She’s made up her mind, and it’s her decision to make. I understand that. I accept that. But, Christ, the risks are so high. Every time she coughs, every time she fucking sneezes, my heart drops to the pit of my stomach with fear. It’s been four weeks. Four weeks and the worry doesn’t fade. It doesn’t vanish, only grows. We’re past the first trimester now. I should be able to relax. I should channel Damon’s confidence, Damon’s joy. But I can’t.
Guilt washes over me as a knock sounds from myoffice door, and Gretchen pokes her head in, clearing her throat. “Dr. Marquis?”
I tilt my weary head up, sighing. “Yes?”
“Miss Jones is here to see you. Apparently, you have a lunch date?”
I check the clock. It’s already 1 p.m. I’ve let the day get away from me again. I stir in the chair, inwardly wincing. I should’ve gone home last night. But I couldn’t. There are too many studies to read. There are too many proposals for treatment plans, care plans. Preventative measure proposals. So many theories. So many hypotheses. I won’t let her be a guinea pig. But the options… They’re limited. Wait and hope. That’s all we can do.
“You can tell her I’ll be right out,” I say, standing up and stretching.
Before Gretchen can respond, Emery appears in the doorway, ducking around my receptionist.
“Thanks, Gretchen,” she says, subtly nodding for her to depart. Gretchen scurries away, and Emery shuts the door behind her as she stands before me, arms crossed, expression sympathetic. She shakes her head, sighing as she gives a slow, pitiful once-over. “When’s the last time you slept, Quin?”
I clear my throat. “I took a nap earlier.”
She narrows her eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Quin. I’m bloated, emotional, and hungry.”
I expel a deep breath, my body visibly shrinking under her scrutiny. “Fine. Maybe a day ago. But I don’t need?—”
She drops her arms, flapping them to her side. “Quinton, I’m okay.” Her tone is fierce, confident in its resolve. She spins around. “See?” I avert my gaze, my gut twisting with hunger and dread. She raises her voice. “Look at me, Quin. Look at me.” And then she’s by my side, hands cupping my cheeks, tender and desperate. “Look at me!” Tears prick at the corner of my eyes as I force myself to meet her determined stare. “I’m fine, Quin. Ifeelfine. My tests are normal. Everything isfine.”
I’ve tried to be strong for her. I’ve tried to keep my fears and emotions locked up, caged behind ironclad bars. I forced down my opinions, my thoughts, and the terror I felt every time I looked at her, every time I held her, knowing that one day, she could slip away from me. Knowing that one day, she could turn to dust in my grasp.
It’s been four weeks, and I’m on the precipice of being released. The sentence was too short. I can’t leave now. I don’t want to leave now. But the bars are rusting. The cage is falling apart, screws and nuts and hinges disintegrating into a puddle of my deepest worries.
And then, when she whispers that she loves me, the cage breaks, and I crumble with it.
“I’m so scared.” Hot, uncontrollable tears roll down my face, my shoulders shaking, my breaths shallow and strained. I hold her, my arms wrapped around her growing body, hoping that my embrace will shield her from chance, from statistics, from harm. “I can’t lose you, Emery. I can’t lose you. I can’t?—”
“You won’t, baby.” Her soft fingers thread throughthe back of my hair as she soothes me with hushed whispers, my forehead resting on the slope of her neck. My tears stain her jacket, soaking through the thick fabric. “I’m right here, Quin. Right here. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you. I promise I won’t leave you.”
“I’m sorry.” The words come out weak, shaken. “I’m so sorry I’ve been?—”
“Don’t.” She pulls away, searching my face as I fight against shame and look up at her. “Don’t you dare apologize for caring about me, Quin. I get it. I understand how you feel. But I…” She swallows, glancing down at her belly. She places a hand over her stomach, a warm, magical smile clipping her lips. “We’re fine. We’re healthy, Quin. We’re…” She tilts her head. “We’re happy.” With the pad of her thumb, she wipes a stream of tears from my cheek. “Be happy with us, Quin.” She pauses, almost pleading. “Please be happy with us. I-I miss you. Damon, believe it not, he misses you too.”
Her words break my heart. I didn’t mean to shut them out. Shut her out. Most days, I’ve been physically present. I’ve slept in our bed. I’ve eaten food at our dining room table. I’ve watched movies. I’ve given her baths. But I was only there physically. She noticed. Of course, she noticed. She’s an expert in patterns. I should’ve known she would solve me.
“I’ll try harder,” I whisper, bringing my lips to her forehead. She melts under my kiss, and I soak in her love. “I promise I’ll try.”
“And I promise to tell you the minute I don’t feel good,” she says. “I promise not to hide any symptoms,okay? Dr. Yang told me what to look for, and I read all the literature you sent me, every single word, Quin, I’ve read it.” She pauses for a brief moment, closing her eyes. “I’m scared too.” I frown. “I know I don’t talk about it, but I am.” She gently places her hands on my arms, dragging down the length of them until her fingers lace with mine. She brings my palm to her stomach, and she smiles. “But I’m also excited. There’s a baby growing in there. Our baby. It might not have my eyes, it might not have your lips or Damon’s hair, but it’s ours. We made it. The three of us. And we’ll raise him together.”
My lips tremble as I snap my gaze at her. “Him?”
She shrugs, smiling. “I think it’s a boy. Don’t ask me why. But I do.” She tilts her head as I stare at her belly, imagining playgrounds and diapers and graduations and first dates. “You’re going to be a dad, Quin. Let’s focus on that.”
I swallow. “He’ll need a crib.”
She smiles. “So, let’s go buy him one.” She casts me a weak scowl. “And then you go home and sleep, okay? No more work today, got it?”
I nod. “Got it.”
She takes my hand and leads me out of the darkness.
“You should go seethe guest room,” Emery suggests as we get home. “I need to check some work emails, but Damon’s been in there the past couple of days.”
I frown. “I thought you were taking a step back from your role.”
