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32
SKY
I studythe picture on the wall, opposite the bed, in my private hospital room. I can’t figure out what the image is supposed to be, an abstract of colours, bright to match the surroundings. I don’t feel like I’m in hospital, the suite hotel-like.
What time is it?
The weird hell of my baby’s birth happened somewhere else. To someone else. I’m okay, baby’s okay, and I’m where I should be: in the hospital. I should’ve been here three hours ago, not terrified on my bathroom floor.
The baby isn’t with me. Four weeks early isn’t as dangerous as I worried, but observation needed, and she’s in the nursery. I’m relieved we’re both okay—or as okay as I can be considering the last man on earth I expected was the first person to touch my baby.
I shift uncomfortably, sore. Where’s Dylan? He should be here by now, as soon as Jem or anybody told him he’d be on a plane back to London.
The nurse appears within seconds of me pressing the call button; a short woman, hair scraped back into a ponytail, round-cheeked friendliness on her face. She wasn’t here when I arrived half-dazed. No drugs for my delivery, but I can safely say I was not on this planet.
“Is Dylan here yet?” I ask before she can close the door.
“No.” I swallow and my eyes tear. “Don’t worry, sweetie, he called to say he arrived at Heathrow”
“He could’ve called me,” I say, voice breaking.
“You were sleeping. You need to rest.”
“But I need to talk to him!” My petulance echoes in my head. I want today over. I want my baby, and Dylan, and I want to go home.
“Where is she?” I ask.
The nurse smiles and sits on the edge of the bed. “Let me check you over while I’m here.”
“What’s wrong?” I push back the covers. “Is she okay?”
“Baby’s fine. I’ll fetch him in a moment.”
I hold my arm out dutifully as she slides a cuff around my arm. “Him?”
As the machine takes my blood pressure, she clips something over my finger to take my pulse. I can guarantee it’s high. “Sky, you have a boy, remember?”
“No, my baby’s a girl.”
The nurse’s smile grows. “I can assure you he’s a boy.”
After she was born, the warm, slippery body lying on my chest, the wisps of dark hair and the breath against my skin, blocked out anything anybody said to me. Then they wrapped her up and took her for a few minutes before I held her again.
“No. We were told—she’s a girl.”
“Ultrasounds can be wrong sometimes, Sky. There’s always the chance of a surprise like this.” She tidies away the equipment she used. “The main thing is he’s healthy and doing well considering his impatience.” She squeezes my hand with a smile. “And so are you. We want to keep an eye on him for a few hours, but he’s absolutely fine. No breathing problems.”
Boy? Does Dylan know?
“Do you want to come and see him?”
I pull my hand away and the sheets up against me. “I’m tired. Tell me when Dylan arrives.” Turning my back on her, I curl up in the bed, numb.
* * *
DYLAN
I let Sky down.
