Hailey snuffles softly from her carrier, deeply uninterested in the emotional intensity of the room.
I look down at her tiny sleeping face. “You brought backup.”
Tessa smiles faintly. “She’s my emotional support baby.”
“That's a lot of responsibility for somebody who can't hold her own head up yet.”
“She thrives under responsibility.”
Penny stands with a dramatic groan. “I’m getting coffee before my personality deteriorates further.”
“Penny—”
“You’re stable. The babies are stable. Tessa is here. I’ll be back.”
Then she disappears before I can ask her to stay.
Tessa settles into Penny’s abandoned chair.
“I’m sorry she scared you,” I say softly.
“She scared me terribly.” Tessa exhales shakily. “Her text used the words hospital and emergency in all caps. I nearly drove through a stop sign.”
Despite myself, I smile.
Then the smile fades.
“I really thought I was losing them,” I admit.
Tessa’s face softens immediately. “I know.”
My fingers twist together in the blanket. “And all I could think about was the fact that he doesn’t even know they exist yet.”
Tessa stills. “I know Clay leaving made this harder,” she says carefully.
“I knew he’d leave eventually.” I laugh quietly, but it comes out brittle. “Turns out expecting it doesn’t actually help.”
“No,” Tessa says gently. “It doesn’t.”
The room settles into silence except for the monitor beeping and Hailey's tiny sleep noises.
“I don’t know when to tell him now,” I admit.
Tessa studies our joined hands for a moment before answering. “Clay runs when he’s overwhelmed. Always has.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring.”
“No.” A sad little smile crosses her face. “But it’s true.”
I look down at my stomach beneath the blanket.
“I can’t be the reason he comes back,” I whisper.
Tessa answers immediately. “You shouldn’t have to be.”
The certainty in her voice loosens a knot in my chest I didn’t realize I’d been carrying.
Penny returns, balancing terrible coffee, vending machine crackers, and a packet of peanut butter cookies.