“Fine. Where is she?”
“Not here. Not now. I’ll let you know when she’s discharged, but the last thing she needs right now is to see your ugly face when she wakes up.”
“Fuck you.” He turns on his heel and strides toward the doors.
“Right back at you.”
When I return to Angie’s room, she’s sitting up in bed, smiling as my mom tucks the blankets tighter around her waist. It’s just like Evelyn Hayes to fuss over her like a mother hen.
At the side of her bed, sitting in a chair is Caroline Davis, with her husband Shawn standing sentry at her back. There’s a large bouquet of sunflowers on a nearby table. Angie must’ve called in reinforcements. It’s a testament to their character that they would drop everything to be here for her. Jess would’ve been here in a heartbeat—I suspect that’s what drew them here, too.
All eyes turn to me as I stride into the room.
Shawn clamps a hand on my shoulder and gives me a thin-lipped smile and a nod. “Congratulations, son. Angie’s just told us the good news.”
Caroline’s hand squeezes mine. “So happy for you both.” Her eyes are full of unspoken emotion. “Jess would’ve been so happy to see you two together.”
“Took them long enough,” Mama says.
A well of sadness takes up residence on Angie’s face. I round the bed and sit on the edge near her feet, needing to benear her. My hand strays to her ankle. Mama tracks the movement, grinning as she pulls up a chair.
“How are you holding up?” Caroline asks. “Can we get you anything?”
“I’m okay. Much better than I was this morning.”
They fawn and fuss over her for another ten minutes before a knock sounds at the door, interrupting the conversation. Doctor Patel strides in, clipboard in hand. “Sorry to interrupt. I’d like to have a chat with my patient if you wouldn’t mind. I can come back in five minutes or so.”
Caroline leans over the bed and hugs Angie. “I really am so very happy for you. Please let us know if you need anything at all.”
“I will. Thank you for coming.”
Shawn and Caroline head out first, and Mama pulls me to the side to talk discreetly while Angie updates her staff about the new developments.
“I had similar symptoms when I was pregnant with Jaxon. I don’t want her staying alone in that house, Griffin. Anything could happen to her or the baby. She’s lost some weight, and she’ssopale.”
Her concern warms my heart. I wrap my arm around her for a brief hug. “I know, Mama. I’m gonna take care of them both.”
She pulls back and pats my cheek. “I’m proud of you, my sweet boy. You’re going to be a wonderful father.”
Doctor Patel returns, prompting Mama to take her leave. She sets down the clipboard and checks Angie’s vitals. “Feeling any better since this morning?”
Angie nods. “I almost feel like a real person again.”
“Good. That means the vitamins and fluids are doing their job,” she replies. “I’d like to keep you here for a couple of days for observation. Geriatric pregnancies can take on an inherently higher risk.”
Shock overtakes Angie’s features as she presses a hand to her chest. “I’m sorry. I think I misheard. Did you just saygeriatric?”
Doctor Patel laughs. It’s obvious this isn’t the first time she’s been questioned about the terminology. “It’s just the technical term for anyone pregnant over the age of thirty-five.”
“Who decided that was a good idea?” Angie asks. Her eyes narrow, and she balls up her fist. “Give me a name. I just wanna talk.”
I cough to hide my laughter, and Angie turns that glare on me. I’m never gonna hear the end of this.
Angelina
I spent two days in the hospital for severe dehydration, and Griffin stayed by my side the entire time. It’s a small consolation. Given my newgeriatricdesignation, I’m less reluctant to let Griffin take care of me. These old bones are tired.
I’m being dramatic, obviously, but I’m still not over the way Doctor Patel casually dropped the G-word. I’m a thriving thirty-six-year-old woman, and while I might be closer to perimenopause than puberty, I’m not there yet.
