Chapter 9 Winston
WINSTON
I consider myself a patient man. At least, I always thought I was until this moment. Every second Dove is in surgery, I become more impatient.
The nurses placed me in the room they’ll bring Dove to when she’s out of surgery, and I’ve never paced so much in my life. My hands are cleaned of her blood, but there are sections of my shirt that are stained in red.
Running my fingers nervously through my hair, I peek at the large round clock hanging on the wall.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble to myself with exhaustion.
It’s only been five minutes since I’ve looked at the time. One doctor is working on saving the life of the woman I know is meant to be mine while another is running tests on my son since he was born an entire month early.
My head sways and I pause in the middle of my pacing, grabbing onto the edge of the empty bed.
I haven’t eaten or had a drop of water in ages.
The adrenaline rush is crashing, the worry is settling in.
I turn, leaning my entire weight on the bed to regain my composure.
My hands grip the edge of the bed so hard, a creak and groan sound in the empty space.
The slight tick of the clock irritates the low throb forming between my eyes.
I hang my head, shut my eyes, and take a few deep breaths, hoping that will be enough to calm me down.
All the sounds around me heighten instead of fade.
My heart begins to race when the memory of her bleeding out on the plane plays on repeat in my head like a movie.
My breathing becomes faster. My hand clutches my heart when a pain shoots across my chest. It isn’t a heart attack, but I need to calm down. I have to be the one who’s steady and strong. Dove has to focus on her recovery, and she needs me to be there for our son.
I don’t even care if he isn’t mine by blood. Don’t get me wrong, I hope he is because that would bind her to me forever, and that’s all I truly want, but at the end of the day, if he isn’t biologically mine, then I’ll raise him as if he is.
“She’ll be fine,” I say to myself, needing to hear the words out loud.
The noises around me continue to amplify, causing my hands to clutch the bed harder.
The squeaks of shoes running down the hall as doctors and nurses run to save a life.
The constant murmurs of conversations. The faraway cry of a child echoing down the halls.
I rub the side of my head, begging the ache to go away to allow me to calm down.
I’m usually so much more composed than this.
Ever since meeting Dove, she’s turned my world upside down and inside out.
Nothing makes sense without her. I don’t make sense without her.
My fucking world doesn’t make sense without her.
I’ve been scrambling to get myself together mentally and emotionally since Costa Rica.
I’m not letting her go this time. Not now. Not ever.
My phone rings from my pocket, startling me, and I let out a long breath. That’s actually just what I needed to bring myself to a normal state.
I don’t bother looking at the name on the screen when I swipe to answer. “Hello?” My voice is hoarse, and I know I sound exhausted.
“For goodness sake, Winston, I’ve been calling for two hours.
I got notified your plane made an emergency landing and you haven’t checked into the hotel or conference yet.
What the hell is happening? The news isn’t giving any information besides that you helped a pregnant woman, which is phenomenal, but what happened?
Are you okay? Did something happen to the plane?
Was there a malfunction? Do I need to call the family lawyer?
Do I need to come down there? I will. I’ll call in the back-up assistant and be there in a few hours.
” Olivia manages to somehow say all those statements and questions without taking one breath.
I yawn, daring to look at the damn clock again.
Only another five minutes have passed. This is the longest day of my life.
“Hold on one second, Olivia.” I place the phone against my shoulder and march out the door.
Glancing left and right to see no doctor in a fucking hurry, I lose the rest of the patience that has been holding by a thread.
“Can someone give me a fucking update on my damn fiancée and newborn son? Anyone!” I bellow down the hall so loud that every single head that’s lost in a medical chart or computer whips up to stare at me.
“Anyone? Can anyone fucking help me? Do I need to get privileges from this hospital myself in order to get answers? I’m Dr. Winston Warrick, of the Warrick Group, and chief of surgery at Warrick General Hospital.
I assume all of you know who the fuck I am,” I growl in a threatening manner.
“I’m not above being unprofessional. I will consolidate this hospital until it is nothing but empty space if someone doesn’t give me an update.
What kind of doctors work here!” My chest is heaving from how much energy I’ve exerted, shouting at people I don’t know.
That’s unlike me.
I’m usually composed, kind, and understanding to a fault, but all the good qualities about me have flown out the window.
