Page 149 of Forbidden Lyrics

Chapter Thirty-Six

Dove

When we reach the hospital, they admit her instantly. They hook Maddie up to a bunch of machines that monitor the baby’s heart rate as well as her own before checking her cervix to see how productive her contractions have been.

Gibson offered to stay in the waiting room, and Maddie agreed that it would be best if she could have some space. Me, however, she’s kept by her side constantly, which is weird since convincing her to let me tag along to any of her doctor appointments has been a solid no-go throughout her entire pregnancy. But now that it’s time to meet her little peanut, she’s terrified of being alone.

And I don’t blame her.

I’m not going anywhere.

Once the doctor finishes checking her, he pulls off his gloves and tosses them in the trash.

“You’re dilated to a six, and the sac is bulging,” Dr. Sheffler announces. “We’ll do our best to postpone the delivery for as long as possible, but as soon as your water breaks, we have twenty-four hours to deliver. We’re going to keep you here and keep a close eye on you. The nurse has already been administering the medicine that should help slow the contractions, but I’m going to be honest with you. I think this baby’s coming within the next forty-eight hours.”

My eyes bug out of my head as I register the possible timeline.

Forty-eight hours?

I look down at Maddie hooked up to a bunch of beeping machines. Looking helpless. And numb. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. We’d taken every precaution, but the truth is that this entire situation is out of our hands. And that’s terrifying.

“What’s the likelihood of my baby making it?” Maddie asks, her face void of any expression.

“We have a level four Neonatal Intensive Care Unit on site.”

“And what does that mean exactly?”

“It means they know how to take care of a preemie, Ms. Walker. We’ll do everything we can to keep you and Baby safe. I promise.”

“And the likelihood?” she pushes back. The fire I’ve grown accustomed to simmers just beneath the surface as Maddie stares Dr. Sheffler straight in the eye, daring him to tell her that her baby won’t be okay.

This is the Maddie I know. The woman’s fearless. And she’s going to get through this. No matter what.

“There’s a ninety-nine percent chance that your baby will be fine. Little,” he clarifies, “but fine. If I had to guess, your baby will be in the NICU for around a month so we can monitor them and make sure they reach all of their milestones.”

“What kind of milestones?” I ask.

“We have to make sure they can breathe on their own, have regular bowel movements and wet diapers, and can eat without any issues. But I really do think everything is going to be okay.”

I sag against the edge of the hospital bed, trying to keep my hope in check but feeling relieved nonetheless. Ninety-nine percent. We can work with that.

Maddie gives him a jerky nod, registering his comment carefully to make sure she doesn’t misinterpret anything.

“Okay,” she breathes out. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he returns patiently.

“And when can we do a paternity test?” I ask.

Dr. Sheffler’s gaze shifts from me to Maddie. Again, she nods, silently approving the question.

Clearing his throat, he answers, “As soon as the baby is stable. Do you already have a test?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t even know where I’d get one.”

“We’ve worked with a few companies in the past. If it’s all right with Ms. Walker, I can get you the contact information.”

“Thank you,” Maddie returns. “That would be great.”

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