Chapter 41
Dominic
The ringing in my head is a piercing, slicing, searing pain going from my temple down to my jaw. I’m pretty sure it’s not just the residual sound of the fight ring bell.
“Easy,” the doctor says when my eyes flutter open. My immediate instinct is to sit up, but two hands brace me by the shoulders, holding me to the stiff bed. that can only belong to a hospital.
“What the hell happened?” I demand, and I feel the doctor’s hands brushing my face.
“You were in a fight,” the doctor says calmly. It’s then I realize the hands in front of my face are sewing stitches into my cheek just below my eye. I also realize that I can’t see out of my left eye or open it for that matter.
“Jesus,” I say, cringing. “How bad was it?”
“I mean, it’s not good,” he says calmly. “I’m surprised it wasn’t worse, considering the brass knuckles.”
“Brass knuckles?” I ask, and slowly little slivers of the fight filter back into my pounding brain.
Rafe.
The fight for Golden Rule.
The hit that took me to the floor and knocked out my lights.
Mila trying to stop all of it.
Mila.
“Where is she?” I ask. The last thing I remember about Mila is her trying to jump into the ring, warning me about Rafe, and then being dragged away by security.
“I need you to hold still, Dominic,” the doctor says. “I am nearly finished, but if you keep jerking around, my work is going to be sloppy. And I–” he says before snipping the last of the stitches. “Do not leave scars.”
“Did a girl come in here with me? Looking for me?” I ask as more memories flash like a strobe light in my mind.
The security guard dragging her away. Mila fighting him, trying to get to me. Him letting go and Mila falling. Mila hitting the floor, flat on her stomach.
“She’s pregnant,” I say. “She’s pregnant, and she fell. Her name is Mila. Mila Rojas. Is she–”
“She’s in L&D,” he says, peeling his gloves off.
“Labor and delivery?” I ask, shoving myself up on the bed and grabbing the guard rails when my head swirls and my stomach turns. “Why is she there? Is she in labor?”
“Precautionary, if I had to guess,” he says.
“Well, I want to see her,” I say and after a back and forth about me being able to walk, a forest worth of paperwork and some useless information from the nurse about aftercare and whatnot, I make my way to the sixth floor of the hospital. Labor and delivery.
“I’m looking for Mila Rojas,” I tell the nurse at the front desk as soon as I get off the elevator.
“And you are?” she asks.
“Her…fiancé,” I say, and her eyes flash up to mine then drag down my swollen cheek.
“I see. Well. Miss Rojas is in room number 607,” she says, and I nod, pulling away from the desk. “But she is currently sleeping and not taking visitors.”
“She’s pregnant with my baby,” I tell the woman.
“I understand,” she says. “But she’s been through a lot since she got here, and the doctor wants her to sleep.”
“Can I talk to the doctor?” I ask. I’m two seconds away from slamming through the double doors and finding her myself, but the last thing I need right now is to get kicked out of the hospital so I play it cool.
“I’ll page him for you,” she says. I decide to take a seat in the waiting area. No less than twenty minutes later, the doors open and a man in teal scrubs walks out.
“Mr. Wolfe?” he asks, and I bolt up from my seat, regretting it immediately because I nearly fall on my ass.
Brass fucking knuckles.
I’m going to kick his ass the next time I see him. Right now, my focus is on Mila.
“Yes,” I nod, and the doctor stands in front of me.
“I understand you’re Mila’s boyfriend?” he asks.
“Fiancé,” I say. It’s not an attempt at being romantic, but I figure the label has more sway since we aren’t related.
“Mila took a fall,” he says. “Landing on her stomach. It caused some contractions.”
“Is she in labor?” I ask.
“No. It’s too early for that. It was more of a stress response from her body. The baby is fine, and so is Mila, but we are keeping an eye on things overnight. Her blood pressure was very high when she came in,” he explains and I nod.
Fuck. Even that tiny motion sends jolts of pain through my entire head.
The doctor is still staring at me. “We need to make sure her stress level stays low. For both her and the baby,” he adds as his eyes trail down my newly rearranged face.
Right.
“I just want to know if she’s okay,” I say. “I won’t wake her.”
“Doctor Schneider,” one of the nurses calls. “624 is ready for you.”
He nods in her direction before looking back at me. “I’ll take you back. Five minutes.”
“Got it,” I agree and follow him through the doors.
Mila is lying still in the bed, dressed in the same color gown I just shed out of. Her cheeks are flushed and her mouth is tipped downward in a pout, her lipstick faded to a pale pink. I clench my jaw and swallow the lump burning the back of my throat.
I slowly approach the bed, noting the machines beeping and buzzing. Tubes string from the bags overhead into her arm and under the gown to her belly.
“What are those for?” I ask the nurse who is writing something on a tablet. My head is still pounding. Meanwhile, my heart is swirling with a cocktail of mixed feelings.
“NSTs,” she says. “Non stress tests. We are monitoring the baby and mama just to make sure things are okay.”
“And are they?” I ask. “Okay, I mean.”
“Mama is totally fine. You don’t have to worry about your wife,” she answers, sitting next to the bed.
“Fiancé,” I correct her, and she glances at me.
“Of course.”
“And the baby?” I ask.
“Fine as well,” she answers.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Here,” she says, grabbing a wand and nodding up at the screen. “Let me put your mind at ease.” She presses the wand to Mila’s belly and black and white bubbles blur across the screen. It almost looks like the inside of a lava lamp. Then the machine makes a rhythmic whooshing sound.
“What’s that?” I ask. “What’s happening?”
She smiles up at me. “That…is the heartbeat,” she answers.
“The heartbeat?” I echo. I know I sound like an idiot. But I haven’t spent a lot of time on the labor and delivery floor. Plus, my head is throbbing so hard I can feel my heartbeat in my cheek.
“Yes. The baby’s heartbeat,” she says, and it hits me like a freight train.
“That…that sound is the baby’s heartbeat?” I ask.
“Yes. She’s strong,” she says.
“She?” I blink.
“Just a feeling,” she says. “I’ll leave you two alone for a minute. Or three, I should say. I have another mama to check on. Don’t hang around too long. Dr. Schneider is a stickler when it comes to visiting hours.”
“I gathered,” I nod without a smile, and the nurse places a hand on my arm before walking out.
The machine is silent now, other than the beeping and humming. But that sound, the fast, galloping-like sound of a teeny tiny heartbeat, is something I will never not hear.
I swallow hard for the second time, and my eyes lock on her soft face again.
My heart is aching in my chest, almost worse than my head.
Then I notice a glimmer on the table next to her.
My mom’s wedding band is resting on the table.
They must have taken it off when she arrived while running tests.
I pick it up, and my heart clenches in my chest.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was going to marry her.
It was going to be real. I was going to take her on a honeymoon, propose for real, and have a huge post-honeymoon reception with everyone we love.
Not only that, but I would have my inheritance in my possession and the Golden Rule job in the bag.
Away from someone whose intentions are never good. So where did it go wrong?
It started when Rafe and Brynn got involved. And it ended with Rafe’s dishonest, brass-wrapped fist in my face.
God. All of it is such a mess. I want to forget it all. I want to start over. And yet, there is still one big, glaring sore spot in the middle of it all.
Mila kept the baby from me. She knew she was pregnant, and she didn’t tell me. And that tells me that her heart isn’t where I thought it was. I shove the ring in my pocket and walk out of the room, unsure about my heart too.