Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
EMMA
I smoothed down my dress for the millionth time, plastering on my best ‘everything’s under control’ smile. Three months had flown by since Abi and Finn’s wedding, and I’d thrown myself into work like it was going out of style. Anything to keep my mind off a certain charming Hollywood agent with a smile that could melt glaciers.
Considering how far I’d fallen from cloud nine ever since, it shouldn’t have been hard to put the man behind me. Perpetual exhaustion followed me. If not for the vats of coffee I consumed daily, I’m not sure I would have been able to claw my way out of bed.
Even worse, I appeared to have picked up a stomach bug at some point and it refused to clear. I could rarely keep food down, my body ached like crazy, and I vomited at the absolute worst times.
And I meant the worst times.
Two weeks ago, I’d lost the battle with nausea and thrown up on a bride’s dress. That bride had understandably been furious. Unfortunately, she also turned out to be well connected. Business was down. Like approaching the red down. Weddings were dropping off my calendar and I couldn’t do anything about it. Between that and the exhaustion, every day had become an absolute struggle.
What should you do when you’re sick and getting sicker? Take a break, right? A sick day at least. But what if you ran the business, and it couldn’t function without you? Work through was my answer three weeks ago. At this stage, I was petrified that I’d be forced to take a break.
The Perier wedding was in full swing, the dance floor packed tighter than a subway car at rush hour. Despite the exhaustion, I’d outdone myself this time — if fairy lights and flowers could talk, they’d be singing my praises. Picture perfect, just like the bride wanted.
So why did I feel like I was one wobbly table away from disaster?
I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that had been creeping in all evening. Maybe this bug was getting worse? Or maybe it was karma catching up with me for surviving on coffee and granola bars for the past month.
Not that you had much success keeping those granola bars down.
I bit back a grimace at that reminder. Just the thought of food could set me off some days. It was so bad I’d started to lose weight. Something I would usually celebrate, but I just couldn’t shake the suspicion that something was deeply wrong.
I made my way across the room, clutching my clipboard like it was my lifeline. One second I was ‘fine.’ Yes, my head felt a little fuzzy, but I could walk in a straight line. The next the music got louder, the lights intensified, my vision streaked, and my stomach did a somersault that would’ve made an Olympic gymnast proud.
“Emma!” The bride’s voice cut through the noise. “There you are! I wanted to thank you again for everything. After all the chatter, I’ll admit I was worried, but it’s like you took a peek inside my brain and waved a wand. The day has been incredibly well organised. I had nothing to worry about.”
I turned, mustering up a smile. “I’m so glad you’re happy with everything. It’s been my pleasure to?—”
The room chose that moment to do its best impression of a tilt-a-whirl, and I stumbled, my trusty clipboard clattering to the floor. The bride’s face swam in front of me, morphing from joy to concern faster than you could say cold feet.
Why is she falling?
“Emma? Are you okay?”
I opened my mouth to reassure her, but my body had other plans. I hit the floor and the world went black, sending me into an unscheduled nap on the ballroom floor.
B eep. Beep. Beep.
My eyes opened and I immediately regretted it. Harsh fluorescent lights assaulted my retinas. Great. A hospital room. Because nothing says successful wedding planner like fainting at your own gig.
Panic surged through me. The wedding. I needed to get back. Who was handling the cake cutting? The first dance? A million details raced through my mind, each more urgent than the last.
“Ah, Ms Sullivan. You’re awake.” A man in a white coat stepped into the room, looking far too chipper for someone working in a place that smelled like disinfectant and despair. “I’m Dr Stevens. How are you feeling?”
“Like I just went ten rounds with a bottle of tequila, minus the fun part,” I croaked. “What happened?”
I glanced at the clock, mentally calculating how quickly I could get back to the venue.
Dr Stevens flipped through the chart in his hands, his expression turning serious. “You fainted at an event, Ms Sullivan. You were brought in with severe dehydration. Your electrolyte levels were dangerously low when you arrived.”
I’d been pushing myself too hard, surviving on coffee and sheer willpower. Dehydration made sense. Nothing a quick IV drip couldn’t fix, right? The doctor smiled sympathetically. “Yes, that’s consistent with what we’re seeing. It appears you’re suffering from a condition called hyperemesis gravidarum , which is?—”
His voice faded into background noise as I mentally drafted apology emails to the bride and groom. Maybe I could offer them a discount on their anniversary package to make up for this disaster. I’d have to work double-time to repair my reputation after this fiasco.
“—approximately ten weeks along.”
I blinked, scrambling to catch up. What the hell did that mean? “I’m sorry, what was that?”
