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Nurses are in no rush to get her back. Not even sending us to OB. Waste of time.
Better safe than sorry. I’m sure it’ll be quick if it’s nothing major.
She’s pissy. Keeps trying to touch me or see who I’m texting.
It’s scary to think something’s wrong with your baby. Try to talk with her.
Finally we’re called back to a curtained-off room. A nurse draws blood, then leaves us alone with the promise that results will take a while.
Veronica perches on the edge of the hospital bed, ankles crossed, fake-weak voice in full effect. “I just thought… maybe this would bring us back together.”
I stare at the beige wall so I don’t say something unforgivable.
“We were good once,” she continues. “We could be again. For the baby.”
I inhale through my nose, then let it out slowly.
“Veronica,” I start carefully, “I’m not getting back together with you.”
She blinks, like she didn’t hear me correctly.
“If this baby is mine, I’ll co-parent with you. That’s it.”
Her face crumples in slow motion. “I should have known you were a deadbeat. Already abandoned one woman who had your kid.”
I still haven’t told her that Blaire and I are back together. I knew the second I did it would explode, and I didn’t want her twisting it into something ugly. But watching her sit here spinning fantasies while we wait on bloodwork, I realize I can’t let the delusion go on any longer.
“Veronica…” I sit forward in the chair beside her bed. “Blaire and I… are together again.”
The silence that follows is loud enough to fill the whole damn hospital.
“What?” she spits.
“We’re together,” I repeat. “We got back together.”
“You fucked things up already with Blaire,” she snaps, voice rising. “You said it yourself that she made it clear she didn’t want you anymore. This is your chance to start over with someone who actually wants you.”
Something cold slides through my veins.
“Start over?” I echo, blinking at her in disbelief.
“That’s what you should do!” she cries. “It’s what’s fair!”
I stand and reach for the curtain.
“Text me the results,” I say, voice flat. “I’m not sitting here for this.”
“Simon—!”
But I’m already walking out, the curtain swinging shut behind me.
Chapter thirty-two
Blaire
The driveway is already a mess of cars when I pull in. Theo has a death grip on the egg platter in the back seat, I grab the casserole.
Simon should be the one carrying this. Simon should be the one getting Theo out of his seat, kissing my temple, walking up to the door like we belong here together.
