Page 94 of Her Wild Coast Promise

Every cell in my body reacts at once. “What?” I shake my head, hoping to make the room stop spinning. “Wait…was?”

She blinks back tears, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “It’s not what I wanted either.”

“Cora,” I say, my voice firm. I reach for her hand. Grasping her slender fingers in mine, I move closer so I can hold it against my chest. “Tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

Her lips tremble and she swipes fresh tears from her cheeks. “It’s called an ectopic pregnancy. It happens when an egg gets fertilized not where it’s supposed to. They caught it early enough that I just have to…” She sucks in a sob, then clenches her eyes shut, as if completing this thought is taking all of her energy. “…take a medication and it will go away.”

Way back in my academy training we had a crash course on medical complications that require immediate intervention and pregnancy and childbirth got fifteen whole minutes.

“Go away, as in…end it?”

Cora starts crying again.

Emotions I don’t understand rise through me, stripping me painfully bare. My breathing turns ragged and a chill prickles my skin.

“You shouldn’t have had to go through all of that…alone,” I manage, pressing my lips to the back of her hand.

“But the campaign,” she says.

“I don’t care about the campaign.” I toe off my shoes and toss my coat on the chair.

She shakes her head, her face distraught. “Seth, you don’t have to be here.”

I gently lift the covers so I can climb in next to her. “I want to be here.”

To my relief, she curls against me, wrapping her arm across my chest. I kiss her forehead and stroke her brow and temple.

“I hate that you went through all of this alone,” I say.

She sniffles against my shoulder. “You were a little busy.”

“Like that matters,” I say, and kiss her forehead again.

I inhale and release a long, slow breath. Having her next to me has lowered my blood pressure several notches, but it’s not a complete fix. What I’m feeling inside is probably nothing compared to what she’s going through. If I could switch places with her, I would do it in a heartbeat.

“I hear the debate was a smashing success.” She wipes her cheeks.

I plant another kiss on her head. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

“How did the press conference afterwards go?”

“I didn’t give it.”

“What?” she pulls back from my embrace to stare me down. Even with her puffy eyes and pale cheeks, she takes my breath away. “You need to.”

“It can wait,” I say, and caress the side of her face. I tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “This is more important.”

Her eyes turned pained and her mouth tenses, like she wants to say something.

“What matters to me is making sure you’re all right.”

“I will be,” she says in a soft voice. “They say my body will heal in a few weeks. The grieving process takes longer.”

My nose stings and heat pricks my eyes but I swallow it down. “It’s like we lost a baby, isn’t it?”

She strokes the side of my face. “A little bit.”

“I’m so sorry, Cora.”

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