The doctor paused, studying my confused face. “You’re pregnant. About ten weeks, based on our tests.”
The word ‘pregnant’ sliced through my mental fog like a knife, snapping me back to the present with dizzying force.
Pregnant? How could I be pregnant?
Surely I’d heard that wrong. Maybe I had a concussion?
“I’m sorry, did you say pregnant? As in, there’s a tiny human setting up shop in my uterus?”
His brow creased. “Yes?—”
“You have to be wrong.”
I couldn’t be pregnant. I was always careful. Always used condoms. Refused to sleep with anyone who so much as grimaced at the thought of using them.
“I’m afraid you are definitely pregnant.”
I winced as he uttered that word again. “How? I mean, I know how, but...” I covered my face as the enormity of it settled in. “Oh my god.”
Charlie.
Memories of our night together hit me like a freight train — his warm hands, the way he’d made me feel like the lead in my own rom-com. But we’d been careful. I mean, I wasn’t exactly new to the birds and the bees and we’d used a lot of condoms that night.
“You’re wrong. You have to be.” My voice rose and I didn’t even try to bite back the panic. “We used condoms. I can’t be pregnant. Are you sure you didn’t mix up my chart with someone else’s? Maybe there’s another Emma Sullivan who actually wants to be pregnant?”
Dr Stevens’s expression softened, probably practised from years of delivering bombshells to unsuspecting patients. “I understand this must be a shock, but I can assure you, the tests are conclusive. You are indeed pregnant. While condoms are generally very effective, they’re not 100% foolproof. There’s always a small chance of failure.”
I stared at him, scrambling for something, anything to disprove him. I couldn’t afford to be pregnant right now. Not with the state of my business. I counted back the weeks, pinpointing my last period.
No matter how I twisted the maths, the facts didn’t change.
The room shrank around me, until it was just me losing my mind and the patient but professionally caring doctor.
Pregnant.
With Charlie’s baby.
A man I’d spent one night with, then mutually parted ways with the next day. A man who lived thousands of miles away from New York and would never cross my social pathways on a normal day.
Dr Stevens cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him. “Ms Sullivan, I know this is a lot to process, but I do have some questions. Let’s take things one step at a time, okay?”
I nodded numbly, unable to form words.
“First, we’ll need to run some standard tests to ensure everything is progressing normally. I’d like to get an ultrasound to confirm the date of conception, and check for any potential complications.”
“Complications?” My voice cracked on the word.
“It’s just a precaution. Standard procedure for all pregnancies. We’ll also check for a fatal heartbeat and rule out multiple fetuses.”
“Now, while we wait for the nurse, I’d like to ask you a few questions about your family medical history. Do you know if there were any complications during your mother’s pregnancy with you?”
I frowned, caught off guard by the question. “I... I don’t know. My parents died when I was young. I never really asked about... that kind of thing.”
He nodded. “I see. And your extended family? Any history of pregnancy-related issues?”
I shook my head, a lump forming in my throat. “I don’t know much about my family’s medical history at all. Is that... is that bad?”
Would Aunt Ginny even know?
“Not at all. We’ll just need to monitor you a bit more closely, that’s all.” Dr Stevens made a note on his chart. “Now, let’s discuss your current condition. The hyperemesis gravidarum you’re experiencing is quite serious. We’ve given you a good dose of electrolytes, vitamins, and medication to help with the nausea.”
All I could do was stare at him. Words came out of his mouth, but none of them made sense to me. My hand drifted to my stomach, still flatter than any attempt at humour I could make right now. There was a life growing inside me. A tiny being, half me and half Charlie. Half organised perfectionist, half clumsy charmer. God help us all.
Just the idea of it was insane. There was another human being inside of me. Could it hear everything I said? Feel what I did? Did it care what I ate, and that’s why I hadn’t been able to keep most foods down for weeks?
“We’ll need to manage it carefully to ensure the health of both you and the baby.”
I nodded, still struggling to wrap my head around the word ‘baby’. “What exactly does that mean?”
“We need to address your dehydration and malnutrition before it develops further. The first step was getting some IV fluids and anti-nausea medication into you, but I’ll prescribe you additional medication to take home.” He checked his watch. “We’ve also run some additional tests, including checking your cortisol levels.”
Why did that word sound familiar and why did I think it was possibly the worst word that could have fallen from his lips?
“It’s a stress hormone,” he explained. “Your levels are significantly elevated, which can exacerbate your condition. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?”
I laughed humourlessly. “You could say that. I run my own business, and things have been... challenging.”
He nodded, his jaw tense. “I understand, but your cortisol levels, combined with the hyperemesis gravidarum, put you at high risk for complications. You’ll need to make some lifestyle changes until it clears.”
