Rory
My head spins as I try to process everything.
“Is it okay if I bring Nate in?” Dr. Graham asks again.
Her tone is patient, as though she has all the time in the world and nowhere to be but right here. It’s soothing amidst the jumble of emotions and facts that my brain is trying to sort through.
“I… Does he know?” I ask.
Because I want Nate here. He’s my rock. But I’m barely grasping the situation, and if I have to explain it to him on my own, I’m not sure I’ll be able to.
In the background, a monitor beeps, probably indicating that my heart rate is above whatever normal is.
If you ask me, the way my pulse is racing is probably exactly normal for any part of this situation.
“I let him know that you had surgery for a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. I’ll talk more with both of you together about your recovery and what that means for future childbearing.”
“I should have told him,” I whisper.
I should have told him everything, from my late period to the pregnancy tests. All of it, even when I thought there was nothing to tell.
After all the secrets and miscommunications between us and the way we promised not to keep things from one another, how could I have done this to him?
Dr. Graham takes a seat on the end of the hospital bed.
She pats my knee as a tear spills over and runs down my cheek. “The two of you have a lot to talk about. But you should know that there’s nothing either of you did to cause this to happen.”
It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like I kept this from him.
I should have talked to him the minute I had a concern. The second I thought about buying a pregnancy test, let alone taking one.
Tears fill my eyes. I don’t know how he can ever trust me again.
“I know it doesn’t feel like that right now,” Dr. Graham continues. “Pregnancy is one of those things that we girls take personally, even when there’s nothing we could have done to change the outcome.”
I sniffle. “I should have told him sooner. As soon as I was worried. As soon as I got the tests.”
Dr. Graham smiles. “Well, we can’t change the past. But the good news is that you can talk to him now. He loves you, Rory. He’s just so happy you’re okay.”
I swallow and shift on the bed, then wince as pain shoots through my abdomen.
“Do you need some pain meds?” Dr. Graham asks, her brows pulling together. “I can send the nurse in with some.”
I shake my head. “I just had some. They just need to kick in. And I just…I just want to talk to Nate right now.”
“Okay, then.” She pats my knee and stands. “I’ll bring him in, and then I’ll go over everything again with both of you. Okay?”
I nod.
As she leaves the room, I lay my head on the pillow and close my eyes.
A ruptured ectopic pregnancy.
Endometriosis.
Fertility.
No guarantees, no promises.
“Rory!” Nate’s voice fills the room.
I open my eyes as the man I love practically runs through the door.
When he reaches the bed, he stops short. “Rory, I was so worried about you. I’m so glad you’re okay. Can I…”
He holds his arms out like he’s looking for a hug, clearly worried about hurting me.
“Nate.” I lift my arms and give him an awkward hug, the IV tubing tangling between us. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He holds me close, not letting go. “Rory. Baby. I love you so much.”
When he pulls back from the hug, he keeps one hand on my arm while the other traces my face. His fingers glide over every inch of my cheeks, my chin, my forehead, like he’s memorizing it.
“I’m okay,” I say, trying to reassure him. “Really. I’m so sorry, Nate.”
He shakes his head. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Dr. Graham coughs, and I realize at the same time as Nate that she’s still standing there.
He straightens and looks over to her. “I’m sorry, Doc. I know you said you wanted to talk to us. I don’t want to keep you waiting. Just…”
He leans down and kisses my forehead again.
Dr. Graham smiles. “Not a problem. My apologies. I had a tickle in my throat. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
God, I love her, with her soft voice and insight and the way it feels like you’re the only person she’s focused on at any given time.
Nate finally takes a seat next to the bed, clasping my hand tightly in his large palm. “We’re ready now. Tell us what’s going on. Whatever you’ve got, we’re going to get through it. Together.”
He gives my hand a squeeze at that last word.
I swallow against a lump in my throat because I know what Dr. Graham is going to say. She told me first, but offered to be the one to tell Nate, with both of us together.
It helps, but I’m not sure it’ll change the outcome.
Nate won’t want me once he knows.
Dr. Graham settles onto a rolling stool and slides closer to the bed.
She crosses one leg over the other and folds her hands together, setting them on her thigh. “Okay, then. I’ll go through the whole thing, and then we’ll talk about what’s next. Okay?”
“Okay.” Nate nods. “So when will she come home?”
I elbow him. “She said details, then future. Calm down, beard boy.”
The pain meds are kicking in, and they’re starting to make me loopy. I’m not sure if that’s a side effect or intentional. It’s helping to dull the emotional pain, at least a little.
Nate looks down at me with pure adoration. “I love when you call me that. Maybe I’ll keep the beard year-round, just for that.”
I poke him again.
Dr. Graham clears her throat. “So as I told you both, Rory had what is called a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. That means that you had a fertilized egg, but it landed somewhere it shouldn’t have—in this case, it took up residence in the fallopian tube.
That’s a common place for ectopic pregnancies, especially in someone who has an IUD, like Rory did. ”
Nate listens intently, leaning forward in his seat while still gripping my hand.
Dr. Graham looks between us. “The embryo started to grow, but because the space in the tube is limited, the embryo caused a rupture. Basically, it got too big for its space, breaking a hole in the tube.”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly my uterus that exploded, but they’re all connected. I think.
