Chapter 30
If I see one more nurse hem and haw, like we’re a major inconvenience, I’m going to punch through a wall. With my fists bunched at my sides, I try to maintain composure as I walk to the nurse’s station in the emergency room.
There are only three patients admitted. I’ve seen at least a dozen nurses sitting around, waiting. And I haven’t seen a damn doctor in the past four hours that we’ve been here.
The ER isn’t jam-packed. There’s no one with bullet wounds or in danger of losing a limb. So there’s no reason they should have us trapped in a patient room for this long. The rooms are glass boxes with no privacy except for the heinous green curtains. It’s drafty and the television cable is out. There’s no cell service. All Amani and I have for entertainment is the gossiping nurses and nurse assistants who don’t seem to realize their voices carry.
I tried to make jokes as a distraction, but the amount of effort it took for Amani to fake laugh wasn’t worth it. Here she is, going through her personal version of hell, and she’s trying to make me feel better.
It’s ridiculous. I just want to take her home.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
“Yes, sir? Do you need help?” A new, chipper-looking nurse looks up from her computer. There must’ve been a shift change because she’s not acting disgruntled at all and has fresh energy. The other nurses seemed like they worked a triple and rolled their eyes every time I approached.
“They took my girlfriend’s vitals and drew her blood three hours ago. They said they’d be back within an hour. We think she’s miscarrying. No one has been by for a very long time. She’s scared and freezing in there. Where is the doctor?”
She twists her lips. “Sometimes the lab takes longer than we’d like. Dr. Tubbman is likely waiting on the results. Is she in pain? Is there anything we can do to make her more comfortable?”
I exhale and shake my head. “She mentioned mild cramping. But she can’t take anything until we get news about the baby.”
The blond nurse rolls her chair backward, then stands. She rubs her bare arms before grabbing her jacket slung around the back of her chair and puts it on. “It is freezing in here. Come on.” She gestures for me to follow. After leading me down the hallway, past the ice machine and the men’s room, she enters what looks like a small closet.
“Help yourself,” the nurse says as she opens the door and reveals a giant blanket warmer with neat stacks of towels, blankets, and pillows. “I’ll leave this unlocked for you so you can grab her whatever she needs without having to wait in case we’re with other patients.”
“Thank you,” I force myself to say. She smiles and turns around before I call her back. “Excuse me.”
“Yes?” she says, sincerity painted all over her face. And now I feel like an ass for what I’m about to say, but I’m at the end of my rope.
“We’ve been here all night. We’ve mentioned several times that the room is frigid. My girlfriend is in that paper-thin hospital gown that you guys said she had to wear. Why are you the first nurse to offer a heated blanket?”
She tilts her head to the side. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I just got here about forty-five minutes ago. We have a comment box if you’d like to make a complaint.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to complain. But we’ve had a terrible night, and I’d really like to take my girlfriend home. Can you please tell the doctor, or the lab, or whoever is keeping us here, to hurry the hell up?”
She nods. “Yes. Let me get some information for you.”
She scuttles down the hallway, and I turn my attention back to the blanket warmer. I fetch two and a fluffy-looking pillow. I hustle back to the room, not wanting the blankets to cool too much.
“Here you go,” I say, dropping one blanket and the pillow on the stiff chair I’ve been sitting in for far too long. The other I shake out and cover Amani, who is shivering in the hospital bed. She runs cold to begin with. I’m sure she’s hungry, not that she’d say it. There’s not a damn thing that could make this hospital visit more uncomfortable.
“Thank you, babe.”
“Is that enough?” I ask. “Want one more?”
She gives me a pitiful nod. I grab the other blanket and drape it over her. “So much better,” she says. “What about you?”
I nod toward the chair. “I’m fine, baby, don’t worry.”
“Don’t be silly.” Amani scoots over to one side of the bed, pressing herself against the plastic rail to make room for me. She pulls back the covers. “Come here.”
