Page 78 of All Your Firsts Without Me

He thumps her on the end of her nose. “Come on, smartass,” he teases, helping her to sit up.

I crouch down beside them, my fingers sifting through her hair.

“Why don’t we get her in the car and let her eat,” Jeff suggests. When we get her to her feet, however, she doubles over, getting sick.

Jeff shakes his head. “Second thought. Let’s take her to the ER.”

I give him a horrified look. He’s worried and he’s a doctor. Which means I should be worried.

“It’s just a precaution since she lost consciousness,” he tries to reassure me.

We follow Jeff and Teresa to the hospital. April still looks green. “I’m fine, Westin. I didn’t eat all day and that was… well, watching someone die is… hard. But I’m fine. Really. Quit worrying.”

A nurse takes April back in a wheelchair, Jeff following behind them.

Teresa sits down beside me. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she says, looking about as confident as I feel. Which is not at all.

The minutes tick by at an increasingly slow pace.

“Westin,” Jeff calls from the door April disappeared behind.

I stand as he waves his hand for me to follow him. He offers Teresa a tight smile as he waits for me. Once I reach him, he leads me down a brightly lit hallway, talking to me over his shoulder, “The doctor found something. April’s asking for you to be with her.”

I stop dead in my tracks. Jeff keeps walking. She is sick.

I can’t live without her.

Suddenly, I get a tiny glimpse at how April must have felt losing David.

Jeff realizes I’m not following. “It’s okay, Westin. Follow me,” he urges me forward.

I need to be strong for her. Taking a deep breath, I follow him. When we get to April’s room, another doctor, a petite woman, waits for us. “Ready?” she asks.

Jeff nods, ushering me in front of him.

The door opens and I find April sitting on the table with a gown draped over her shoulders and a paper blanket across her legs. Her bottom lip quivers when she sees me. It’s then I realize Jeff and the other doctor didn’t follow me in.

I rush to her side. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”

Tears stream down her face as she turns to the screen beside her. “The doctor found this,” she points to an image on the screen.

I stare at the monitor. Is it a tumor? What am I looking at?

“It’s our baby,” she says quietly, reading my mind.

Wait. What did she say?

My gaze slides to April’s. Golden eyes shine with nothing but love for me.

“But we’ve been using…”

She presses a finger over my lips, holding it there. “It happened before. The doctor said that what I thought was my period was more than likely spotting. I’m almost three months along.”

I lean forward and press my forehead to hers. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yes. A hundred times yes,” she whispers over my lips.

She’s happy. Really happy.

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