Page 187 of Clinically Bewitched
I took her free hand. “Hi,” I said.
“Hi.” She squeezed my hand. “Sorry about the schedule.”
“The schedule doesn’t matter.”
“Really? Because you made six spreadsheets.”
“Seven. I made a seventh one last night.”
She laughed. “Of course you did.”
Dr. Morrison appeared from the corner of the room, where he’d been reviewing monitors. “Dr. Darcy. Good timing. We’re going to take her for a C-section in about twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?”
“The babies are doing well, but Baby A is showing some signs of distress. Nothing critical, but I’d rather not wait.”
Baby A in distress?
My medical training kicked in automatically. “What kind of distress? Heart rate variability? Decreased movement? Cord compression?”
“Mild heart rate deceleration during contractions. Nothing alarming, but given that we’re dealing with triplets, I would rather be proactive.”
Proactive. Yes. That makes sense.
That’s logical.
“Julien,” Athena said softly.
I looked at her.
“Breathe,” she said.
“I am breathing.”
“You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not—” I stopped. “Maybe a little.”
“The babies are fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“But the schedule.”
“The universe had other plans.”
The universe.
Of course. The universe that has been laughing at me since the moment I met this woman.
The universe that has taken my carefully ordered life and turned it into beautiful, chaotic, perfect chaos. The universe that is now delivering my children two days early, just to prove a point.I looked at Athena. At her calm smile, her steady breathing, her complete lack of panic, and felt something shift inside me.
She’s not afraid. She’s never been afraid. Because she trusts the universe. She trusts that everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. Even when it doesn’t match the plan.
Especially when it doesn’t match the plan.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?”