I don’t hesitate because this is the first time Amani’s been receptive to any physical comfort. Her reaction to everything is scaring me. From the moment she saw the blood, something switched in her.
Almost two weeks ago, when Dr. Michel told us we weren’t pregnant, Amani was disappointed but not like this. This is different. It’s like I watched someone get their light snuffed out in front of my eyes. That’s why I’m hoping, praying, that the doctor walks in and tells us this was just a scare. Go home, make an appointment with our regular provider, but our baby is going to be fine.
Here’s the problem. My gut is telling me what I don’t want to accept. The baby is gone. I’m losing Amani. The way she’s staring blankly at the wall, I don’t know what to say to fix this… But I bet her friends would. I can almost guarantee she wishes they were here.
A career change is not enough. L.A. is not enough. I, without the promise of a baby, am not enough to keep her here.
The moment I’m settled in bed next to Amani and she places her icy hand over mine, there’s a firm knock on the door. The doctor doesn’t wait for us to answer, barreling in. From the very moment we make eye contact, I already know I want to deck this guy. There’s something about his scowl, like he’s incredibly put off that he has to be a doctor tonight.
He’s about my size, definitely older than me. But from what I can make out through his navy blue scrubs, he’s reasonably fit. He could probably take a punch and get back up.
“I’m Doctor Tubbman, and I assure you those beds are not made to hold two people. Patients only, sir.”
Did he just scold me?What the fuck? I want to mouth off about how long he’s taken, but I shut my trap and crawl out of the bed. I want to make this as easy on Amani as possible.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I plant my ass back in my uncomfortable chair.
“Ms. Rhodes, is it?” he asks curtly, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard.
“Yes,” she says.
“Your vitals look good. If you’re not in pain, I’m fine with releasing you. I would follow up with your regular physician just as a precaution. Come back if you have any noteworthy symptoms. Things to watch for will be on your discharge paperwork.” He gives us a clipped smile. “Any questions?”
Holy shit, this guy is rubbing me the wrong way.
Amani’s eyes are down, looking at her lap. “So I miscarried?” Her tone is off. She speaks in a raspy whisper, a sound I’ve never heard from her before.
“The pregnancy definitely won’t carry to term. I’d classify this as a chemical pregnancy versus a miscarriage. Honestly, most women don’t even notice. Had you not tested so early, you probably would’ve thought this was a late period.”
Amani glares at him from the corner of her eyes. “There was a lot of blood. My periods are never that heavy. We were startled.”
He exhales. “Many women go on to have healthy babies after chemical pregnancies. This is not something to be concerned about. Certainly not something worth coming to the ER for.”
She hangs her head and lets out a small scoff. “I’m so glad we waited four hours to hear that.”
Amani tries to brush it off, but I’ve hit my tipping point. I’ve been in go mode since the moment I pulled back the covers and saw the woman I love lying on blood-soaked sheets. I couldn’t fix it, so all I could think of was to get her to people who could fix it. Of course I understand we can’t fight nature, but this reaction from the doctor?
No. She’s been through too much. She’s had enough. I’ve had enough.
“What the fuck did you just say to her?”
Doctor Tubbman’s eyes pop into wide circles. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I seethe. “Did you miss the class where they taught bedside manner in medical school? Who the hell do you think you are? I don’t care if she came in here with a paper cut. She’s still a patient. And while this is a minor inconvenience to you, our entire world just came crashing down. So you can fix your attitude.”
“You need to calm down,” Dr. Tubbman says, pulling the stethoscope from around his neck. “I need to check her vitals, then you can leave.”
“Don’t touch her.” I stand, kicking my chair back. “You leave. Now. It takes a lot to get me to this point, but you will not disrespect my wife in front of me.” Fuck. I run my hand down my face. The word just slipped. “I mean my girlfriend,” I mumble.
