Chapter 49
Addison
When the cab dropped me off at a subway station a few blocks away, I walked down the stairs, still shaking from seeing Daniel at the doctor’s office.
I couldn’t afford a cab ride back to Brooklyn, but it was the quickest getaway I could find to escape him.
Part of me wanted to stay. To hear all the excuses he would muster up and the sweet words he was so smooth at delivering.
But the other part of me doubted everything, and it caused me to flee.
I had heard him say he never wanted to be a father with such confidence, and while he had an excuse to say it, it sounded all too convincing.
And then there was Kiera. I had seen the photos.
I had read the tabloids. I had done a deep dive into their relationship when I was suffering from pregnancy insomnia the other night.
It was stupid, really. I supposed I just wanted to torture myself more.
She had been his only real relationship in recent years, and that said something right there.
There must have been something special about her for him to commit to her for those couple of years.
I looked through all the press photos. All the paparazzi photos.
She looked like a damn supermodel in every single one, even the caught off guard ones.
And he looked like a GQ model right next to her.
They looked perfect together. It was no wonder the public was rooting for them.
I realized as I scrolled through the photos that I would never fit into his world. As if I didn’t know before. What I realized even more was that a baby would never fit into his world. It was a harsh realization to have at three in the morning when the baby was doing somersaults in my stomach.
Then to see him today, looking every bit his best self in a custom suit that hugged him just right and those damn icy blue eyes boring into me as he realized I had lied straight to his face.
It was too much. I started to cry right there on the subway steps, people busily passing by me and too concerned with their next destination to care about the crying pregnant woman.
I didn’t care. I didn’t want anyone to notice me as I grieved all that could have been with the man I had once again left on the sidewalk.
The driver had looked concerned in the rearview mirror, which was all I could look at as Daniel ran after the cab, his hand against the window.
I felt bad for leaving him in such a state of desperation, but I had to.
I thought about his muffled voice through the window, yelling my name. The name that I only ever let people close to me call me. He had once been that person, but now the word “Heart” sounded so sad on his tongue. It made me cry even more.
The stairs were getting more crowded as people walked up and down them, bumping into me as they went.
I had to get moving. I wiped my tears away and took a step down toward the platform.
Suddenly I felt unsteady on my feet. I reached for the railing to steady myself.
The stairs in front of me looked as though they were warped, moving in and out. People moved in swift blurs around me.
I gripped the railing tightly and blinked a few times, trying to get my focus back, but it was no use. My legs felt weak underneath me, as if I had been sitting on them for hours and now they had fallen asleep. I let out a little gasp as I slid to the floor.
People were starting to notice me now. I wasn’t just some emotional pregnant woman. I was in trouble. I felt dizzy and out of breath.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” asked a man in a business suit, crouching down next to me.
“I-I don’t know,” I stammered, still gripping the railing as if it were the only thing holding me here on this planet.
“Can we get some help over here?” he yelled over his shoulder.
I didn’t want to make a scene.
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” I said, trying to get to my feet and failing.
“You stay right there,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.
“I need some help,” he called again.
A woman came down and crouched next to him, looking at me worriedly. She looked like she was a server at the nearby 50s themed diner. This must have looked like quite a scene to everyone around us. Like something out of a movie.
“How far along are you, honey?” she asked.
“Seven months,” I said.
“Are you having contractions?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I just feel…”
I then keeled over and threw up right between the two of them. They both quickly jumped away before looking at each other worriedly.
“We’re going to get you to a hospital,” said the woman. “Help me lift her.”
The man and the woman wrapped their hands under my arms and hoisted me to my feet, guiding my arms around their shoulders.
We walked up the few steps back to the sidewalk, and the man quickly hailed a cab.
They both helped me inside, the woman following in behind me.
The man checked his watch and looked slightly perplexed.
“I can take her from here,” said the woman assuredly.
He nodded and gave a little wave as she closed the door behind her.
“Please take us to the nearest hospital,” said the woman urgently.
I felt like I was having déjà vu from my last trip to the hospital after I flew home from Pittsburgh, except this time I wasn’t having contractions.
I just couldn’t catch my bearings. Everything seemed to be blurring in and out, and breathing felt like a task on a to-do list that I couldn’t quite check off no matter how hard I tried to get to it.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” asked the woman.
She was probably old enough to be my mother.
“Addison,” I replied, holding my belly woozily. “You?”
“Sandra. You’re going to be just fine, Addison,” she said, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze.
“Thank you, Sandra. Can you call my friend? Her name is Monica,” I said, reaching for my purse.
“I’ll get that for you,” she said. “You just rest.”
She reached over and grabbed my purse for me, searching for my phone. I quickly typed in my password for her and she scrolled through my contacts to Monica’s name. I closed my eyes as the cab weaved through the traffic of Manhattan.
