Love Song(119)

The thought unleashes the tears. Mom instantly clutches my hand and strokes my hair while Dr. Lechie gently touches my arm before leaving to continue her rounds. I barely notice she’s gone. Or that she was there in the first place.

“I want to see Wyatt,” I choke out.

“Are you sure?” Mom asks.

“Please, can someone go get him?”

Dad nods and disappears from the room. He’s only gone for five minutes, but it feels like an eternity before Wyatt appears in the doorway. Relief catches in my throat at the sight of him. He looks beautiful, even in the harsh glare of hospital lighting. And his hair is beyond messy, which tells me he’s been dragging his hand through it in that waiting room.

“Freckles,” he says, his eyes full of concern.

My parents give us privacy as he approaches the bed. He cups my cheeks and urgently searches my face.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” I whisper. “The baby’s gone.” My throat closes up. “Well, technically, the baby was never even there. It had zero chance of survival.”

“I know. The doctor explained it to us.” He strokes my cheek, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone, and a few tears spill out. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Now I’m crying in earnest. Dr. Lechie had said something about hormones and that I still have high levels of HCG in my system. Apparently they’ll need to monitor my levels until they return to zero to make sure no “tissue” remains. And I’m going to be a hormonal basket case for at least a few weeks, if not longer. Awesome.

“Oh, baby, please don’t cry.”

Wyatt sits on the bed, infinitely gentle as he pulls me into his arms. I feel a twinge of pain in my side, but I don’t care. I bury my face against Wyatt’s chest, breathing in his familiar spicy scent, filling my lungs with it so I don’t have to smell that horrible antiseptic anymore.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” he murmurs in my hair. “And I know you’re upset. But you’re young, and you’re healthy, and the doctor said you still have both tubes—”

“I wanted it.”

He stiffens in surprise.

I lift my head, wiping my tears. “I didn’t even realize how much I wanted it until right now, and now it’s just gone.”

“I think…maybe I wanted it too,” Wyatt says, and for some reason, that triggers a jolt of anger.

“Stop lying.”

He’s taken aback. “I’m not lying.”

I turn my head, suddenly unable to look at him. Every breath feels like I’m dragging broken glass through my lungs. The anger has come out of nowhere, making me feel small and embarrassed but at the same time helpless to stop it.

“Please look at me,” he says softly.

But I can’t. I don’t know why. All I know is there’s this cynical voice in my head telling me that the grief I see in his eyes isn’t real. It’s fake. That what he’s really feeling is relief.

“It’s fine, Wyatt,” I mumble. “You don’t have to pretend.”

His hand finds my chin, gently forcing my head toward him. The shock and hurt on his face evoke a rush of guilt, but the fear has already taken hold, coiling inside my chest like a boa constrictor.

“You didn’t want this,” I say. “Not really. It’s okay to admit that.”

“That’s not true. Neither of us even knew what we wanted. We agreed to decide after the scan.”

I wrap my arms around myself and dig my nails into my skin, trying to steady myself. “It’s fine,” I repeat. “You pretended to be cool with it for me, and I appreciate that, but—”

“Stop saying that,” he interrupts, and his voice breaks. “I wasn’t pretending.”

He’s lying. He has to be. He has to be breathing easier without the weight of a baby crushing down on him. I’m not a fool. Any man would be relieved, and especially a man who’s had commitment issues his entire life.

“I was at peace with either option,” Wyatt says softly. “I promise you that.”

My throat closes around a sob. “You’re saying that because it’s what I need to hear right now.”

His eyes search mine. I sense his frustration, his panic. He pries my hand out of my death grip on myself and squeezes it tight.

“I know what you’re doing, and I understand why, but please don’t shut me out. I’m here with you. Right here with you. Always.”

I shrug my hand away. “Can you go get my mom?”

Wyatt flinches as if I struck him. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Please.” I twist my face away from him, the tears soaking the pillow. “I just want my mom.”





Chapter 48


WYATT





BLAKE IS DISCHARGED FROM THE hospital less than twenty-four hours after being admitted. It seems too soon for me, but apparently this is a common surgery, so minimally invasive she’ll barely have a scar. Nonetheless, I don’t like the idea of sending her home when she’s still so fragile. Everything makes her cry, even leaving the hospital. She has to be in a wheelchair because it’s policy, and when a mother and her young son can’t fit onto the elevator and say, “We’ll take the next one,” Blake bursts into tears because there was no room.