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That knocks the wind out of her sails. “She tried to hide it, you know. From me, her kids, everyone here, but we could all see it.”

“See what?”

“Pain. Deep-seated pain that has such a stranglehold on her, I’m not sure you’ll ever find a way back in.”

“Then I’ll spend the rest of my life trying because even if she never takes me back, I need her to know that she was worth fighting for.”

She stares at me long and hard before she sighs. “You make me glad I’m gay. Men are just too dumb to understand women.” I wait her out as she groans. “Do not make me regret this.”

“Never.”

“She’s at the hospital. It’s where she’s been for the last month. There’s been some…complications with the pregnancy.” My face must pale because she grabs my arm as if to steady me. “She’s okay. So is the baby. They’re just monitoring her to make sure that doesn’t change.”

“I don’t understand. What’s wrong with her?”

“She has pre-eclampsia. Left untreated, it can be fatal, but she’s in the best possible place…”

I don’t hear the rest. I’m out of the pub and in my car and heading to the hospital, breaking every speed limit along the way.

37

Emma

“I’m sorry, Miss Richards, I know this isn’t the news you hoped for.”

Tears run down my face, but I don’t bother to wipe them away. There’s no point—they run in an endless stream. I did everything they asked of me, spent a month in this godforsaken bed, slowly losing the will to live. And it was all for nothing.

“It’s too soon. The baby’s too small.”

“Right now, Miss Richards, the baby is in more danger staying inside you. Both of you are. Babies born at 34 weeks have an excellent survival rate. They may need a little time in the NICU, but I wouldn’t suggest this if I truly didn’t believe this would give us the best possible outcome. If we don’t deliver this baby soon, you may not be around to watch them be born at all.”

“I’m scared,” I admit.

“And that’s perfectly normal, especially given your history. But I promise you, I’ve performed this surgery hundreds of times. I could do it with my eyes closed.”

“Please don’t.”

He chuckles. “I don’t want to toot my own horn, but you really are in the best hands.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“I know it’s easier said than done, but try to rest. I’m going to consult my team and get things moving. Once the ball is rolling, everything will happen at quite a fast pace. I don’t want you to panic, so I’ll have one of the nurses come and talk to you. Would you like them to call anyone for you?

“My daughter Sophie. She’s my birthing partner.” After having this discussion about worst-case scenarios last week, she’ll let everyone else know what’s happening.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Miss Richards. Trust me.”

I nod and swipe at my tears. Maybe I am being overly dramatic, but I can’t help it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so scared and alone before. “Thanks.”

He nods and leaves, closing the door behind him but not shutting it completely. I can still hear the noise from people moving up and down the corridor, but it’s not so bad that I can’t block it out. If only I could block out all the rest. If the last few months has taught me anything, it’s that I was woefully unprepared for the shit to continually hit the fan.

I’m not sure how many more hits I can take. After passing out and the ambulance crew breaking down my door to get to me, I’ve spent every moment since at the hospital on bed rest. When I woke up, I thought I’d lost the baby. I was so thankful to find out I hadn’t; I’d have agreed to anything. I had no idea how boring it would be, though. As someone who likes to keep busy, my mental health has taken a hit from being cooped up here for weeks on end. I’ve had visitors, of course, but the visiting hours clash with Stacey’s, Jessie’s, and Danny’s working hours, so visits have been few and far between. Sophie has been here the most, but she has a life and a new job to think about—though her employer has been really understanding, considering.

I sigh, feeling so frustrated with myself. I wasn’t good at much in my life. I never got the chance to reach my potential. What I was good at was being a mom, and for a long time, that was my whole personality. Now I’m failing at that too.

I feel the stupid tears well up in my eyes again as I cup my stomach and sing softly. Hiccups mar the lullaby. I need my baby to know I’m here and that I love them. I need them to know I’m sorry. I send up a prayer that the doctor is right and everything will be okay, but this pregnancy has been fucked-up from the start. Everything that could go wrong has, so why would the birth be any different?

I’m just so tired of trying and failing. When will I get a goddamn break? The universe must hate me because it feels like every time I finally have a handle on something, something else comes along and fucks with me. Maybe I was an awful person in a former life.