Chapter 6
Jack
I arrived at Madison's hotel earlier than expected, having finished the morning site inspection ahead of schedule. The key card she'd given me slid smoothly into the lock, and I pushed open the door, expecting to find her resting after yesterday's treatment.
Instead, I found Madison in the middle of what looked like an intense workout routine.
She was wearing athletic leggings and a sports bra, her platinum blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail, sweat glistening on her skin as she moved through a series of burpees.
Her laptop was open on the desk, displaying what appeared to be a fitness video.
She spun around when she heard the door, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Jackie! You're early." She grabbed a towel from the bed, quickly wiping the sweat from her face. "I was just... the doctors said I needed to try to stay active. Exercise is supposed to help with the treatment side effects."
I stared at her, confused. Yesterday, she'd been too weak to walk to the bathroom without help. Now she was doing burpees with the energy of someone training for the Olympics.
"You look... really good," I said carefully. "Much stronger than yesterday."
"It comes and goes," she said quickly, pulling on an oversized hoodie that hid her athletic wear. "Some days are better than others. Today's been a good day so far."
Madison moved closer, her expression shifting to the vulnerable look I'd grown accustomed to over the past few weeks.
"I'm so glad you're here early," she said, reaching for my hand. "I was starting to feel scared again. You know how it is."
And just like that, the confident woman I'd glimpsed as I walked in disappeared, replaced by the fragile, dependent Madison who needed me for everything. The transformation was so complete that I wondered if I'd imagined what I'd seen.
"How are you feeling about today's appointment?" I asked, still trying to reconcile the two versions of Madison I'd just witnessed.
"Terrified," she whispered, and the fear in her voice seemed genuine enough. "What if the treatment isn't working? What if the cancer is spreading?"
We made our way to the hospital, Madison clinging to my arm like she could barely walk. As we waited for the elevator, an older woman with kind eyes smiled at us warmly.
"How long have you two been married?" she asked, her voice gentle with the familiarity of someone who'd spent too much time in hospitals.
I opened my mouth to correct her, but before I could speak, my phone rang. Pete's name flashed on the screen.
"I need to take this," I said to the woman, stepping slightly away. "What's up?"
"Jack, we've got another problem. The Miller job." Pete's voice was tight with frustration. "The client is threatening to cancel the contract. Something about delays and lack of communication."
"What kind of delays?"
"The permits you were supposed to file last week never got submitted. I've been trying to handle it, but Mrs. Miller specifically wants to speak with you. She's questioning whether we can complete the job on time."
I felt my stomach drop. The Miller job was a big contract, one we couldn't afford to lose. "I'll call her as soon as I can."
"Jack, I'm a foreman, not a business manager. I can't keep covering for you like this."
The elevator doors opened, and the older woman stepped in, but not before giving Madison's hand a gentle squeeze. "Take care of yourself, dear. And you," she looked at me with a meaningful expression, "take good care of your wife. She's lucky to have such a devoted husband."
I watched the elevator doors close, realizing I'd never corrected her assumption. Madison had heard the exchange too, and when I looked at her, I caught something in her expression – a small, satisfied smile that she quickly covered.
"Pete, I'll handle the Miller situation," I said into the phone. "Just give me a few hours."
"How many hours? Mrs. Miller wants answers today, and I'm running out of excuses for why the owner of the company is never available."
I looked at Madison, who was watching me with those green eyes that had always been able to see right through me. She looked so small, so vulnerable in her oversized hoodie.
"I'll be there this afternoon," I said finally.
"This afternoon might be too late."
I hung up and turned to Madison, who immediately reached for my hand. "Work problems?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
"Nothing I can't handle later."
We sat in the waiting area for what felt like hours. Madison dozed against my shoulder, and I found myself checking my phone repeatedly, watching messages from Pete pile up. Each one sounded more urgent than the last.
When Madison's name was finally called, she gripped my hand tightly. "Will you wait for me?" she asked, and I could hear genuine fear in her voice.
