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I blow out a breath. “It is. That’s the problem.”
CHAPTER 25
Blake
I’m awaitingthe judge’s ruling on my last case when one of the district’s legal secretaries comes over to whisper a message.
“Mr. Bourgeois, I’m sorry, but we just got a phone call from a Loren Reed? She asked us to let you know that she wasn’t feeling well so she was going to drive herself to the hospital.”
My heart drops to my toes as soon as I hear Loren’s name. I know it must be something serious for her to have a message delivered. “Is, uh—is that all she said?” I ask, finding it harder to breathe by the second.
“I think she mentioned something about meeting your sister there,” the secretary adds, giving me a sad smile.
I take a measured breath, willing myself not to panic. Hopefully she’s with Tenley now, who I know will take good care of her. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”
“Is everything all right, Mr. Bourgeois?” asks the judge a second later.
“Um, no, your honor. Actually, my girlfriend is pregnant, and I just got a message that she had a medical emergency.”
“By all means, then, please go,” he excuses me. “We can finish up without you.” I apologize to my clients, grab my things, and scurry out of the courtroom as fast as possible. Our courthouse has a no-cellphones policy, so I call Loren as soon as I get to my truck.
“Hey,” she answers quietly. “I’m sorry to bother you in court.”
“What? No, I don’t care about that. Are you okay?”
“I think so. I just … well, I’ll spare you the gory details, but I started having some scary symptoms at school earlier. I called Tenley, and she told me to meet her at the hospital. I’m feeling okay now, but they just hooked me up to a few monitors, and I think she’s coming to check on us.”
“Okay. Um, I’m on my way.”
“Blake, you don’t have to rush over here. I didn’t mean for you to leave work. I just thought you’d want to know something was up.”
I sigh, because it’s super annoying when she tries to downplay stuff like this, especially when she feeds me the “you don’t have to trouble yourself” line. “No, I’m glad you called, because I care about you, and I want to be there for you.”
“Okay. If you insist,” she says after a second, sniffling.
“I do. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
I look down after we hang up and notice I’ve been going nearly twenty miles over the speed limit. I shrug it off and hope my work connections will get me out of a ticket if I get caught. I don’t know why I’m in such a hurry, since it’s not like I can do anything to help if Loren and the babies are actually in danger. I just can’t bear to think of her being alone and afraid. I know she’s a capable adult, yet I find myself wanting to be there to hold her hand, and maybe even liking the idea that she needs my support.
And then I make the huge mistake of letting my mind wander into what-if territory.
What if Loren loses the babies? Would she be relieved? Would I? I cringe, my face mimicking the way my stomach clenches at the thought. I can’t imagine a world in which either of us wouldn’t want our babies to be safe and healthy, much less to exist. Sure, having kids outside of marriage or even a serious relationship is inconvenient, but that’s our own fault.
Then I’m off on another tangent, thinking about whether she’d want to have anything to do with me if not for the pregnancy. Sadly, I know the answer to that after reflecting on the morning after our babies’ conception.
Finally, I wonder about the statistical chances that we’d ever get together and make not one but two babies in the first place. I suddenly feel very lucky and grateful that things happened the way they did, though I don’t understand the reasons yet. And I desperately hope that all three of them are okay … maybe even pray for it.
It’s not that I never pray or that I don’t believe in God, but less so in His interest in our mundane lives, especially when it pertains to intervening in the consequences of our own actions. Then again, maybe it’s worse that Loren and our unborn children might suffer because of the mistakes I’ve made over the years, since this whole situation is technically my fault.
I’m definitely above bartering with God. But I figure it can’t hurt to think about cleaning up my act, on the off chance that it might save them from bearing the brunt of some of my wrongdoings. At worst, it’ll make me a better father later.
My mind finally slows down by the time I drive up to the hospital. I toss my suit jacket into the back seat before rushing into the building.
“I’m looking for my girlfriend, Loren Reed,” I tell the ER receptionist. “Cute little brunette, pregnant with twins?”
She smiles. “The midwife just took her back for some tests. If you want to hang out in the waiting room?—”
“I need to see her. Please?”
