21. Winter
TWENTY-ONE
WINTER
H unter holds my hand in the back seat of the new armored G-wagon. It took a solid two weeks of talks with him for me to gather the nerve to get in this car and head to our destination. I emailed Genevieve about it several times, going back and forth with her about how I’m a horrible person and her rebuttal that I’m not.
Ultimately, I required Hunter to take his focus off his work and come with me.
But now that we’re in front of the townhouse, fire ants circle in my belly, making me want to faint.
Hunter clasps my hand in his, and I look over to him. I can almost pretend that we don’t have a driver and a guard in the front seats or a battalion of vehicles surrounding our vehicle from all angles.
“She wants to see you, baby. She loves you,” he says. I look at Veronica’s townhome and try to bite down the fear of rejection. I push my fingers into Kitty’s fur, focusing on the sensory input coming from my palms.
“You didn’t hear what I said to her, H,” I whisper. He doesn’t respond for a moment, but after a beat, he pulls me into him, kissing my temple .
“She’s your family. You both just need to talk this out.” He pulls my hand from my mouth when I bite my nail. Some nonverbal communication happens because our driver and five guards are suddenly standing next to my open door.
“I’ll be right here, baby. Go talk with your sister.” He kisses my hand.
Taking a quick cleansing breath, I get out of the car, Kitty clutched to my chest. If people weren’t trying to kill us, I’d laugh at the comedy of the mass of men in black moving with me toward the steps of Veronica’s brownstone. I battle back the desire to feint to the side to break their formation.
The door opens without us knocking, but I take a step back when Rio appears on the other side. He pulls all of us in. When I get into the foyer, I’m bewildered that seven guards I’ve seen at Amelia Manor mill around Veronica’s home.
Rio shrugs in a non-committal way when I look at him. I pull out my phone.
Why are all these guards already inside Veronica’s house?
His reply is almost instant.
I wanted to make sure she was safe, so I assigned her a detail.
I swallow down the happy tears. This man loves me so much that he wants to make sure everyone I care about is also safe.
I love you.
I love you more. Always. Transcendentally .
I put my phone in my jacket pocket at the sound of footsteps, but I pause when Ella descends the staircase.
“Ella? What are you doing here?” It looks like in the time Veronica and I have been fighting—is that what we call it?—she’s formed a whole-ass relationship with my extended circle. I don’t feel weird about it.
“I check in on Veronica daily, especially now that she’s on bed rest.”
“ Bed rest? ” My voice is a near shout. Oh, my God. “Is she okay? Is the baby okay?” I rush up the stairs, but Ella puts her hand on my shoulder to stop me.
“Yes, the baby is fine, as is Veronica. Her blood pressure hasn’t been the greatest, so her doctor wants her on total bed rest for the next week or so until she can deliver. Her mom and dad are caught over in Europe for the next week at least, so I didn’t want her to be alone.”
I feel all the blood drain from my face.
“Can I see her?” I ask, and the strange out-of-body feeling that I’m asking someone else to see Veronica causes the world to tilt. We’ve always just been there for each other.
“Yes, of course,” Ella says brightly. “She wants to see you. Just make sure you don’t get her excited or upset. She has to keep everything calm.”
I nod and swallow when I take the steps to her bedroom.
When I’m outside her door, I pause. I don’t know what to say to her all of a sudden. Where do I even begin?
I’m sorry for being an asshole to you. Forgive me?
I shake my head and push the door open...only to duck when a pillow sails toward my head.
When I recover, looking at Veronica, I’m taken aback that she’s smiling, damn near laughing at me.
“You’re so mad you’re throwing things, huh?” I say. I put Kitty on the floor, and he runs over to Veronica, jumping on her bed. He sniffs her body and whines, and then he lies on the bed and looks at her. I pick the pillow off the floor and shut the door.
“It seemed like a good way to break the ice. I could hear you thinking from downstairs,” she says. She struggles to sit up more in the bed, and I take a moment to really take her in. Her swollen, shiny face seems flushed.
“Rons, what’s going on?” I’m so concerned. She’s advanced in her pregnancy, in the ninth month now, but not quite due.
“I’ve got a touch of pregnancy hypertension, maybe a lil’ preeclampsia,” she says with a sarcastic smile. She shrugs.
“The fuck ?” I practically yell, rushing to go to the door to get her to the hospital immediately.
“Calm down,” she says. “Dr.Greene has been here every day giving me ultrasounds and checking my urine, thanks to that oaf you call a boyfriend.” She rolls her eyes but doesn’t look at all upset. If anything, she seems relieved.
