Chapter Eleven
Brooke
I get dressed slowly, wincing as I tug the shirt over my head. My body still feels heavy, not from the fall, not even from the hospital monitors or the hours of panic, but from everything that’s suddenly weighing on me.
Matthew’s down the hall, checking on the discharge paperwork, and for the first time since the doctor talked to us, I’m alone with my thoughts.
Our baby is okay.
I repeat it over and over in my head like a prayer. She’s okay. Strong heartbeat. Moving. Perfect. And I’m so, so fucking grateful, I don’t think I’ve ever been this grateful for anything in my entire life.
But underneath the relief, guilt creeps in, sticky and relentless.
Because all I can think about is how much money I just spent in one afternoon. How much deeper I probably dug us into a hole we were already struggling to climb out of.
I panicked. Of course I did. I don’t regret it for a second, I’d do it all over again and I’m sure insurance will cover some of it… but not all.
And now I’m out of a job.
My benefits were garbage to begin with, and I doubt the airline’s going to keep me on payroll while I’m out of commission for the better part of a year. And even if they did, the maternity coverage barely scratches the surface.
I shake my head, angry at myself. I didn’t pay much attention to any of that when I was hired. I was too busy dreaming about international routes, picturing myself in Paris or Tokyo, not sitting here terrified about hospital bills and lost income.
Matthew told me he’d take care of it, he’ll take care of me but I don’t want that.
I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on him.
Not when the debt is mine. And I’m not even talking about the hospital bills.
No, I mean the credit cards. The stupid, impulsive choices I made that still follow me every month.
If I had been stupid enough to buy shit, I could resell them but no I chose experience, once in a lifetime experience that I can’t even resell.
There’s still a significant balance left, a mountain I built swipe by swipe.
This mess… it’s mine. I made these choices. I swiped those cards.
And this, this is the part no one tells you about. The gut-wrenching, hollow feeling of being useless.
Yes, I’m bringing life into the world. Yes, I’m creating a miracle. But women have been doing that and working for centuries.
God, Matthew’s mom worked until the day she went into labour. And here I am, not even five months along, sitting on the edge of a hospital bed and feeling like a failure. Like I’ve already fallen behind before the hardest part has even started.
There’s a soft knock on the door. I look up, expecting Matthew, but it’s not him.
It’s Chloe.
I start to push off the side of the bed, but she lifts a hand. “Sit,” she says gently. “Are you alright? Matthew called me.”
“He… called you?” I ask, surprised.
She nods, stepping into the room, her heels clicking softly against the floor. “He just wanted his mom.”
I nod slowly, my chest tightening at that. “Of course he did.” I press a palm to my stomach, rubbing small circles over the curve beneath my shirt. “Well… the baby’s okay. She’s safe.”
It’s true, I’ve felt her move since the fall. They’ve been the same flutters. Still there. Still alive.
“Thank God,” Chloe murmurs, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “How did you manage to fall?”
“The tire blew when we were taxiing,” I say, a little sharper than I intend. “I was helping a passenger and I fell.”
Chloe’s brows knit together. “Well, that’s… unfortunate. How will you work?”
I swallow, the defensive edge creeping back in. “The doctor told me not to. We can’t risk another fall.”
She gives me a small, polite smile. “Of course. So, you’re on bedrest.”
“Not bedrest,” I correct quickly, shaking my head. “Just… taking it easy.”
“Right,” she says softly. But there’s something in her tone, light on the surface, razor-edged underneath, that makes me shift uncomfortably against the sheets.
“You take it easy while my son takes care of you,” she adds, the words perfectly polite, the smile perfectly placed. But I can hear what’s really underneath them.
I just sit there, cheeks burning, wishing I hadn’t already changed out of the hospital gown so I’d have an excuse to disappear into the bathroom.
Instead, we stay in this awful silence, me staring at the floor, and her standing there with her arms crossed, watching me like I’m a puzzle she hasn’t quite decided how to solve.
The door swings open.
“So,” Matthew says, glancing down at some papers in his hands, “we have a follow-up appointment on-” He stops dead when he sees her. “Ma,” he breathes, surprise softening his voice. He stops beside her and pulls her into a hug. “When did you get here?”
Her smile this time is real, brightening her whole face. “I just wanted to make sure my grandbaby is alright.”
“Granddaughter,” Matthew corrects gently, glancing back at me with a small, proud smile.
Chloe presses a hand to her chest, her eyes going wide. “A girl? Oh my God.” She hugs him again, tighter this time, a soft laugh escaping her.
I watch them from the bed, feeling small for doubting her joy. I try to read her expression, to make sense of the sudden warmth in her face and the way her voice wavers with excitement.
I want to believe it’s real, that this joy isn’t just another performance for her son’s sake.
It has to be real. Right?
Matthew turns to me with a grin so wide it nearly splits his face. He tried to hide it, but I know the fight with his mom made him miserable.
“I wanted to apologize to you too, baby,” Chloe says suddenly, her tone softer now.
Too? I don’t remember being apologized to.
“I shouldn’t have let my shock make me react that way,” she goes on. “It’s not every day you find out your only child got married without you.”
Matthew’s smile falters. He looks down, guilt shadowing his features. “I’m sorry, Ma. I wanted you there too. It was just… so sudden. Brooke’s sister couldn’t even come, and she lives in New Jersey.”
