“T-that’s not what I… I apologize…”
“You are the doctor here. You are supposed to be the expert. I shouldn’t have to choose between their lives like I’m playing a game of blackjack. You are supposed to save them all. And in saving their lives, you’ll save your own. Because I promise you this: if Alyssa and those two babies don’t come out of this unscathed, I will make sure you pay for it.”
Dr. Grigory’s face isn’t pale anymore so much as a lifeless, ashen gray. He stares up at Uri helplessly. “I will try to do my best…”
“Don’t try,” Uri snarls. “Just do.”
The doctor stumbles out of the room, but even when we’re alone, Uri doesn’t come back to my bedside. He paces up and down, his face a mask of fury and desperation.
“Uri.”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. “There’s got to be another way. Maybe we can move you to another hospital. Maybe—”
“Uri.” He turns abruptly, as though he’s just heard me. “Come here,” I beg him. “Please.”
He moves to the side of my bed and I grab his hand. “Uri, you need to calm down,” I tell him as gently as I can.
His eyes go wide. “Calm down? Alyssa, you heard what that quack had to say—”
“I heard everything just as clearly as you did. But freaking out is not helping the situation, Uri. The stress is not doing me or these babies any favors.”
“We have to figure out a solution, Alyssa,” he snaps. “We can’t just let them make all the decisions for us.”
“They are the professionals, Uri. Dr. Grigory just may know what’s better for me and the babies—”
“If the outcome isn’t two healthy babies, then what the fuck does he know? What the fuck is he good for? I’m going to start looking into other hospitals.”
He reaches for his phone, but I put my hand over his. “Uri, please. You’re not listening to me. A new hospital isn’t going to change anything. What’s the point?”
He scowls at me. “How can you even ask that? The point is what’s best for our children—”
“And moving me in this state is what’s best? You’re not thinking clearly.”
“And you’re not thinking of the bigger picture. Don’t you care about saving both of them?” I rear back as though he’s slapped me. His eyes narrow and he sighs deeply. “Fuck, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean that.”
I blink at him, trying to fight my fear and find grace. He’s hurting just as much as I am. He’s probably just as scared, too.
“Uri,” I whisper, “I’m terrified that we might lose one of these babies. Which is why I need you to take a breath and calm down. I need you in this with me. We have to be in this together. I love how protective you are of all of us, but you can’t let it cloud your judgment. You can’t let it control you.” He’s silent for a long time, his eyes flickering from my face to my belly. I pull his hand to my chest. “Please. For me.”
He takes a deep breath and brings my hand to his lips. “You know I’m with you, no matter what, narushitel.”
I haven’t always been sure of that. Our journey has been riddled with complications—minefields at every turn.
But right here, right now?
I am sure.
47
ALYSSA
I wake up to the weight of a hand over my arm.
And my first thought in those first few seconds of blissful oblivion is, Ziva’s here.
Even when we had the option of having separate rooms, we chose to stay together. Privacy wasn’t really a thing for either one of us. We were twins; we were ride-or-die. We chose to stay together because together, we were stronger, we were safer, we were braver.
And then the choice was taken away from us.
I blink my eyes open and glance down at the hand draped over my elbow. Slowly, that peaceful state of oblivion starts to crackle.
Then it fades away entirely.
Oh, that’s right… Ziva’s not here. Ziva’s not anywhere anymore.
It’s just me.
It used to be that I’d wake up forgetting that she was gone and that moment of realization was like losing her all over again. I would sit in my bed and cry into my pillow, trying frantically to recall her scent, to remember what it felt like to wake up to her cold feet seeking comfort underneath my legs.
But now?
It’s the first time that I’ve remembered that she’s gone without feeling like my world is ending all over again.