“What’s going on, Rons?” The urge to cry comes to me all at once. She’s been sick, struggling, and I haven’t been here. “Where is James?”
Veronica stares straight ahead, not looking at me or answering the question. Then she waves her hand in the air as if the inquiry were unimportant.
I dip my chin, breathing deeply. “Veronica, I’m sorry, ” I say. I don’t want to cry but feel the tears welling up anyway. “I have been so angry and hurt, and I’ve taken it out on you. You deserved none of the poison I spewed at you that day.”
She nods her head at me. “Thank you for apologizing,” she says. It’s still stiff.
“I’m ready to get healthy again. To start,” I search for a word, “rebuilding from here. I should allow in more support, not less, from the people who care about me. I want to be a good sister and friend again.” Her eyes turn misty, but she covers the shift in her expression by sipping from her oversized water jug .
I slump down onto the end of her bed. “Please forgive me, Rons.” She looks at me for a moment, her glossy face blank. Then she reaches out her hand to me. I grab it.
“We’re sisters. We say stupid shit, and then we make up. You get a pass,” she says. “This time.” She gives me a significant look.
“Deal,” I say. “What do you need?” I start moving around the room. It’s mostly clean and orderly. Hunter—or James?—has someone keeping the room up.
“Well, first, I need you to help me out of the bed,” she says with a beleaguered sigh.
“Where do you need to go?” I’m by her side in a blink.
“Well,” she says with a slight chuckle. “To the hospital. I’m ninety-seven percent sure my water is broken.”
I help shift her to sitting and notice the giant wet spot beneath her ass.
“Holy shit, we’re having a baby!” I scream. Fifteen hulking guards surround us with guns drawn in the moments following my yell.
“Move, assholes, my niece is about to be born!” Everyone spins into action.
Veronica’s labor ended up being complicated. Her hypertension started to turn into pre-eclampsia, but because Dr.Greene had been monitoring her urine for protein, she was able to see the sharp uptick that noted that she needed to be admitted to Labor and Delivery.
She coincidentally called Veronica to go in for possible induction while we were in the car. Veronica said, “Way ahead of you, Doc. Looks like I’m in labor now.”
I sent Kitty home with Ella, and we rushed to the hospital.
We, being me, Veronica, Rio, and the security guards who stood outside Veronica’s door.
Unfortunately, her other labs weren’t as awesome, so they had to start her on IV anti-hypertensives and a magnesium drip. I held her hand through all of it. Even though she was thirty-seven weeks, so technically early term, the doctors gave her a steroid shot in her butt to help the baby’s lungs.
Veronica labored for eighteen hours, and then my niece was born.
We snuggle up in her hospital bed together two days after the baby’s birth. The doctors are keeping her in longer to make sure her pre-eclampsia resolves, but the baby took to being Earth-side like a champ. It’s incredible—Veronica’s lost what looks like twenty pounds just in water weight overnight.
“Have you decided on a name, Rons?” The baby is in Veronica’s lap, sleeping peacefully, with her mouth moving as if she were sucking milk.
Veronica hums softly. “Summer,” she eventually says. “Gotta keep the seasonal theme in the family,” she says.
Tears fall, shock at the meaning of the gesture stunning me. “Oh, Veronica...” I say, tilting my head to rest on hers. Taking in a slow, deep breath, I get up from the bed to place Summer in her bedside bassinet.
Once I get her settled—and still sleeping—I sit on the edge of Veronica’s bed. She stares out the window, her face blank.
“Rons,” I say softly.
After a moment, she says, “Hm?” almost as if it took a second for my voice to register.
When she looks at me, I ask her again. “Where is James?”
For the entire time we’ve been in the hospital, he hasn’t shown. He hasn’t called. I grab Veronica’s hand, and she stares at our entwined fingers.
She sighs once.
Twice.
And then a sob. Clasping her free hand over her mouth, she breathes deeply to compose herself.
Then she says, “James has decided we need to divorce.” The composure with which she utters these words is astounding .
Icy numbness rushes through me. “When did this happen?” I ask.
“Shortly before you went...missing.” She inhales again, and it sounds like she’s having to remind herself to inhale and exhale.
“Two questions,” I say. “Then I want you to rest, okay?” She nods her head.
“Is he coming back to see his daughter?”
Inhale. Exhale. She shakes her head no.
“Do you need help?”
Inhale. Exhale. She nods her head yes.
“Okay,” I reply, then pull her into my arms as she breaks down in total silence, unwilling to wake her sleeping newborn with her devastation.