I’m just a man needing an update on how his family is doing.
I’m another human worried about my loved ones.
And no one has given me any answers since I’ve arrived.
I would never run my hospital like this.
I have nurses give family updates every hour, so they aren’t in the waiting room worried and driving themselves insane with horrible conclusions and anxiety.
“Hello? Hello!” Olivia yells into the phone. “What is going on over there?”
Her voice reminds me that I’m not alone. She heard everything I just said.
Placing the phone against my ear, I sigh. “Sorry about that. No one has given me an update.”
“I know what that’s like,” she snarks. “But who’s your fiancée? I don’t believe I’ve met her? Your newborn? What’s going on, Dr. Warrick?”
“I’m sorry, Olivia.” I sigh, my expensive Italian leather loafers scuffing against the ground as I drag my exhausted body to the recliner settled in the corner. I sit down and stretch my neck left, then right until it cracks, and I groan in relief. “It’s been a long day.”
“I’m booking a flight there. I already reserved myself a room when I made the hotel accommodations—just in case, don’t be mad. I think you might need me with everything going on. Start from the beginning.”
I’m not going to argue with her. It would be great to have my personal assistant here. She could help out so much so I can focus on Dove and my son.
“Well, you aren’t going to believe this, but Dove, the woman I’ve been looking for?
She was on the plane, and she was eight months pregnant.
What’s crazy, Olivia, is that she was at the hospital the day before the flight.
I knew it was her and I tried to bribe Dr. Leighton to give me information, but she wouldn’t, of course. She shouldn’t. That was wrong of me.”
“Wait. Dove was here? At Warrick General? She’s been in the city this entire time?” Olivia screeches with excitement.
“Seems like it. She’s been so close the entire time. In a city so big, it’s no wonder I couldn’t find her, not even with that useless private investigator I hired.”
A small beat of silence passes.
“And the baby? Is it yours?” she asks with trepidation, as if she isn’t sure if she’s allowed to ask.
I lean forward in the recliner, my eyes locked on the doorway, waiting for fucking anyone to come through.
“I don’t know. I think so? I don’t want to assume, but the timing makes sense with how far along she was.
If so, I delivered my son on the airplane, but he was an entire month early, and I’ve gotten no updates!
” I shout loud enough for anyone in the hallway to hear me.
“Remind me to investigate this hospital, Olivia. I dislike it.”
“Dr. Warrick, do you dislike it or are you a terrified human waiting for updates? Think about all of your patients. They’ve probably thought the same things you’re thinking of.”
I shake my head in disagreement. “No, I haven’t gotten one update, Olivia. Not one. At Warrick General, patients get updates. They aren’t waiting around.”
A knock on the door has me lift my head. A nurse in light-pink scrubs has a bright smile on her face, pushing a bassinet. “I have a little one here wanting his father,” she greets.
“Olivia. I got to go.” I don’t give her time to say another word. I hang up the phone, uncaring if she wasn’t done speaking.
My son is here.
I set my phone on the table and stand, suddenly feeling emotional as I step forward. “Is he okay? Is he healthy? Any defects? Health issues that I need to be aware of?”
“No, Dr. Warrick,” she says with a knowing lift to her eyebrows.
She must have heard me shout a few minutes ago.
“He’s perfectly healthy. He passed all of our tests.
He weighs seven pounds on the dot. Do you want to hold him?
” The nurse dips her arms in the bassinet, gathering my son who’s wrapped in a light-blue blanket.
I rush to the hand sanitizer dispenser, rubbing the cooling gel over my hands and down to my elbows. “Yes, I do. Please. And I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. I understand how patients feel now.”
“It’s no trouble at all. And once our own chief of surgery heard you were here, he made sure you got the answers you were wanting, Dr. Warrick. We had no idea who you were at first. We apologize.”
I stare at my son, still so pink and fresh. I bring him to my face and inhale, wanting that baby scent that’s so addicting. “He’s perfect,” I whisper, tilting my head up to blink away the tears. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.” I lift my shoulder to wipe my eyes. “His mom? How is Dove doing?”
The smile on the nurse’s face fades a little, showing a small crack in her facade. “The doctor will be in soon to update you.”