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I gently placed Lucy on the stretcher, watching while they did whatever medical stuff they needed to do. I didn’t understand most of it, beyond taking her pulse and lifting her eyelids to shine a flashlight into her eyes. She was completely unresponsive, pale, limp.
“And you are?”
I knew without a doubt that if I answeredjust a friend, they’d ask for next of kin details and I’d be shut out. So, without thinking about the consequences, I said, “Captain Dante Moretti. I’m her fiancé.”
“Okay, well, we’re going to take her to the hospital. You can ride with us if you like.”
“Great, thanks.” I was impressed at how calm I sounded, since inside I was a big ball of panic. The ride to the hospital was short, thank goodness, and in no time they were pushing the stretcher bed through the double doors, relaying a stream of information to the waiting doctor.
Then everyone was gone, the EMT’s onto their next call and the doctor and two nurses with Lucy beyond another set of double doors. The doctor had given me a curt, “Wait here,” before following behind the stretcher. So that was it. All I could do was take a seat in the waiting room. I didn’t even know if I should contact someone. It would be hella weird to call Bruce Cooper right now and give him the news. What would I say, exactly? I let myself off the hook by telling myself I’d call them when I knew more about what was going on and how Lucy wanted to handle it. If she still hadn’t told them about us or her pregnancy, it wasn’t my place to do it without speaking with her first. Fuck, what a mess.
Before I could spiral too far into complete and utter panic mode, a young woman came over with a clipboard. Handing it to me, she said, “We just need to get these details down, starting with your insurance, if that’s okay.”
“Sure thing.” At least it gave me something to do.
* * *
Anail-biting hour later, a nurse came out. I jumped to my feet, my heart hammering. She smiled at me reassuringly, and I took a deep, steadying breath. Surely she wouldn’t look like that if Lucy was in a coma, or…dead.
“Dante, is it?”
“Yeah. How is she? Is she gonna be okay?”
“She will be. She’s severely dehydrated, so we’ve got her on a drip. We’ve got some other tests in the works to be sure, but for now she’s okay and I know you’ll be happy to hear the baby is fine. You’re welcome to come through now and see her.”
“Thanks.”
I followed her through the double doors, my mind whirling. There was something I needed to do; I just had to convince Lucy to go along with it. I’d done all the necessary research on my phone in that long, agonizing hour and I was ready to act the moment she said she was on board.
The nurse gestured through the open doorway of a private room, saying softly, “The doctor will come and see you when we have the test results. For now, I’ll leave you two alone.” Then she left.
Okay. I could do this. I could make it right. I stepped through the door, taking a moment to reassure myself that Lucy really was okay. “Hey.” She turned her head. I could see that she already looked better. Still pale, but not as bad, and her eyes didn’t look as sunken, or her cheeks quite as hollow. A clear bag hanging from a pole was dripping a steady stream of fluids into her arm and I knew it was why she looked so much better. She also had a peg on her index finger, feeding data into a machine on a table next to the bed. It was obvious she was getting the very best care, and it confirmed for me that my plan was a good one.
“Hey. Sorry for all the drama.”
I shrugged, pulling up a plastic chair and sitting close to her bedside. “How are you?”
“I already feel a lot better, thanks. One of the nurses said they suspect hyperemesis gravidarum.”
Fuck, that sounded bad. “What’s that?”
“Excessive nausea and vomiting. Think morning sickness on steroids.”
“That sounds awful.”
“Not gonna lie, it hasn’t been great. But apparently there are drugs and stuff they can give me so I can keep food down and not get dehydrated again.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
The conversation lapsed, and the silence was uncomfortable. I blew out a breath. Time to lay it all out.
“Dante—”
“Lucy—”
We smiled when we both started at the same time, then she said, “You go first.”