"Of course."
I watched her walk through the doors, noting that her step seemed steadier than it had been in weeks. Maybe the treatment was starting to work. Maybe she was getting stronger.
My phone buzzed with a text from Harper: Feeling some contractions. Lisa's here, but wanted to let you know.
I stared at the message, my heart rate spiking. Harper was now eight and a half months pregnant. Contractions could mean labor was starting. But she'd mentioned Lisa was there, and Harper had always been so independent, so capable of handling things on her own.
I typed back: Braxton Hicks? Keep me posted.
Another text from Pete: Miller job is falling apart. Need you here NOW.
I stood up, pacing the small waiting area. Madison was in treatment. Harper was having contractions, but she had her friend looking after her. Pete was dealing with a business crisis that could cost us thousands of dollars.
My phone rang. Harper's name on the screen.
I looked toward the treatment area doors, then at my phone. Madison had specifically asked me to wait for her. She'd been so scared, so dependent on my presence for her emotional stability. But Harper was potentially in labor with our daughter.
The phone stopped ringing.
Madison emerged from the treatment area just then, looking exhausted but somehow less fragile than when she'd gone in.
"How did it go?" I asked.
"Hard, but okay. The nurses said my numbers look good." She leaned against me as we walked to the elevator. "I'm so tired, Jackie. Can you stay with me at the hotel for a while?"
"I need to check on Harper. She was having contractions."
Madison's face immediately crumpled with concern. "Oh no. Is she okay? Is the baby okay?"
"Her friend's with her."
"But shouldn't you be there too? Jackie, if Harper's in labor...I'll be fine on my own."
I looked at Madison's pale face, the way she was swaying slightly on her feet.
Harper had Lisa, had support. If she was truly in labor, I had hours to get back.
Madison had no one but me right now. It would only take a few minutes to get her back to the hotel.
I could probably stay with her for an hour.
"Harper's in good hands," I said, the justification coming easily. "You need me more right now."
Relief flooded Madison's face. "Thank you. I know I'm being selfish, but I can't handle being alone after treatment. Everything feels so scary."
At the hotel, I helped Madison get settled, checking her temperature and making sure she was comfortable.
For a while, my phone had been a constant source of anxiety, buzzing with texts from Harper and urgent calls from Pete.
But now it had gone quiet. The sudden silence was a relief.
I figured it meant the crisis had passed.
Harper's contractions must have eased off, and Pete had likely handled whatever was happening at work.
With everything seemingly under control back home, I could focus on Madison.
She dozed fitfully, waking periodically to make sure I was still there.
"Don't leave me," she whispered during one of these moments. "Please don't leave me alone."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
It was nearly eleven o'clock when I finally got home. The house was dark except for a light in our bedroom. I found Harper lying on her side, her hand resting on her belly, staring at the ceiling.
"Hey," I said softly. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine. False alarm." Her voice was flat, emotionless. "Braxton Hicks, like you said."
"I'm sorry I wasn't here."
"You should have called me," Harper said, not looking at me.
"I texted back. I said it was probably Braxton Hicks, which it was. Nothing to be worried about."
Harper turned to face me then, and I saw something in her eyes I'd never seen before. Not anger, exactly, but something harder. Disappointment mixed with resignation.
"What if it was something to be worried about, Jack? I called you. Multiple times. I texted you over and over. You never answered. You never replied."
I frowned, pulling out my phone, convinced she was exaggerating.
My stomach seized as the screen lit up. A wall of notifications. Seven missed calls from Harper. A dozen texts. Voicemails. All timestamped during the hours I'd been sitting in Madison's hotel room. The silence hadn't been a reprieve; it had been a lie.
"My phone… it was on silent," I said weakly, the excuse sounding pathetic even to my own ears.
A memory surfaced, hazy at first, then sharp and clear.
Madison, just before she'd settled down to rest, asking to see pictures of our house, of me and Harper.
I'd handed her my phone. She must have swiped it to silent while she was scrolling through the photos.
