to go. I have somewhere I need to be, but I promise I’ll come back later.’