A knot formed in my stomach. “What kind of changes?”
“I'm recommending rest. At least for the next few weeks, possibly longer depending on how your condition progresses.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “Bed rest? But... I can’t. I have a business to run. I can’t plan weddings from bed!”
“I understand this is difficult, but your health and, if you want to carry to term, the health of your baby must come first. The elevated stress levels and severe morning sickness are putting both of you at risk.”
I shook my head, panic rising in my chest. “How long? A few days? A week?”
“At minimum, several weeks,” Dr Stevens said gently. “Possibly longer, depending on how you respond to treatment. In some cases, it clears up quickly but in others it can last throughout the pregnancy.”
“But my clients, my business…”
“I know this is a lot to process, but I cannot stress enough how crucial it is that you follow these recommendations. Your condition is serious. Without proper rest and care, you risk severe complications, including preterm labour or worse.” He stared at me, his gaze serious and unwavering. “There is another option, of course.”
He didn’t need to elaborate.
I always thought it would be black and white clear for me. If the timing or situation were wrong, I would have an abortion without a second thought.
I couldn’t imagine a worse situation than this.
Yet, I hesitated.
Pragmatically, I knew it would make my life easier. Still just the thought of it stabbed me in the chest and an irrational voice whispered in the back of my mind, urging me to protect this tiny being at all costs.
What on earth was I going to do?
“I’m not sure if I want to…” I chewed my lip while contradictory feelings overwhelmed me. “You know? I’m still shocked and I think I need to process everything.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” the doctor said. “You have a couple of weeks to make a decision.”
The gravity of his words sank in, and tears pricked at my eyes. “I understand,” I whispered. Maybe if I said it quietly enough, the universe would realise its mistake and hit the reset button on this whole mess.
But did I really understand? Nothing made sense.
How had I gotten pregnant if we used condoms? If I decided to keep it, how would I run a business while being unable to physically do my job? How could I get my reputation out of the toilet if I couldn’t do the weddings I had left?
“It’s hard to take in, I know.” A sympathetic smile played at the corners of his mouth. “If you decide to keep the baby, I do recommend reducing your stress levels. Maybe try not working for a bit and we can reassess your condition in a couple of weeks. You could get lucky and be perfectly fine for most of your pregnancy.”
“How long will I be here? Can I call my friend to pick me up?”
“We’ve run most of our tests. I just need an ultrasound and you’re good to go.” Dr Stevens handed me my phone from the bedside table. “The nurse will be in shortly to go over your care plan and schedule some follow-up appointments.”
As he left the room, I fumbled with my phone, my fingers shaking. I pulled up Lila’s number, praying she’d pick up and tell me this was all some elaborate prank. While I waited for her to answer, I sank back against the pillows and focused on my breathing. Anything to beat back the wave of panic trying to choke me.
“Hey!” Lila said, her voice as cheerful as ever. “How’s the wedding going? Knock their socks off as usual?”
The sound of her, so normal and comforting, broke something inside me. A sob escaped my lips before I could stop it. So much for my usual iron control.
“Emma?” Her tone immediately shifted to concern. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did the groom make a run for it? Because I swear, if I have to chase down another runaway groom?—”
My eyes locked onto a framed print on the wall — a generic watercolour of a lighthouse against a stormy sea. I focused on the brushstrokes, willing the image to ground me as my world tilted on its axis.
I took a shuddering breath. “I’m... I’m at the hospital.”
“What?!” Her voice rose. “Oh my god, what happened? Are you hurt? Do I need to come beat someone up? Because you know I will. I may be small, but I’m scrappy.”
Despite everything, a tiny smile tugged at my lips. Leave it to Lila to offer violence as a solution. I traced the outline of the lighthouse with my gaze, clinging to its solidity as I formed the words.
“I fainted at the wedding.” The words tumbled out as I filled her in, explaining how I’d been feeling weird for weeks. My focus darted between the painting’s crashing waves and serene sky, mirroring the chaos in my mind. “But that’s not... I’m pregnant.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. I could practically hear the gears turning in Lila’s head.
“Holy shit,” she finally breathed. “Are you sure? I mean, not that I’m doubting you, but... holy shit.”
I laughed, the sound edged with more hysteria than I’d like to admit. “Can you come get me?”
“Absolutely.” I could practically see her running her hand through her hair, a nervous habit she’d had since college. “Which hospital are you at? Do you need me to bring anything? Chocolate? A time machine? A large bottle of wine that you probably can’t drink?”
As I gave her the details, a wave of relief washed over me. Lila would know what to do. She always did. It was like her superpower, along with finding sample sales and always knowing which wine pairs best with a crisis.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said. “Just hang tight, okay? And try not to panic. Maybe this is a blessing?”
