Page 88 of Mismatched

“I’ve known since September. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should’ve told you.” I stare down at the thin white sheet, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I just didn’t think—I was sure something would happen—” My voice breaks. “Well, I guess now it has.”

She squeezes my hands and doesn’t let go. “What did they say? What’s going on?”

My voice is unsteady. “The accident was horrible. But we both seemed fine. Anton has some scratches, but I couldn’t find anywhere that even hurt, except... I’m bleeding a little.” My nose burns. A knot tightens in my chest. “They’ve ordered an ultrasound, bloodwork, and a million other things. But no one’s sure of anything yet.” I pull my hands out of her grip, placing them over the tiny mound of my belly.

“Hey.” Caprice moves her fingers gently over mine. “Whatever happens, you’re in the right place.”

I nod, another tear rolling down my cheek.

Some monitor starts beeping behind me, and after a minute the nurse comes in holding a new IV bag. “Hey, good news. Radiology’s almost ready for you. We’ll head down in just a few minutes.”

“Great,” I say. Because I can’t think what else to say.

She finishes changing the IV, resets the machine, and leaves again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say in a low voice.

Caprice’s mouth tightens. A hundred different thoughts pass over her face, but she shakes her head gently. “I guessed two weeks ago, Lydia. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

I draw my knees up under the sheet, feeling even more awful, if that’s possible. “I’ve just been so scared. Not of the baby—well, I thought that was it for a long time. I just finally realized... I’m not sure I should be someone’s mother.”

Her face softens. “Why do you say that? I think you’ll make an excellent mom.”

My brows shoot up in surprise. “Have you met Marion Stanton?”

“Well, yeah.” Her lip curls in sympathy. “But girl, you’re not your mom.”

I shake my head. “If anything, I’m worse. Caprice, we were sitting at Thanksgiving dinner, and she was talking about how much she cherished being at work and not having to be home with us when we were little, and I just realized—I’m going to feel the same way.” A sharp stab of heartburn rises in my throat. “I haven’t been looking forward to diaper changes or singing the ABCs. All I could think was how I would just lose myself, staying home with nothing else to focus on.”

Caprice just looks at me. “Lydia, I’m not a parent. But that doesn’t seem unreasonable.”

“Yes, it does.” I stare at my knees. “You should see my sister. She’s set her entire business aside for her son and dotes on him like he’s her new reason for being. I can’t even bring myself to discuss nursery paint colors with Anton, but you can tell Celia thought about every detail of Gabriel’s room, down to the fabric of his curtains. I just can’t get excited at all—and what if I feel the same way after the baby’s born? Every time Celia asked me to hold Gabriel, I couldn’t wait to give him back.”

“Maybe you just don’t like other people’s kids.” She scoots her chair closer, squeezing my arm. “You know my mom had Theo and me for all the wrong reasons. Her whole life, her career would’ve been different if she’d realized our dad wasn’t worth it. But she loves us.”

“That’s your mom, though.”

“I think that’s a lot of moms.” Caprice sits back in her chair, eyes on my hands, which have drifted back to my stomach. “You are a warm, nurturing person, Lydia. In ways Mama Marion could never be. I know it’s always been hard for you to balance things, and obviously, you’ve got some misgivings about motherhood. But I’m getting the sense you want this baby... and I don’t think you have to choose one or the other.”

“I—I do want it.”

I close my eyes, stomach knotting over all the times I wondered if the pregnancy would stick. Thinking all my problems would’ve been solved if it hadn’t.

“God. I actually thought I might be a better mom than I had, but I failed before I even got started,” I say, unable to hold back the tears any longer. I gesture at the hospital bed, the machines, the whole ER outside the curtain. “I couldn’t even keep the baby safe long enough to be born.”

My somber mood is interrupted by a commotion coming from the hall. At first I think another trauma case must be coming in, but then I hear shouts and arguing over the other medical chaos. And a moment later, a familiar voice yells, “Let me see my fucking wife!”

Then the curtain whips aside, and Anton’s standing framed in the door, looking worried, and injured, and wild-eyed. His gaze meets mine as soon as they register me, then dips down to where my hands rest over the sheet—taking inventory of our whole family.

“Sir!” A breathless security guard crowds into the doorway and gestures around. “We can only allow one family member at a time.”

Anton and I look at each other, then Caprice clears her throat. “Um, I might’ve said I was your wife so they’d let me in.” She rises from her chair and kisses my cheek with a half-smile. “I’ll give you some time with your husband now.” I watch her exit, nodding at Seth hanging back in the hall. The security guard follows. And then there’s just Anton and me.

“Are you okay? I—I just need you to be all right.” His voice comes out broken.

My lip trembles. “I think I am, but...”

We stare at each other for a breath, both of us trying to express so much with just our eyes. And then he’s reaching around all the cords and IV tubes, pulling me to him, clutching me to his chest. A machine comes unplugged and starts beeping, but I don’t care. He smells so good—musky and earthy, and like home, and I just want to close my eyes and pretend that’s exactly where we are.

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