Mehar
“Where have you been?” I asked Quest when he walked through the NICU doors a little after one.
I’d been at the hospital since the morning, sitting with Aziza, holding her when the nurses gave me the green light.
Just me and my baby and the quiet beeping of her monitors while I waited for her daddy to show up.
Yesterday Justice had come by the hotel to check on me and I appreciated that more than he probably knew. But Justice wasn’t Quest. He wasn’t the one I fell asleep reaching for on the other side of the bed.
“I had to handle something with this war. I promised you on that island I was going to get the people that did this to us.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’m sorry, Peach. But I’m here now.”
I wanted to be upset with him but the truth was I was more worried than anything.
Something had been sitting behind his eyes for days now and I couldn’t figure out what it was.
Every time I asked he gave me the same answer, the war, the Rios, stress.
And maybe that was all it was. Maybe I was reading into things because my nerves were shot and my body was still healing and I hadn’t slept through the night since before the island.
But my gut kept telling me there was more.
Something he was carrying that he wasn’t letting me help with.
I let it go for now because our daughter was right there and she deserved both her parents’ full attention.
We took turns with her. Quest held her against his chest and I watched his whole demeanor shift the way it always did when Aziza was on his skin.
Whatever he was dealing with out there, in here he was just her father.
Present, gentle and completely locked in.
I loved seeing him like that. It reminded me why I chose him, why I survived for him, why none of the hard stuff mattered when I watched his face soften for our girl.
What worried me was what I’d been reading about preemies born under stress.
The articles about potential delays, developmental setbacks, things that might not show up for months or even years.
I hadn’t brought it up to Quest yet because I didn’t want to add to what he was already carrying.
But it lived in the back of my mind every time I held her, every time I studied her little movements, every time I wondered if the island and the hurricane had left marks on her that we couldn’t see yet.
Whatever came, we’d handle it. She was ours and we’d give her everything she needed. But the Rios family had put us here. They’d damaged our daughter’s start in life before she even had a chance to begin it. I’d never forgive that.
“How’s the war coming?” I asked while he rocked her.
“We got one more thing to handle. After that, I’m all yours. I’m all hers. No more disappearing.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, Peach.”
I believed him because I needed to. And because despite whatever he was holding back, Quest had never broken a promise to me. Not on the island, not in the hospital, not once.
· · ·
We spent the rest of the afternoon at the hospital together.
When Aziza was sleeping we sat in the family lounge and talked about things that had nothing to do with war or surgery or monitors.
He told me about Serenity’s case looking better and how Sarai was thriving.
I told him I’d been FaceTiming Zainab every day and that the twins were driving everybody at the safe house crazy.
We laughed about Riot’s security guys eating all the food within forty-eight hours. For a few hours it felt like us again.
He brought me back to the hotel around seven.
We ordered food and ate on the couch and I leaned into him while some reality show played on the TV.
His arm was around me, his hand resting on my hip, and I closed my eyes and breathed him in.
For one hour none of it existed. No war, no NICU, no guards outside the door. Just us being still together.
Then his phone went off and the stillness broke.
“I gotta go meet with the guys. We got the last act of war tonight,” he said, standing up. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Early, but I’ll be here.”
“Quest.”
He looked down at me.
“Promise me you’ll come back.”
He sat back down and took my face in his hands. Kissed me slow and deep. The feel of his lips pressed against mine while his tongue searched to soothe me made me forget every question I was about to ask. When he pulled back his eyes were locked on mine.
“I will always come back to you. Always.”
He left and the suite went quiet. I sat on the couch replaying the way he said it, trying to figure out why the word always sounded heavier than it should have.
· · ·
I was about to shower when someone knocked on the door. I checked the peephole and saw Jason, one of our security guys, holding a small package.
“This was delivered to the front desk for Mr. Banks,” he said, handing it to me. “Figured I’d bring it up.”
“Thanks, Jason.”
I closed the door and looked at it. It was a small brown box in plain packaging, Quest’s name on the label. No logo, just a return address I didn’t recognize. I almost set it on the counter to wait for him.
Almost.
I opened it.
Inside was a smaller box that was white with blue text. I read the label. Wait. What the fuck?! I had to read it again because the first time my brain wouldn’t let the words connect to meaning.
Home DNA Paternity Test Kit.
Ordered by Quest Banks.
Everything stopped. The hotel room, the hum of the air conditioner, the sound of my own breathing. All of it just stopped while I stood there holding a box that told me my fiancé had looked at our daughter and questioned whether she was his.
This was it. This was what he’d been carrying.
The distance, the closed-off look, the something I couldn’t name for days.
It wasn’t just the war. He looked at Aziza’s eyes, those beautiful blue-green eyes, and instead of seeing a miracle he saw a question mark.
Instead of trusting me, the woman who almost died on an operating table bringing his child into the world, he went online and ordered a test.
After the island. After the hurricane. After I lost my uterus giving him the only child I would ever carry.
The box sat in my hands and I couldn’t move.