“Hi, Monica?” asked Sandra.
She waited for a reply.
“Yes, this is Sandra. I’m with your friend Addison. We are on our way to the hospital. Can you meet us there?”
There was a brief silence as Sandra listened. I could hear Monica’s frantic voice on the other line.
“No, no. Everything is fine. I think she’s just a little out of sorts, but I think it’s best she see a doctor.”
Sandra gave me a reassuring smile.
“Yes, yes. I’ll text you the hospital once we get there.”
She hung up.
“Thank you,” I said. My mouth felt dry and tasted sour from throwing up.
Ten minutes later, we were pulling up to the hospital. Sandra paid the cab driver, even though I protested. She waved me off and walked me inside.
“I’ll text your friend which hospital we ended up at,” she said as we walked to the front desk.
Sandra explained what had happened and the nurse brought over a wheelchair, helping me sit down.
“We are going to take her up to triage and get her check out,” said the nurse.
I looked up at Sandra gratefully. “Thank you so much. Please let me repay you for your kindness,” I said.
She waved me off. “Oh please, sugar. I believe in paying it forward. You just get better, okay? For you and that precious baby.”
I nodded, feeling teary-eyed.
“I better get going. My shift starts soon.” She bent down and gave me a quick hug before walking toward the door.
The nurse wheeled me toward the elevators and we rode up to triage, where she found me a room.
She helped me into a hospital gown and got me settled in a bed where she hooked me up to the machines.
The same one as last time, although I wasn’t having contractions.
She brought me some water and said she would be back.
I lay back in the bed and closed my eyes. I must have dozed off because I soon woke up to a knock at the door. Monica quickly strode in and her eyes took me in, a worried expression on her face.
“You have to stop doing this to me,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what happened. I ran into Daniel and then it was like my body went into some sort of shock.”
“Excuse me? Daniel?”
“He was at the OB office to meet his friend. I literally ran right into him and then he saw all this.” I motioned to my belly.
“Jesus, Heart.”
“I know,” I said softly.
“What a mess. This is exactly what the doctor told you to avoid. All this stress isn’t good for you.”
“Clearly,” I said, gesturing to the machines and my hospital gown.
Monica took a seat beside me and reached for my hand. We sat there and I told her everything that had happened with Daniel. How I had to tell him the truth and how he had run after the cab.
“Girl, you’re like a walking, talking book just waiting to be written,” she said, wide-eyed.
“Tell me about it,” I muttered.
“Which, by the way, there’s something I want to talk to you about…”
There was a knock at the door and the doctor walked in.
“Hello, I’m Doctor Patel. I realize we don’t have any intake information for you yet, but I will have some sent up. What’s your name, miss?”
“Addison Heartly.”
“And you are…” She eyed my belly. “Seven months pregnant?”
“Yes. Just over,” I said in amazement.
She nodded knowingly.
“It looks like your blood pressure took quite a drastic drop leading to a dizzy spell and the nausea. Have you eaten enough today?”
“Yes, plenty,” I said, before listing off everything I ate.
“Good. And how are your stress levels?”
Monica gave me a pointed look.
“Not so good lately,” I admitted.
“It’s not the first time she’s been in the hospital, doc,” said Monica, crossing her arms.
“I see,” said Doctor Patel. “Well, I’m sure your doctor has already told you, but this stress is not good for you, and especially not good for the baby. You need to get it under control.”
“Yes, doctor.”
“I’d like to keep you here overnight just to be sure everything is okay.”
“Okay,” I said softly.
I felt guilty for the craziness of my life because of how it could be potentially harming the baby. It wasn’t like I asked to lose my job or run into Daniel, but I couldn’t help but feel like everything was my fault.
The doctor gave me a reassuring smile before slipping out of the room.
“Heart…” started Monica.
“I know, okay?” I said, my eyes watering.
I didn’t need another lecture when I was already feeling bad enough.
“Okay.” She put her hands up and backed off.
We stayed silent for a few moments.
“What were you wanting to talk to me about?” I asked, remembering our conversation from before.
“Well…I kinda started writing a book that’s loosely based on your life lately…”
I sat up in the hospital bed and looked at her curiously.
“Please don’t be mad,” she blurted out.
I laughed. “I’m not mad. I want to hear some of it.”
“Well, lucky for you”—Monica leaned over and pulled out her laptop out of her bag—“I have some of it right here.”
I settled back in the bed and she began reading the first few chapters. I closed my eyes and listened to her storytelling, which made my life sound so much more magical than it really was. She really knew how to write.
When she was done reading, I opened my eyes and looked at her.
“How does it end?” I asked softly.
“I’m still waiting to find out.” Monica winked.