Chapter 20
Better Man
? Trying - Jordan Davis
Angelina
I thought morning sickness was supposed to get better after the first trimester.
Mine has only gotten exponentially worse.
I’ve started keeping puke buckets everywhere just in case.
This morning was so bad, I had to call Doc out of early retirement to cover for me again.
I’m too tired and weak to get out of bed.
It’s the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that’s impossible to shake, and no amount of caffeine or rest will help.
Griffin has been sweet and attentive. His daily check-ins often lead to dinner and a movie at my place. I inevitably end up falling asleep on the couch, and he carries me to bed. He never stays, and I never ask.
Husband: How are you feeling?
Me: Awful. When did you change your name in my phone?
Husband: When you fell asleep watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding for the 100th time.
Husband: I’m coming over.
Me: Key is under the planter to the left.
Husband: You actually locked up?
Me: Someone kept threatening to spank me if I didn’t.
Husband: That’s my girl.
Sometime later, the sound of the front door closing wakes me. I throw back the covers and stand on shaky legs. The room spins, and I pinch my eyes closed to make it stop. Once everything comes back into focus, I shuffle down the hallway.
Griffin is at the kitchen island, unloading a large brown paper bag onto the surface. He pauses with a box of saltines in one hand and a bottle of ginger ale in the other. His forehead creases as he gives me a once-over.
“Yeah, I know. I look like shit.”
His lips tip into a small smile. “Never. But you do look very pale.” He pulls out a seat at the island. “Come sit down.”
I take a step toward him, and the dizziness returns. I hold out my hands to steady myself against the counter. Griffin’s there in an instant, pulling me against him with one arm.
“What the hell is going on, Angel?”
“I’m not sure. I just got dizzy all of a sudden.”
He slams the box of saltines onto the counter and lifts me into his arms. His masculine scent hits me full force. I want to burrow into him and take a nap.
Why am I so tired? Ugh. Pregnancy sucks.
Griffin deposits me on the sofa and walks away, coming back with my shoes and his pilfered hoodie. He kneels at my feet. “Lift.”
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you to the hospital.”
“What? Why?”
“You barely make it through the day without getting sick multiple times. Now you’re dizzy. You almost fell, Angel.” He slides a shoe onto one of my feet, then the next. “You aren’t going to argue with me?”
“Too tired. Don’t have it in me.”
He tugs the hoodie over my head and kisses my forehead. “Christ. That might be the worst symptom of all.”
Griffin
We wait in the emergency room for an hour before they call us back.
Angie relays all her symptoms, and they admit her a short while later.
After settling us in a room, they hook her up to several monitors and an IV.
We get to hear the baby’s heartbeat again, reassuring us all is well with the little tater tot—that’s what I’ve taken to calling the baby in my head. I’m not sure why. It just felt right.
I haven’t left Angie’s sight for a moment, taking up residence on an uncomfortable chair beside her hospital bed.
Ever since she stumbled into my arms, my stomach has been tied up in knots. I need to know they’re going to be okay. Nothing short of a goddamn hurricane could drag me away.
Doctor Patel stands at Angie’s bedside with a clipboard in hand. “Based on your symptoms, I believe you have a condition called hyperemesis gravidarum. It’s a fancy term for an extreme form of morning sickness that comes with some significant risks.”
Angie’s grip on my hand tightens, and she trembles.
My pulse picks up as every horrible possibility runs through my mind. “What kind of risks?”
“Severe dehydration, weight loss, and electrolyte imbalances are the primary concerns.” Her tone is practiced but gentle. “There is a risk of miscarriage if we don’t get your symptoms under control.”
Miscarriage.
Fear, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, rises like smoke from the pit of my stomach, coiling around me, clouding everything in the vicinity.
Doctor Patel is still speaking, but I’m only half listening.
Nothing else matters, not the past or present, not Tyler or anyone else. Only her. Only them.
I can’t lose them.
“Get some rest, Angelina. I’ll be back to check on you later.” Doctor Patel’s footsteps fade into the distance, and the door closes behind her.
Angie strokes my cheek. “Hey. Where did you go?”
I take her hand in mine and press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I’m so goddamn scared, Angel,” I choke out the words as my strength deserts me.
“We’re okay, Griff.” She opens her arms and beckons me to her. “Come here.”