I snorted, the sound wrong, hollow. A blessing that might destroy the business I’d worked myself into the ground for years to establish.
That wasn’t quite right.
I mean it was the truth. Had I not been pregnant these last few weeks, I wouldn’t have thrown up at the wrong moment and I wouldn’t have struggled to stay awake on the job. My reputation wouldn't be in the toilet right now and my business in the red.
But the longer I sat with the news, the less it mattered.
Which in itself freaked me out even more.
That wasn’t like me at all. All I cared about was my career. It’s all I’d ever had.
But now, a tiny voice in my head whispered thoughts about soft baby skin and first smiles. I shook my head, trying to clear these unfamiliar, sentimental thoughts. This was ridiculous.
Yet... the image of holding a tiny hand, of teaching a little one how to tie shoelaces or ride a bike, kept creeping into my mind.
I ended the call and let my head fall back against the pillow, staring up at the stark white ceiling. The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the silence, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside me.
A life that was about to turn my carefully planned world upside down.
How had everything changed so quickly? Just this morning, my biggest concern had been making sure the wedding cake arrived on time.
It terrified me how quickly my priorities were shifting. The business I’d poured my heart and soul into for years suddenly felt... less important. Not unimportant, but no longer the centre of my universe. That centre was rapidly becoming occupied by the tiny life growing inside me.
I placed a hand on my stomach, a gesture that felt foreign yet oddly right. “Hey there, little one,” I whispered, feeling slightly foolish but unable to stop myself. “You’re certainly shaking things up, aren’t you?”
Charlie’s face flashed through my mind — his warm hazel eyes, the way his whole face lit up when he smiled. Would our baby have his eyes? His smile? His ability to charm the pants off anyone within a five-mile radius?
A jolt of panic rushed through me. How was I going to tell him? Should I tell him? Would he even want to know?
We’d both agreed it was just a one-night stand, and we’d stuck to that. No phone numbers were exchanged. I hadn’t looked him up on social media. The thought might have crossed my mind once or twice to ask Eva about him, since Abi had worked for him temporarily, but I’d held back, respecting our rules.
He probably wouldn’t want anything to do with this mess. He’d run for the hills faster than I could break the news.
But a small, traitorous part of me whispered that maybe, just maybe, he’d be happy about it. The way he’d looked at me that night, like I was the only person in the world...
I shook my head, banishing the thought.
It was ridiculous to even consider. Charlie lived in a completely different world — one of red carpets and celebrity clients. He wouldn’t want to be saddled with a baby and a wedding planner from New York.
This wasn’t a Hallmark movie, after all.
The door opened and a nurse bustled in, breaking me out of my spiralling thoughts. She set up the device and pulled back the blanket covering me. All I could do was stare at the old machine. As much as I had accepted the doctor at his word, that thing was about to blow up every denial I could hold on to.
“This might be a bit cold,” the nurse said as she squirted gel on my stomach. I flinched at the cool sensation, then held my breath as she pressed the wand against my skin.
For a moment, there was nothing but static on the screen. Then a grainy image appeared.
“There we are. See that little blob there? That’s your baby.”
I squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the fuzzy shapes. “That’s... that’s my baby?” My voice came out as a whisper.
“Indeed it is. Let’s see…” She moved the wand slightly. “Looks like you’re right on track for ten weeks. Good size, developing nicely.” She pointed out various features on the screen. “There’s the head, and those little nubs will become arms and legs.”
I stared at the screen, mesmerised. That tiny blob was my child.
“Now, let’s check for the heartbeat,” she said, flicking a switch on the machine.
The room filled with a rapid, rhythmic whooshing sound. My breath caught in my throat.
“Is that...?”
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat. Strong and steady, just as we like to see.”
The sound washed over me, drowning out everything else. In that moment, all my doubts, all my fears about my career and the future, they all melted away. Nothing else mattered but that tiny heartbeat.
Tears welled up in my eyes. “Oh,” I breathed, unable to form any other words.
“It’s something else, isn’t it?” She threw me a warm smile. “Now, let’s just double-check...parenting came from my aunt. yes, I’m only seeing one baby here. Sometimes twins can hide, but it looks like you’ve just got one little one in there.”
I nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak. One baby. My baby.
As the nurse finished up the ultrasound, wiping the gel off my stomach, a sense of calm settled over me. It all became crystal clear.
I was keeping this baby.
I didn’t know how I was going to manage my business, or what I’d tell Charlie, or how I’d handle being a single mom. But I knew, with absolute certainty, that I wanted this child.