Page 123 of Salty Pickle

I sense the door opening behind me, then a male voice. “Let me get that.”

It must be a male nurse who’s come on shift. He sounds like… Court.

I swipe at my bleary, swollen eyes. Maybe I’m wishing too hard. Delirious.

There’s a figure there in the low light. Tall. Broad. But that hair is all wrong. Court never looks like he’s been shocked by a light socket.

He picks up the cup and hands it to me.

I stare at him, unsure. This nurse isn’t wearing scrubs.

He speaks again. “I’m guessing by the size of your belly that he’s still in there.”

It is Court!

I’m so shocked, I drop the cup on the bed. Ice spills everywhere. “How are you here?”

“Airplane. Had to bribe a college student to give me his seat.” He sits on the edge of the bed. “Are you in pain?”

“No. I have an epidural. How did you know where to come?”

He bends over to pick up ice from the sheets. “Your Warwick doctor called me and told me where you were.”

“This morning?”

“About ten hours ago.”

“And you… came?”

He palms the dirty ice chips and straightens the cup, which is partially full. “I did.”

I shove an ice chip in my mouth while he takes the fallen ones to the sink.

He’s here!

But what does it mean?

I feel the need to clear up everything.

“I didn’t know about the blood test,” I say around the ice. “But I should have looked it up. I should have been prepared. I should have emailed you before I went to New York. I should have told you back when I found out in February. I?—”

“Hey.” He sits back down and brushes my hair from my face. “Let’s move forward. Okay? Let’s solve each problem as it comes, one at a time.”

I nod. “Okay.”

He leans down and kisses my forehead. At first, he smells like an airplane, and the city. Then I catch the scent of him. The beard oil. The citrus bath wash.

“What can I do for you?” he asks.

“Just be here.”

He grips my hand. “I’m not going anywhere. Did you call your parents to come get you?”

“No. April and Summer did.”

“But you made up with them?”

“They drove me and Matilda home.”

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