I glance at the clock. It’s barely eight p.m. He’s thirty minutes early. I have no idea how he managed to make it so fast, considering he had to drive from the airport in Chicago to Angel Bay. He must’ve broken some land-speed records of his own.
“How is she?” he asks worriedly as he pulls up the chair on the other side of the bed. “I got here as fast as I could.” His handsome face is ashen as he takes in the full picture of his wife, small and pale in the bed. “Oh my God. I can’t believe this. What did the doctor say? What caused this?”
I explain what the doctor said, and with every word Pax’s face gets paler and paler.
“This could actually threaten her life?” he finally whispers.
I nod. “If the placenta ruptures from the side of her uterus, yes. That’s why she’s got to stay in bed. The more she stands up, the more the force of gravity will pull on the weight of her uterus and could cause the abruption. She’s got to have complete rest.”
“Don’t worry,” Pax says firmly. “She won’t be moving. Not until the baby is born.”
“It’s going to be a long couple months,” I tell him. “But between us, we’ve got to keep her still.”
“If we have to tie her down, we will,” he says. At his words, Mila opens her eyes.
“That won’t be necessary,” she says softly, smiling at her husband. “I’ll stay in bed. And everything will be OK. Madison already promised.”
“Oh, because Madison’s in control of that?” Pax smiles back at his wife, bending to kiss her forehead.
My stomach tightens again at their obvious tenderness for each other. It’s practically palpable. I’ve never seen anyone love each other as much as they do, and while I’m happy for Mila, it makes me feel so very alone.
“You know she’d never let anything hurt me.” Mila nods, grinning. “Seriously, I have faith. Everything is going to be fine.”
“You’re right,” Pax agrees. “You’re going to be fine. And the baby is too.”
They curl up together with Pax half on the bed and half on his chair, his arms encircling Mila as if to protect her from the world.
Pax is a protector. Mila’s protector.
It’s a sight that causes that freaking lump to immediately form back in my throat, both because it’s heartwarming and because I’d like to have what they have… a pure and perfect love for each other.
And someone to protect me from everything that might hurt me.
Someone like Gabe.
Oh my God. I’ve got to get out of here before I embarrass myself.
I stand up and they both look up at me, their cheeks pink and warm from being cuddled together.
“I’m going to head home and shower since Pax is here now. I want to wash off the hospital smell. If you guys need anything, just give me a call. I’ll come out to the house tomorrow to check on you, Mi.” I bend down and kiss her cheek. “I love you. You’re going to be fine.”
“I know,” she tells me confidently. “I love you too.”
I walk through the hospital woodenly as all my emotions come down on me, the fear that Mila could lose her baby, the worry for Mila herself… and the overwhelming loneliness that encompasses me right now.
I don’t even realize until I’ve reached my car that tears are streaming down my cheeks.
Chapter Eleven
My house has never seemed so empty or quiet.
And I have never been quite so alone.
Jacey is covering for me at the Hill because there was no way that I could’ve left Mila to go to work. But now, as I sit all alone on my patio with a bottle of wine, I wish that Jacey were here with me instead. I’m stuck here by myself, with only my worries for company.
They’re bad freaking company.
I take a sip of wine and stare at the sky, watching the storm clouds roll in, heavy and dark.
I stare at my wineglass and remember when my mother bought it, and decide that I need to buy my own freaking glassware.
I stare at the sand behind the house, noticing the way it’s packed down, hard and damp.
I glance back at my watch and find that’s it’s only been one minute since the last time I looked at it.
I’m pathetic. I’m sitting here wallowing in my fear and worry and misery and it’s ridiculous. I can’t keep doing this tonight.
Just as I’m getting up to find something else to do to keep my mind occupied, my doorbell rings. For one split second, I’m panicked that it is bad news about Mila. And then I realize that’s stupid. If something happened, Pax would call. Not send someone.
I open the door and am startled to find Gabriel standing in front of me.
He’s strikingly sexy in his ever-present snug T-shirt and I somehow feel a marked sense of relief just at the mere sight of him.
He grins at me, holding up a silver tube of my lipstick.
“You left this in my car. I figured it must’ve rolled out of your purse. Since it’s not really my color, I figured I should return it.”
I reach for it and he deposits it in my hand, and when he does, the warmth of his hand transfers to my own. It’s the touch I’ve been thinking about for days: his strength, his power.
He smiles at me and I try to smile back, but I suddenly can’t.
My stomach clenches and a tear runs down my cheek.
Then another.
Gabe’s face sobers up and his eyes are veiled as he looks at me, assessing me.
“Are you all right?” Gabe asks, concerned as he stares at me, as his eyes search for what is wrong. He takes a step toward me, then stops. “Are you?” he repeats hesitantly.
I stand limply in front of him, an empty shell, but I nod.
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Would you like a glass of wine? I really don’t want to be alone.” My eyes burn, but I manage to get the words out.
Gabe looks at me, his stormy eyes focused on my face.
“Of course,” he finally answers. He doesn’t even say that he prefers beer and I know that he does.
He takes my arm as I lead him through the house to the terrace. His hand is gentle, and strong, and warm on my elbow. I revel in the feel of it, in the warmth of his fingers, and I hate the coldness when he pulls it away. But we’re on the terrace now, so he steps back, watching me, hesitant.
He’s waiting.
He wants me.
He groans again, grabbing my face and pulling me to him, crushing my lips with his own, hard and yet soft.
I nip at his neck, dragging my teeth along the curve of his shoulder, aching to have him fill me up already, but knowing that we should wait. I want to drag it out, to prolong this exquisite agony of waiting for it.
Of waiting for him.
He stands nak*d in front of me now, tall and proud, and he’s so f**king beautiful.