I lie next to her on the bed, careful not to tug on any of the wires. I place my palm on her still soft belly, over the spot where a tiny heartbeat resides, and a wave of fierce protectiveness surges through me. I’d go to the ends of the earth to keep them safe and whole.
And mine.
“Thank you for being here,” she murmurs, stroking my hair languidly.
She’s comforting me when I should be the one doing the comforting, but I accept it in spite of myself.
“There’s no place I’d rather be.”
I take Angie’s hand in mine, studying her serene expression as she naps in her hospital bed, and my hatred for Tyler strengthens exponentially. We’ve been here for hours, and I’ve had plenty of time to let my anger fester.
How he could so carelessly cast them aside after three years together will never make sense. I’ve thought about it a lot over the last six weeks, and no amount of mental gymnastics can justify his silence. That’s his baby, and he has yet to acknowledge it.
I can’t let this slide.
Me: We need to talk.
Tyler: Where?
Me: Oak Ridge Memorial. Meet me in the lobby.
Tyler: Thumbs up emoji.
I swipe out of the text thread and tap on my mama’s contact. Her office is a block up the road, and knowing her, she’ll drop everything to be here. She picks up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hey. Are you still at the office?”
“I was just about to head home. What do you need?”
“Would you mind coming up to the hospital to sit with Angie? I have something I need to take care of, and I don’t want to leave her alone.”
I hear the sound of her keys jingling across the line, followed by a door slamming. “Is everything okay? The baby?”
“They’re both fine. I’ll explain when you get here.”
Mama arrives only minutes later. I explain the situation, and she takes my place at Angie’s side without hesitation.
I arrive in the lobby in time to see Tyler walking in through the massive sliding doors. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to punch him in the face. It would be more than justified; he deserves that and so much more.
“What am I doing here?”
“Do you know she’s pregnant?” I ask.
His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. And?”
“That’s your fucking kid. You don’t care?”
He huffs out an indignant breath. “Could be yours for all I know.”
His apathy grates on my very last nerve.
A real man would take responsibility, or at the very least acknowledge his role and step aside, not leave the woman he claimed to love in a state of uncertainty.
“It’s not. I fucking wish it were so I wouldn’t have to be here talking to you right now.
Did you even think to ask why we’re meeting at the goddamn hospital? ”
“She okay?”
“I don’t think you deserve the answer. You could’ve lost your baby today, Ty. Where the fuck have you been?”
He crosses his arms over his chest, taking a defiant stance. “Living my life. And that doesn’t have shit to do with you or her.”
My fists clench at my sides, ready to pummel him at the first opportunity. “You owe her an explanation. At the very least, tell her you don’t want anything to do with the baby so she can stop wondering. I’m stepping up for both of them. We don’t need you, but she needs closure.”
“Fine. Where is she?”
“Not here. Not now. I’ll let you know when she’s discharged, but the last thing she needs right now is to see your ugly face when she wakes up.”
“Fuck you.” He turns on his heel and strides toward the doors.
“Right back at you.”
When I return to Angie’s room, she’s sitting up in bed, smiling as my mom tucks the blankets tighter around her waist. It’s just like Evelyn Hayes to fuss over her like a mother hen.
At the side of her bed, sitting in a chair is Caroline Davis, with her husband Shawn standing sentry at her back.
There’s a large bouquet of sunflowers on a nearby table.
Angie must’ve called in reinforcements. It’s a testament to their character that they would drop everything to be here for her.
Jess would’ve been here in a heartbeat—I suspect that’s what drew them here, too.
All eyes turn to me as I stride into the room.
Shawn clamps a hand on my shoulder and gives me a thin-lipped smile and a nod. “Congratulations, son. Angie’s just told us the good news.”
Caroline’s hand squeezes mine. “So happy for you both.” Her eyes are full of unspoken emotion. “Jess would’ve been so happy to see you two together.”
“Took them long enough,” Mama says.
A well of sadness takes up residence on Angie’s face. I round the bed and sit on the edge near her feet, needing to be near her. My hand strays to her ankle. Mama tracks the movement, grinning as she pulls up a chair.
“How are you holding up?” Caroline asks. “Can we get you anything?”
“I’m okay. Much better than I was this morning.”
They fawn and fuss over her for another ten minutes before a knock sounds at the door, interrupting the conversation. Doctor Patel strides in, clipboard in hand. “Sorry to interrupt. I’d like to have a chat with my patient if you wouldn’t mind. I can come back in five minutes or so.”