"I'm sorry," I stammered, trying to explain. "Madison must have turned the ringer off while she was looking at pictures. She was so exhausted after her treatment, I guess she just wanted to make sure she could rest without being disturbed..." My voice trailed off as I heard how flimsy it sounded.
Harper stared at me for a long, silent moment. Her expression was unreadable. "She silenced your phone," she stated, her voice dangerously quiet. "And you didn't notice. At all. Even though you knew I might have been having our baby."
The quiet accusation cut deeper than any shout could have. Put that way, it sounded inexcusable. Negligent. Utterly wrong. "Harps, I didn't know—"
"You didn't know because you didn't answer your phone," she interrupted, her voice flat. "For three hours, Jack, I was at the hospital, thinking our daughter might be coming early, and I couldn't reach my husband because he was taking care of his ex-girlfriend."
I sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of what I'd done settling on my shoulders. Harper had been scared, potentially in labor, and I'd been completely unreachable because I'd prioritized Madison's comfort over my wife's needs.
"Who drove you to the hospital?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Sam. I called him when I couldn't reach you. He took me and Lisa to the hospital."
Sam. Again. While I'd been promising Madison I wouldn't leave her alone, my wife had been calling Sam because she couldn't depend on her husband to be there when she needed him.
"Harps, I'm so sorry. I should have been there."
"Yes, you should have." Her voice was quiet, tired. "Lisa had to go, so Sam sat with me for hours, Jack. He held my hand during the monitoring, talked to the doctors, made sure I was okay. He did all the things you should have been doing."
The guilt was overwhelming. I'd missed what could have been the birth of our daughter because I'd been too focused on Madison to even check my phone. I'd left my pregnant wife to rely on my best friend while I held another woman's hand.
"Is the baby okay?" I asked.
"She's fine. But Jack..." Harper turned to look at me fully, and I could see tears in her eyes. "I needed you today. Not Sam, not Lisa. You. And you weren't there."
"I'm here now."
"Are you? Because even sitting here, talking to me, I can see you checking your phone."
I dropped my phone. "I'm trying to balance everything," I said weakly.
"Balance? Jack, when was the last time you came to one of my doctor's appointments? When was the last time we talked about baby names, or finished setting up the nursery, or just had dinner together without you rushing off to handle one of Madison's crises?"
I opened my mouth to answer and realized I couldn't. It had been weeks since I'd been fully present for any of those things. Every conversation about the baby since our anniversary dinner had been interrupted by Madison's needs. Every plan we'd made had been canceled for one of her emergencies.
"She has cancer, Harps."
"And I'm having your baby. Our baby. But, apparently, that's not enough to keep your attention."
The words hung between us, and I could see Harper waiting for me to say something, to reassure her, to promise that things would change.
"I'm doing the best I can," I said finally.
Harper stared at me for a long moment, then turned away. "I know you are, Jack. That's what makes this so hard."
I lay down beside her, reaching for her hand, but she pulled it away gently. Not angrily, just... distant.
"Harps?"
"I'm tired, Jack. Really tired. Can we just... not talk anymore tonight?"
I wanted to say more, wanted to fix this somehow, but I could see the exhaustion in every line of her body. My wife, eight and a half months pregnant, who'd spent the day thinking she might be in labor, who'd been unable to reach me during what could have been the birth of our child.
As I lay there in the dark, listening to Harper's breathing slowly even out, I felt the full weight of what I'd done. I'd missed what could have been the most important moment of our lives because I'd been too focused on someone else to even look at my phone.
But even as the guilt consumed me, I couldn't shake the image of Madison's face when she'd asked me not to leave her alone. The fear in her eyes, the way she'd gripped my hand like I was the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.
I'd made a promise to her years ago, and I'd keep it. But in doing so, I'd broken a much more important promise to the woman lying beside me. The worst part was that I still didn't know how to fix it. Madison needed me. Harper needed me. Our daughter would be here soon, and she'd need me too.
It should have been a wake-up call.