Amani’s eyes snap to mine, and her face turns red as her eyes water. She does her best to hold it in, but fails, and completely loses it in front of me. Breaking into hysterics, she holds her stomach, bawling. All I can make out through her cries are “it’s not fair,” and “we got so close.”
It reminds me of the first time I knocked on her car window. Her outburst isn’t just sadness. It’s frustration, helplessness, and anger rolled into one. After yanking out my wallet, I pull out one of my black cards. I toss it on Dr. Tubbman’s clipboard. “Go ahead and bill me, you jackass.”
He watches, stunned, as I grab her purse, stuff her neatly folded clothes and sneakers in the largest compartment, then sling it around my shoulder. I pull back the blankets on the hospital bed and scoop Amani up in my arms. I whisk her out of the patient room without a second thought. She’s too fucking light. This should be far more strenuous, but she feels so small in my arms.
The pleasant blond nurse from before chases us down and races me to the emergency doors, stepping on the mat so the glass doors peel apart before we get there.
“I’m so sorry,” she says as we pass. Letting us go first, she follows us out. “I heard everything. There’s a place on the website where you can file a complaint. Tubbman is spelled with two Bs. This isn’t right.”
None of this is right.How did we get here? Eight hours ago, all my dreams had come true.
I know Amani has given up. My sassy, firecracker summer girl would’ve been kicking her feet, insisting I put her down so she could walk herself. She probably would’ve popped off on the doctor herself. Instead, she simply lets me carry her across the parking lot, resting her face against my chest, soaking my shirt with her tears.
I’m barely out of breath, fury and adrenaline fueling me.
“Which car is yours?” the nurse asks.
I nod toward my vehicle, parked only a few yards away from the emergency entry. “Over there, right up front.”
The nurse hustles to the passenger side door. When I’m close enough that the car unlocks, she opens the passenger side door so I can place Amani right in the seat. I wipe the wet streaks from her cheek. “We’re almost done with this night. Hang tight, okay? I’ll get you home.”
As soon as I step aside, the nurse squats down and gives Amani instructions about what to do if she feels any sharp pains or experiences clotting.
“Thank you,” Amani says, trying to smile, but her lips barely twitch.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” the nurse says. “I had two chemical pregnancies when my husband and I were trying. They were heartbreaking and you have every right to feel the way you do. No one should diminish that. But if it helps, I have two beautiful boys now. Six and three.” She pats Amani’s knee softly. “Give yourself time, but don’t give up, okay?”
Little does this kind nurse know, this pregnancy was Amani’s last chance.
After sliding into the driver’s seat, I turn on the car, cranking the heat. “Are you okay, baby? Look at me.”
She turns in my direction and forces a smile. “I’m okay,” she says, pretending like she didn’t just have a total meltdown.
I hold out my hand, and she takes it. She lifts her emerald green eyes that look a little dull against the light-gray sky. We’ve been here for so long, the sun is almost rising.
“No, you’re not,” I tell her, running my thumb over the top of her hand.
“No, I’m not,” she admits. “But it’s not just because of the pregnancy. It’s just… What was all this for, Adam? Why did I go through all of this? Why am I here? I’m having trouble seeing the purpose of this past year. I lost so much time, and for what?”
“You found me,” I say. “I’m still here.”
She gives me a small nod. “I know. I’m grateful for that,” she says ever so softly.
I know it’s not the right time to ask, but I can’t hold back any longer. I want the truth. “But it’s not enough, is it? You don’t want to be here anymore.”
She squeezes my hand gently. “Adam, I promised you I’d stay. So I’ll stay. Can we go home now? I don’t want to look at this hospital anymore.”
Wordlessly, I pull out of the parking lot. This early in the morning, the traffic is light. There are a few clusters of cars here and there, probably surfers headed to the beaches, trying to catch the first waves of the day.
When we get back to the condo, Amani asks for some privacy in the bedroom. She doesn’t want me to watch her strip the bloody sheets and try to clean the mattress. I know she’s a suffer in silence kind of girl, but didn’t we do this together? I’m not trying to be selfish, but I’m hurt and disappointed, too.
