Page 111 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

“Will do.”

Regan is loaded into the back of the ambulance and I crawl in after her and take her hand. “We’re lucky you fainted,” I say.

“Lucky? How’s that?”

“Well, I’d probably be in police custody if you hadn’t because I’d have killed that motherfucker.”

A half-grin brings out one of her dimples. Then she rubs her belly. “I just hope he’s okay. Why do you think I fainted?”

I shrug. “Stress, I suppose. Ryder said your BP was already getting up there.”

Her eyes close tightly and the fingers of her right hand pinch her brow. “My head hurts.”

I look at Jessica. “She’s developed preeclampsia, hasn’t she?”

“Highly probable,” she says. “We’ve called ahead. Dr. Russo is already on her way to the hospital. You’ll know more then.”

My worst fear is happening. I thought we had it under control. But now… all the horrible things I’ve read about the condition sweep through my mind. Organ damage. Stroke. Stillborn baby. Maternal death.

I’ve never been so scared in my fucking life.

I’ll rip that David asshole apart limb by limb if anything happens to either of them.

Dr. Russo is already in the ambulance bay when we arrive. Regan is taken to a room in the emergency department where they hook her up to all kinds of monitors.

I tell the doctor about David.

“The stress from the situation may have caused a temporary spike in blood pressure. If it doesn’t come down soon, though, we may be looking at an early delivery.”

“She’s only thirty-four weeks.”

The doctor nods. “The baby will be small. At thirty-four weeks, he’ll be late preterm. Late preterm babies may look and act like full term babies, but they aren’t fully developed. They are at higher risk, but they usually do well in the long run.” Dr. Russo continues to diagnose Regan out loud. I know she’s doing it so I have all the info as well, but it’s not doing anything for my blood pressure either. “Regan is currently presenting preeclampsia with severe features, which is to say not only is her blood pressure high, but she’s also experiencing headaches, visual impairments, and has swelling.”

She turns away from me. “Regan, just to be safe, we’re going to administer steroids to encourage fetal lung maturity. We’ll also put you on an IV with antihypertensives.” She takes Regan’s hand. “If we can’t get things under control by this evening, we’ll use Cervidil to ripen your cervix overnight and then Pitocin in the morning to induce labor.”

Regan’s eyes go wide. “You want me to have the babytomorrow?”

“It’s the safest option for both of you if we can’t get the preeclampsia under control.”

There is a whirlwind of activity. Regan is hooked up to more things. An ultrasound is done which brings a modicum of relief knowing he’s okay… for now. And we get moved up to labor and delivery.

When things calm down and it’s just the two of us, I ask, “Would you mind if I step out and make a few calls. I need to update Ryder and my family. You want me to call Maddie and Ava?”

She nods, her lip quivering. It’s the first time I’ve ever really seen her show fear. Well, if you don’t count two hours ago when she was being confronted by that cat killer.

I squeeze her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

I swallow hard and stare at her for a long moment. I swear for a second in the shop, when she was lifeless on the floor, I thought I’d lost her. I thought I’d lost them both. And my future flashed before me. My empty, pathetic, lonely future. One without the child I’ve come to long for much more than I dreamed possible. Without the woman I love so much that it hurts every time we’re together and I can’t tell her.

Tell her.

“Regan, I…” I close my eyes, determined not to make this moment about me and what I want. Because there’s just so much more at stake here. “I know this is scary. But it’s going to work out. I don’t know how I know, but it is. I promise.”

A tear slips from her eye. “I think so too. I had a dream earlier.” She touches her stomach. “About him. Mitchell. It was Christmas and he was two. You were holding him. He had on these ridiculous Grinch jammies.”

I laugh, tears caught in my throat. “Of course he did. You’re his mom.”

She wipes her tears, and I follow the motion of her hand, thinking I should be doing it.I’mthe one who should be wiping her tears. I should be kissing her forehead. Hell, I should be sitting on the bed beside her and wrapping her in my arms.

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