“It exploded?” Nate asks, his expression morphing into one of horror.
Dr. Graham does a remarkable job of holding back her laughter.
“Not exactly, but kind of. And when a tubal pregnancy like this ruptures, it causes a lot of bleeding, which was what caused Rory to lose consciousness. We were able to stop the bleeding in surgery, and I’m sure Rory is feeling better after the blood transfusion she received. ”
Nate nods slowly. “So. Now what?”
This part I know.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.
“We had to remove that tube entirely,” Dr. Graham says. “And unfortunately, an embryo outside the uterus isn’t viable. Even if we tried to put it into the uterus, where babies are supposed to grow, it wouldn’t attach the way it would need to.”
Nate exhales. “But Rory will be okay.”
“Rory is okay,” Dr. Graham confirms. “She had a big surgery and lost a lot of blood, and she’ll have to stay in the hospital for another day or two, until we’re sure she’s stable.”
“Thank fuck.” Nate leans over and presses his cheek to my chest, getting as close as humanly possible without actually climbing onto the bed with me.
I make eye contact with Dr. Graham. I need her to be the one to say this.
She gives me a small nod to indicate she understands. “Nate, Rory, with the loss of one tube, it’s possible that this will impact Rory’s future fertility.”
This isn’t the first time Dr. Graham has told me that, but it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier to hear it out loud.
“As long as Rory is okay,” Nate says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “That’s all that matters.”
I don’t think he’s really understanding.
“Nate,” I say. My throat is sore. The nurse told me it’s because they put a breathing tube in for surgery. “I might not be able to have children.”
He pulls back and stares down at me. “So?”
Oh my God.
The words are painful to say. Literally, because of my throat, but also metaphorically, because this fact will change everything.
“I know you want kids, Nate. A family. And I…” I swallow back a sob. “I might not be able to give that to you.”
He straightens up and looks at Dr. Graham, surprising me. “Doc, can you give us a minute?”
“Of course. I’ll stop back shortly.” She stands and exits the room, leaving the two of us alone.
“I’m so sorry, Nate,” I whisper. “I understand if…”
I can’t even finish the sentence.
“Scoot over.” Nate points to the bed. “Wait, can you? Is it going to hurt? Because—”
“I can scoot.” I manage to move my body a few inches to one side of the hospital bed.
The plastic of the mattress creaks beneath me.
I’m not sure if their goal in designing these things is to maximize how uncomfortable they can be, but if so, then job well done. Job well fucking done.
Nate kicks off his shoes as he climbs onto the bed. He tucks his legs beneath the flimsy sheet and snuggles his body right up to mine.
I try not to think of how perfect this is. How comfortable. How well we fit and how I’m able to lean on his strength.
Better not to think of everything you stand to lose, right?
“Rory,” Nate says. He tucks a finger beneath my chin, turning me to face him. “Let me be really clear here. I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.”
I stare into his eyes, trying to understand.
“Let me rephrase that, babe, because despite everything we’ve been through, we seem to run into some communication issues at times, and I don’t want that to be an issue here.”
Despite everything, a small laugh bubbles up.
Some communication issues?
Way to put it lightly.
“I’m serious, Rory.” His eyes search mine. “I don’t care about kids. Or fertility or whatever. I just care about you. That you’ll be okay. The rest of it is just icing on the cake.”
“I love you so much,” I whisper. “So, so much.”
Nate pulls me even closer. There’s not a lot of space in this bed to start with, so our bodies are pressed against one another, but as he pulls me tighter against his chest, I recognize the need to be so close we’re practically one person.
Because it’s what I need, too.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I took a test,” I whisper. “I wanted to be sure. To know if it was real before I got your hopes up.”
Nate kisses my temple. “Tell you what. Next time you think about taking a pregnancy test, you let me know. We’ll look at it together.”
“I wanted to be sure, and then when I got my period, I didn’t think there was anything to tell. I’m sorry,” I say again.
“How about this,” Nate says. “I’ll forgive you. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
He shifts his body so I can see his entire face, somehow managing to do it in a way that doesn’t jostle my body. “Two conditions, actually. One, no more secrets. We don’t keep things from one another.”
I nod. “I promise. No more secrets.”
Nate smiles. “Two, I’m going to ask you a question. And you have to give me an answer. For real.”
I lick my lips, realizing how dry they are. “Okay.”
“Promise. You can answer however you want, whenever you want, but you have to actually answer. Got it?”
“You’re being weird.” I cough, then wince as the action makes my ab muscles tighten.
“Do you need pain medicine?” Nate’s eyes widen, whatever important question he had momentarily forgotten.
“Ugh. No. I had some, and it’s already making me feel all foggy. What’s your question?”
“Are you sure? I can get a nurse.”
“Was that your question?”
“No, that’s not my question. Why would you think that?”
I shrug as best I can, given the limitations of my IV tubing and monitor cables. “I don’t know. So what was this question, then?”
He takes a deep breath and then lets it out. “Aurora Kelley. For the love of God, with a million yellow daisies and all the love in my heart, will you fucking marry me? Please?”