11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Caroline
The crib was supposed to fit. Caroline had measured the space three times before her mother and Jemma ordered it.
Thirty-four inches between the side of the bed and the dresser, which was enough room for the compact crib if it stood against the wall with the short end near the closet.
The bottom drawer of the dresser would open, the bedroom door would clear the corner, and her mother could still reach her side of the bed.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was the only plan.
The crib had arrived in a long cardboard box covered with a smiling baby and promises about easy assembly. Jemma had moved it into the bedroom before work, and Caroline had unpacked the pieces one at a time. Now pale wood, screws, and cardboard covered almost every bit of open floor.
She sat on the edge of the bed with the instruction sheet spread across her knees. The drawings were clear. She’d put together harder things in college.
The crib wasn’t the problem. The room was.
Caroline set the instructions aside and lowered herself carefully onto the floor. Her daughter pressed against her ribs as she leaned forward.
“I know,” Caroline murmured. “Your first lesson in design. A plan can be good, and the space can still be terrible.”
The baby answered with a solid kick.
“That’s rude. I didn’t ask for notes.”
She fitted two pieces together and reached for a screw.
Her back ached from bending around her stomach, but seeing the shape form made the discomfort worth it.
Her mother and Jemma had looked so proud when they told her what they’d bought.
They’d split the cost even after Caroline said they couldn’t afford it.
They’d done everything for her since she came home, so Caroline wanted them to walk in and find one thing finished.
Her job search had brought nothing useful. She’d sent more applications and received more automatic replies. No interviews and no questions about her portfolio. Nobody had even reached the point of learning she was pregnant and deciding that hiring her would be too much trouble.
But she could build her daughter’s crib.
Her phone buzzed on the dresser. Caroline knew who it was before she looked. Hayden had called every day since their meeting at the diner. She never answered. His messages came anyway.
Have you eaten?
Do you need anything?
How are you feeling?
Her answers stayed small.
Yes.
No.
Fine.
One word couldn’t become a conversation or another promise she wanted too badly.
She reached up and took the phone from the dresser.
Hayden: Have you heard anything about any of the jobs?
Caroline stared at the question. She hadn’t told him how many more applications she’d sent. He only knew that she was still looking.
No, she typed.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Hayden: I’m sorry.
She locked the screen before he could add anything. Then she placed the phone on the bed, close enough to hear but far enough to stop herself from looking at it all the time. It still didn’t stop her from listening for it.
She finished attaching one side of the crib. To reach the next piece, she had to stand, step over a strip of torn cardboard, and move to the narrow space beside the dresser. She used the mattress to push herself up. Pins and needles ran through one foot, and she waited until they faded.
“Easy,” she told herself.
She turned sideways and lifted her leg over the box.
The back of her heel caught under a stiff cardboard flap.
Her foot came down wrong. Her ankle twisted under her with a sharp, sickening pain.
Caroline grabbed for the dresser, missed it, and fell hard on her hip.
Pain shot from her ankle to her knee. The edge of a crib panel struck the floor beside her.
For one blank second, she couldn’t breathe.
Then both hands flew to her stomach.
“Baby?” The word came out thin and frightened.
She stayed still, one palm high and one low, waiting for movement. Her heart beat so hard she could feel it in her throat. The baby had been kicking moments ago. Now Caroline felt nothing.
“Come on, sweetheart.” Her voice shook. “Kick me again. You can be rude. I won’t complain.”
She pressed gently, then stopped because she didn’t know if she should. Her stomach didn’t hurt. She hadn’t landed on it. That should’ve helped, but fear didn’t care what should help.
A slow roll moved under her hand.
Caroline shut her eyes. Air rushed out of her.
“Thank you.”
Relief lasted until she tried to move her right foot. Pain cut through her ankle again, hot and deep. She gripped the bed frame and pulled herself onto her knees. When she tried to stand, the slightest weight on the injured foot made her cry out. She sank back to the floor.
Her phone was on the bed above her. She could reach it if she stretched, but the first attempt pulled at her side. Caroline shifted onto her unhurt hip, caught the edge of the blanket, and tugged until the phone slid close enough to grab.
She called her mother.
“Hey, honey,” her mother answered over the clink of dishes and distant voices. “Everything okay?”
Caroline tried to sound calm. “I fell.”
The diner noise seemed to disappear. “What happened?”
“I was putting the crib together. I caught my foot, and my ankle twisted. I landed on my hip.”