Over the past few months, Amani reminded me of the man I had always intended to become. I lost a part of me when my marriage broke. I thought for sure it was gone forever. It was painful to get a glimpse of what I wanted, just to have it ripped away yet again. But I imagine it’s ten times worse for Amani.
A baby was her hope. Her redemption. A family of her own was worth fighting for and made her believe in the good in this world. And now there’s no baby. I know in my heart she’ll never be happy here in L.A., which is a living reminder of everything she’s trying to walk away from. What she needs, I can’t give her. But I think I know who can. Selfishly, I don’t want to do the right thing because it means letting her go.
But what choice do I have? Isn’t that real love? Caring more about what someone needs than what you want?
When I hear the shower turn on from the bedroom, I settle into the living room couch and make a call that I know is going to change everything.
It barely rings twice.
“Adam?” Noa asks, concern filling her voice. “Is Chase okay?”
“Huh?”
“You never call me,” she hurries out. “I just assumed something was wrong.”
“Chase is fine,” I say, as far as I know. His filming schedule has him overseas at the moment and keeps him very busy. Any spare moment he has, he wants to talk to his fiancée, daughter, and soon to be stepson. I’m happy for my best friend.
“How’s Presley?”
Noa lets out a sweet hum. “She’s doing so good. She’s getting so big. You would’ve never guessed she was a preemie. I’ll send you some videos. We’re actually heading up to visit Kayla today.”
“Yeah? How’s she doing in rehab?”
“Wonderfully. Still sober and thriving. She has about thirty days left, I believe.”
“That’s good,” I murmur.
“Adam? What’s wrong?” Noa asks. “I get this feeling you’re upset.”
“Noa, almost a year ago now, I led you from an elevator, right into Chase’s arms, and told the entire world you were Chase’s new girlfriend. You could’ve freaked out, but you played along because you knew we needed help. You have an impressive knack for rolling with the punches.”
She laughs. “Yeah, that was one hell of a meet-cute. Have I mentioned I still haven’t forgiven you for that?”
I chuckle half-heartedly. “Well, it worked out, right?”
“That it did… So is this your way of asking me to roll with the punches again? Because I’m publicly engaged to your best friend. It’s not a great time for me to fake date anyone else.”
“Amani,” I say simply.
“I knew it,” Noa singsongs. “She’s been so tight-lipped about it, but I knew you two were messing around. Does Chase know? Because I’ve asked him a million times, and he’s said nothing—”
“Noa,” I interrupt. “I’m not just messing around with Amani. I’m in love with her.”
“Oh,” Noa says softly.
Pausing, I ensure the shower is still running and Amani can’t hear me. “But she’s staying in L.A. for me, and I don’t think it’s good for her. If she moves back to Denver, I need to know you’re going to take care of her.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I’ve always known you and your friends are close, but she has secrets that aren’t mine to tell. She’ll tell you when she’s ready, but I think she’s broken more than I realize. She needs her home and to start fresh.”
“What’s going on?” Noa asks, a little more sternly, her mom voice kicking in. “What am I missing? What happened to Amani?”
“Just promise me you’ll take care of her. It’s the only way I can let her go.”
There’s silence on the line for a while. I’m sure Noa’s debating whether she should press me harder for details, or just hang up the phone and call Amani herself. But she agrees to my cryptic request.
“Adam, I’ve loved her for much longer than you have. Of course I’ll take care of her. We all will.”
“Okay,” I breathe out. “Good. Thank you.”
I hang up the phone, knowing I sealed our fate. It hurts, but I just want Amani to breathe again. I can’t let her lose that smile. And if after everything we’ve been through, I’m not packing my bags to follow behind, I wonder if maybe we just weren’t meant to be.
Maybe she’s the right girl, at the wrong time. Perhaps we were just here to help each other get unstuck. All I know is summer is long gone.
It’s time to move forward.