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My mom cried for two days straight after she found out that I drank and avoided Olivia for so long after Maxim asked me if she could be pregnant. My dad… Disappointment doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Mike nearly punched me, but thankfully, Karen stopped him. Although, I do kind of deserve it. All things considered, Monday was a total shit show.
I’ve been messaging Olivia multiple times a day since, but I haven’t seen her again. Isabella has stopped talking to me too. Maxim is trying to get through it all with me, but I can see that he’s still pissed off about the way I handled things, and Emma shakes her head every time she sees me, which is often considering that I’m still crashing in their guest room.
As I lie on my bed in the dark, I stare up at the faint outline of the ceiling fan and hope that at least Olivia’s getting some sleep. It’s some obscene hour in the morning, and I haven’t managed to shut my eyes at all yet.
I just keep playing it all over in my head, everything from that day at our office when Maxim pointed out that she could be pregnant. It’s hard to believe that it was only about a week ago. So much has changed since then. Just about the only thing that hasn’t changed is that I still love Olivia more than life itself, but now I need to find a way to prove to her that she can trust me to be there.
I think showing up for the first doctor’s visit was a good first step, but it’s not nearly enough. After that, I’ve been checking in with her. I’ve been making sure she’s got everything she needs, and I’ve signed her up for a meal service that delivers wholesome homemade meals.
I’ve also been reading up a lot on pregnancy in general and pregnancies with multiples in particular. I’m trying to arm myself with knowledge that she may need or want but doesn’t have the time or emotional capacity to take in right now.
Other than that, I’m researching what she could need during the pregnancy and what we need for the babies once they come home from the hospital. It’s been… interesting. Terrifying but interesting.
Tomorrow is Friday, and I still haven’t heard anything from Olivia about moving back to our apartment. If there’s still radio silence on that front by Saturday morning, I’m going to talk to her about it face to face.
As part of my efforts to win her back, I’ve also been sending her one thing I love about her to wake up to every morning and one promise I intend on keeping for her and the babies before she falls asleep at night. So far, I haven’t gotten any responses on any of those, but I know she’s been reading them.
My first promise was to attend every doctor’s visit with her during the pregnancy and to take care of any logistics that may arise from said visits. That’s why I started sending the meals. Dr. Cheerful said good nutrition was vital and she really needed to focus on staying healthy.
I’ve offered to go for walks with her too, but that’s another thing she hasn’t responded to just yet. It’s weird, but no part of me is willing to give up. I thought there would be, but there just… isn’t. I want to be with Olivia, and I’m going to fight for her with everything I’ve got.
When my phone starts ringing, I jump, instantly on high alert. There was a time not so long ago that three a.m. phone calls weren’t anything to worry about. I even got them semi-regularly, but not anymore. That time is long gone.
Swiping it off my nightstand, I’m out of bed in the same beat that I see the name of the caller. “Isabella? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Liv,” she says shakily, and I hear activity on the other end of the line, but I can’t quite make out what’s going on. “I’m taking her to the emergency room. We’re on our way now. She’s bleeding, Vince. Not badly, but she’s bleeding.”
My heart slams to a stop before it starts racing. “How is she feeling? Is she in any pain? I’m coming. I’ll meet you there. Are you in the car already, or can I pick you up?”
“No, we’re at my car now. It’ll take you too long to get here. Meet us there.” She murmurs something to Olivia before she’s back. “There’s no pain. Just some discomfort. Vincent…”
“I’m coming. I’ll be there. Tell her I love her, okay?”
“Okay.” She hangs up, and I’m almost at the door by the time she does.
I haven’t changed out of the sweatpants I wore to bed, but I put on a shirt and shoes while we were on the phone and I grab my jacket from the coat rack on my way out.
“Vincent?” Maxim calls groggily. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”
Twisting to face him as I open the door, I shake my head. “I don’t know. Liv’s bleeding. I’m heading to the hospital now. She’s on her way there with Iz.”
My brother wakes up immediately, all traces of sleep disappearing from his eyes as he curses and races back to their bedroom while yelling back at me over his shoulder. “Emma and I will meet you there. I’ll take care of calling Mom and Dad. Text me as soon as you know more.”
Before I can even nod, I’m out the door and running down the hall to the elevator at a full sprint. When I get to my car, I gun it out of the parking lot, and although there’s always traffic in New York, it’s much lighter at this hour.
It’s not even ten minutes later when I’m pulling up at the hospital, my tires squealing as I hit the brakes. Since I know Maxim’s not far behind me, I leave the car in front of the door and toss my keys to the night security guard. “My brother will park it in a minute.”
Without bothering to wait for a response, I race past him and find Isabella waiting right inside the doors. If the guard wants to have my car impounded, then that’s what he needs to do. I’ll deal with it later.
Zeroing in on our friend, I’m halfway across the lobby when she turns to face me, and there are tears in her eyes. My heart squeezes and skips about ten beats, but she doesn’t let me wonder for long before she starts filling me in.
“She’s with the nurses,” she says. “They’ve called the doctor, and he’s on his way. You’re allowed in, but I’m not. Go, Vince. Bed four.”
She doesn’t need to tell me twice. In fact, I don’t even stop when I reach her. I just keep going across the lobby and down the hall to the emergency room. There’s a receptionist that tries to flag me down, but I don’t stop for her either.
Instead, I just call out as I rush past her. “Vincent Moore. I’m going to bed four.”