Chloe exhales through her nose, her lips pressing into something between a sigh and a hum. “Well, that’s done now.”
Matthew glances at me, searching my face. Ready?
I nod, and he straightens. “I’ll get the wheelchair.”
I watch him walk out, wishing I could follow, wishing I didn’t have to sit here in this thick, uneasy quiet with her.
Turning to Chloe, I manage softly, “Matthew really wanted you there. I did too.”
Her gaze snaps to mine, sharp and assessing. And then she says it, low and cool: “You may have my son fooled. But I see you.”
I just stare at her, trying to wrap my head around how someone can be this two-faced, all soft smiles and apologies one second, and cold, cutting words the next.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, her voice calm and deliberate, like it’s a warning.
I feel my own lips curl into a smile, one that has nothing to do with kindness. I’ve been biting my tongue for Matthew’s sake, trying to be the bigger person, the mature one. But screw that.
“Neither am I,” I say evenly, meeting her gaze without blinking.
The door swings open again and Matthew steps back in, pushing a wheelchair, an older nurse trailing behind him.
“Everything okay in here?” he asks, glancing between us.
“Peachy,” I say, keeping my eyes locked on Chloe as the word drips with sugar-coated sarcasm.
She doesn’t flinch. Neither do I.
Game on, bitch.
Matthew
Ma drives us home in her Tesla. I know how to drive, but owning a car in New York just feels like a hassle, the parking fees alone are enough to make me break out in hives. I guess that’s another expense we’ll have to think about now, with a baby on the way.
Brooke’s in the backseat. I offered her the front, but she said she wanted the space to fold her legs. I reach my hand back between the driver’s seat and mine, and a moment later I feel warm fingers slip into mine. I smile.
“So,” Ma says, eyes on the road. “How’s work?”
“It’s fine,” I answer.
Brooke gives my hand a gentle squeeze before slipping hers away, and I straighten in my seat.
“Who proposed to who?” Ma asks suddenly.
I shrug. “I think I did. Right, babe?” I glance back at her.
“You asked the question,” she says, smirking. “I laid the groundwork.”
I laugh, the memory bubbling up easily.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ma asks.
“Well,” I start, “we had our first prenatal appointment, and the receptionist asked if we wanted to use it then. Brooke was confused and asked what the hell she meant and that’s when we found out her insurance only covers a certain number of appointments.”
“Like insurance companies should decide anything about a woman’s health,” Brooke mutters from the back seat.
“I agree,” I say. “Anyway, my wife” I can’t help smiling as I say the word, “yelled at the insurance company. And while she was busy making spreadsheets about how much we’d have to pay out of pocket, I just said, ‘Or… we could get married.’”
I glance back at her again. “I knew my insurance covers prenatal care for a spouse; it’s just a matter of using doctors approved by them.”
“They really gave the man good prenatal care,” Brooke teases.
I grin, looking back between the seats. “I’m just happy it got you to marry me.”
She smiles cheekily. “I might’ve married you without it.”
“Ah,” I say, grinning.
“Ah,” she echoes.
Ma hums thoughtfully. “So, it’s a marriage of convenience.”
I frown, confused. “No… it’s a marriage of love that just happened to be expedited because of-”
“-convenience,” Brooke finishes for me.
I tilt my head and let out a small laugh.
“So, Brooke,” Ma says after a pause, glancing at her in the rearview mirror, “what do your parents think about the wedding? Or were they there?”
“Ma,” I say quietly, my smile fading. “I told you… her parents passed.”
Ma’s brow furrows as if she’s trying to recall a conversation, then her eyes widen slightly. “Oh. You’re the one whose father kill-”
“Ma.” My voice is sharper this time, cutting through her sentence before it can finish.
The car goes silent. Brooke looks out the window, jaw tight, and my chest tightens with guilt.
I twist around in my seat to face her. “I told her because I wanted her help,” I explain, my voice softer now. “I thought she could help with… not intruding. She’s usually good at this stuff.”
I shoot Ma a look, one that makes it clear she’s crossed a line.
She just shrugs, murmuring, “Sorry,” as if that could undo the sting of her words.
We’re quiet for the rest of the ride. The silence hangs heavy between the three of us, none of us quite knowing what to say after what happened.
Ma pulls up in front of our building and lets Brooke and me out before heading off to find a parking spot, since I don’t have an assigned one.
I slip an arm around Brooke as we climb the steps. She pretends she doesn’t need the help, but she lets me do it anyway.
At the elevator, I press the button and glance over at her. “I’m sorry about Ma,” I say quietly. “I never thought she’d… you know.”
Brooke rests a hand gently on my forearm. “It’s okay. You probably never thought we’d be here.” She rubs her stomach, and her lips curve into a small, tired smile.
“I hoped,” I admit.
Her smile softens a little more, then she exhales. “I’m actually pretty tired. I don’t think I can stay awake for dinner.”
Concern pulls at my chest. “Well, the doctor did say to rest. I can cancel.” I’m already pulling out my phone when she stops me with a gentle touch.
“Wait. Don’t cancel on your mom,” she says. “Go out for dinner. I’ll just nap.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” I protest.
“I’m fine,” she says, smiling faintly. “Besides, with me not working for a while, I’m going to be alone a lot. Might as well get used to it.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yes,” she nods, certain this time. “Go.”