Griffin is at the kitchen island, unloading a large brown paper bag onto the surface. He pauses with a box of saltines in one hand and a bottle of ginger ale in the other. His forehead creases as he gives me a once-over.
“Yeah, I know. I look like shit.”
His lips tip into a small smile. “Never. But you do look very pale.” He pulls out a seat at the island. “Come sit down.”
I take a step toward him, and the dizziness returns. I hold out my hands to steady myself against the counter. Griffin’s there in an instant, pulling me against him with one arm.
“What the hell is going on, Angel?”
“I’m not sure. I just got dizzy all of a sudden.”
He slams the box of saltines onto the counter and lifts me into his arms. His masculine scent hits me full force. I want to burrow into him and take a nap.
Why am I so tired? Ugh. Pregnancy sucks.
Griffin deposits me on the sofa and walks away, coming back with my shoes and his pilfered hoodie. He kneels at my feet. “Lift.”
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you to the hospital.”
“What? Why?”
“You barely make it through the day without getting sick multiple times. Now you’re dizzy. You almost fell, Angel.” He slides a shoe onto one of my feet, then the next. “You aren’t going to argue with me?”
“Too tired. Don’t have it in me.”
He tugs the hoodie over my head and kisses my forehead. “Christ. That might be the worst symptom of all.”
Griffin
We wait in the emergency room for an hour before they call us back. Angie relays all her symptoms, and they admit her a short while later. After settling us in a room, they hook her up to several monitors and an IV. We get to hear the baby’s heartbeat again, reassuring us all is well with the little tater tot—that’s what I’ve taken to calling the baby in my head. I’m not sure why. It just felt right.
I haven’t left Angie’s sight for a moment, taking up residence on an uncomfortable chair beside her hospital bed.
Ever since she stumbled into my arms, my stomach has been tied up in knots. I need to know they’re going to be okay. Nothing short of a goddamn hurricane could drag me away.
Doctor Patel stands at Angie’s bedside with a clipboard in hand. “Based on your symptoms, I believe you have a conditioncalled hyperemesis gravidarum. It’s a fancy term for an extreme form of morning sickness that comes with some significant risks.”
Angie’s grip on my hand tightens, and she trembles.
My pulse picks up as every horrible possibility runs through my mind. “What kind of risks?”
“Severe dehydration, weight loss, and electrolyte imbalances are the primary concerns.” Her tone is practiced but gentle. “Thereis a risk of miscarriage if we don’t get your symptoms under control.”
Miscarriage.
Fear, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, rises like smoke from the pit of my stomach, coiling around me, clouding everything in the vicinity. Doctor Patel is still speaking, but I’m only half listening. Nothing else matters, not the past or present, not Tyler or anyone else. Only her. Onlythem.
I can’t lose them.
“Get some rest, Angelina. I’ll be back to check on you later.” Doctor Patel’s footsteps fade into the distance, and the door closes behind her.
Angie strokes my cheek. “Hey. Where did you go?”
I take her hand in mine and press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I’m so goddamn scared, Angel,” I choke out the words as my strength deserts me.
“We’re okay, Griff.” She opens her arms and beckons me to her. “Come here.”