“Did you hit your stomach?”
“No. I don’t think so. The baby’s moving.”
“Are you bleeding?”
“No.”
“Any pain in your stomach?”
“Just my ankle.” Caroline swallowed. “I can’t stand on it.”
Her mother let out a tight breath. “Stay where you’re sitting. I’m coming.”
“Mom, you’re working.”
“I don’t care.”
“You can’t just leave in the middle of your shift.”
“I can, but I can’t get away this second. We have customers waiting, and I’m the only one covering the floor.” Her mother spoke quickly now. “I’m calling Hayden. He can get there faster.”
Caroline’s grip tightened around the phone. “No.”
“You said the baby is moving, but you fell and you can’t stand. Somebody needs to get you checked.”
“Jemma.”
“Jemma’s at work too. Hayden told me to call if you needed anything.”
Of course he had.
“Mom, please.”
“Do you want to sit on that floor until I can leave?”
Caroline looked around at the crib pieces, the screws, and the cardboard trapped under her foot. Her ankle had already begun to swell above her sock. Her daughter moved again, but the motion didn’t calm her enough.
“No,” she whispered.
“Is the front door unlocked?”
She tried to remember whether she’d turned the lock after everyone was gone that morning.
“I think so,” she said.
“Good. Don’t try to get up. I’m calling him now, and then I’m calling you back.”
The call ended before Caroline could argue again.
She worked the cardboard away from her heel and pulled at her sock. What if Hayden saw her on the floor in the middle of an unfinished crib and decided she couldn’t manage one simple task?
He’d promised to do better. He’d also promised to listen, and for one painful conversation, he had. That didn’t mean she wanted him to see her like this.
Her phone rang. She expected her mother, but Hayden’s name filled the screen. Caroline answered because there wasn’t any point pretending she could avoid him now.
“I’m on my way,” he said. His voice was clipped and breathless. “Are you bleeding?”
“No.”
“Did you hit your stomach?”
“I landed on my hip. The baby’s moving.”
He let out a breath. “Good. Don’t try to stand.”
“I already tried.”
“Of course you did.”
The words could’ve sounded impatient. They didn’t. They sounded scared.
“The door should be unlocked,” she said. “And… Hayden?”
“Yes?”
She almost told him not to come. Instead, she pressed her hand over the place where their daughter had moved.
“Hurry.”
“I will.”
He arrived while she was still on the phone with her mother. The apartment door opened, followed by Hayden calling her name.
“Bedroom,” Caroline answered.
His steps came fast down the hall, then he stopped in the doorway.
His fear was clear. He had no jacket, his white shirt was open at the throat, and his black hair looked as if he’d pushed both hands through it several times.
His gaze moved over the crib pieces, the crowded floor, and Caroline against the bed.
She braced for the question. Why had she done this alone? Why hadn’t she waited?
Instead, Hayden crouched beside her. “Where does it hurt?”
“My ankle. I think it’s swelling.”
“Can I look?”
Caroline nodded. He moved the loose cardboard aside and touched her heel. He pressed lightly. Caroline bit down on the inside of her cheek.
Hayden’s face tightened. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I still don’t like to see you in pain.”
The answer went through her too quickly. She looked away. Her ankle was already puffy along the outside, but it wasn’t bent wrong. Hayden touched around it again, watching her face more than her foot.
“We need to have you checked,” he said. “Both of you.”
“I know.”
“Can you move your toes?”
She did.
“Good.” He sat back on his heels. “I’m going to help you up without letting you put weight on it.”
Caroline glanced at the narrow path between the crib pieces. “That’s going to be fun.”
“I can carry you.”
“No.”
His eyebrows rose.
“I’m pregnant, not luggage,” she said.
For the first time since he entered, some of the panic left his face. “I don’t usually ask my luggage for permission.”
The laugh surprised her. It was only one breath, and it hurt behind her ribs.
Hayden held out both hands. “Let me help you stand. If that doesn’t work, I’m carrying you, and you can complain the whole way.”
With his arm firm around her waist and her arm over his shoulders, Caroline got upright on her left foot. Hayden kept most of her weight against him. He didn’t rush her or tell her what she should’ve done. Each time she stopped, he stopped too.
By the time they reached his car, Caroline was shaking from effort and fear. Hayden helped her into the passenger seat and lifted her injured foot onto the space in front of her. He fastened the seat belt low across her hips, then paused with one hand near her stomach.
“She’s still moving?”