Page 129 of Embracing the Beat
Fuck. Relief mixes with fear. The hospital bed dwarfs her. She’s got an IV attached to her arm, and a drab gray gown leeches most of the color from her skin. I want to rush forward and reassure myself she’s here, but I’m terrified my movements will cause her pain like they had earlier.
“Hi,” I whisper, my eyes drinking her in.
“Hi.” Her voice is quiet, a mix of uncertainty and exhaustion.
“I’m going to check on the ultrasound order.” The nurse leaves the two of us, pulling the curtain closed behind her, and I hear the slide of the door, followed by a snick of the latch.
“I—are you okay?”
“Do you want to sit?” she asks, and my heart falls to my feet. Usually, bad news is delivered sitting down.
Terror must be visible on my face because she keeps talking.
“No. Oh, god, no. Everything’s fine. Just sit, please.”
Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine.
I take several deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart, and lower myself carefully to the side of her bed since there isn’t a chair in the room.
“Everything’s fine?” I ask. “You? The baby?”
“We’re both okay.” She cups her stomach over the blanket, wincing at the IV band pulled tight across her arm.
“Take it easy there.” I untangle the line from her bedrail, my hand hovering above hers where it rests on her abdomen.
“Here.” She takes my hand and gently places it on her stomach. “You can’t feel anything yet. But I can’t stop touching it.”
I nod, understanding. The warmth radiating from her through the gown pulls me to her like a magnet, and I never want to let go.
“What happened?” I finally pull my attention from where my hand rests and meet her eyes.
“They ran a bunch of tests. Throwing out scary words like placental abruption and miscarriage.” Her voice wobbles, and my free hand finds hers on the covers. “But they were relieved there wasn’t any spotting, so they started an IV and an exam.”
She grimaces.
“Did they stop the cramps?”
“Not until after the exam,” she whispers, and I want to take away all the pain she endured.
“But they’re gone now?”
She nods. “Once the IV had a chance to work, I started to feel better. The cramping finally released. Turns out I was dehydrated.”
“Dehydrated?”
She nods. “I didn’t think I was. But I guess so.”
I release a breath, most of the tension finally ebbing from my shoulders in a painful wave of relief.
I lift my hand to her cheek, loving when she leans into my touch.
“I was so worried about you. Both of you,” I admit. “The last hour felt like it took a thousand years off my life.”
“We’re okay,” she reassures me. Flipping her hand over, she interlaces her fingers with mine. “They want to do an ultrasound to check on the baby.”
“You probably want some privacy then.” I shift to stand up.
“Wait.” She clears her throat and lowers her voice. “Did you—um—would you like to stay?”
