He pushes the button for the elevator five times, and I just hold tight to his other hand and watch as the numbers count down at the top of the cart doors at a painfully slow pace.
My emotions are a mixed bag of wanting it to move faster along with wanting it never to come.
When it finally arrives with a ding, Ty barely lets the doors part before pulling us both inside and mashing the number four with the same manic intensity as before.
It’s startling to me just how little it seems I know about him after this many months of working together and multiple days of sleeping together. Sure, I knew he had a family and assumed that he was marginally close with them, but this isn’t the behavior of a man who calls his mom once a month and sees his siblings at the holidays.
This is the behavior of a man who’s involved. A man whocaresabout family.
An unexpected sting of tears rushes to my eyes as my mom’s soothing voice plays through my ears.I know you don’t understand now, sweetie, but the love of the right man is like a warm blanket. It’s not about small differences or political beliefs or the dramatic theater of the movies. It’s about a man who cares. A man who you know would devote his life to family above all else. A man whose presence is all you need to feel complete.
Those were the lessons, she said, I had tolearn ahead of my time. The lessons she wanted to instill before she was gone.
On days like today, when I’m feeling as confused as I ever have, I miss her so much it feels like there’s a permanent hole in my heart.
The elevator’s journey to the fourth floor ends with a swoosh in both the cart and my belly, and I take a deep, deep breath to prepare.
Ty moves with ease down the halls, pulling me behind him until we find the room with the plaque outside that reads “Waiting Room.”
We’re inside before I can even do another breathing exercise, and the sheer number of people is immediately overwhelming. Rachel Green is no longer the only Rachel to find herself doing life in nothing more than an undergarment. I mean, thankfully I have a coat, but holy red velvet muffins in a handbasket, I hope like fuck no one offers to take it. This might just be one of the scariest moments of my life.
Buckle up, Rachel. Here we go.
Rachel
All the heads in the waiting room whip in our direction and move almost comically—and quickly—from me to Ty and hold on him. I fight the urge to curl up in a ball behind his body and stay rooted to my spot beside him, forcing my shoulders down and away from my ears.
When no attention comes back to me, instead focusing on Ty alone, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I step a little closer to Ty without even thinking about it.
I suppose it makes sense that they’d be focused on him instead of me, but the potency of it feels…weird. I don’t know, I can’t explain it.
“Ty!” a large, similar-looking man shouts from the other side of the room, combing his way through the crowd and dragging a lithe, absolutely stunning brunette behind him. She’s the beautiful model to his strikingly handsome and well-dressed demeanor, and I have an immediate sense that this must be one of Ty’s brothers and his significant other.
Shoving through people when he has to—it’s practically fucking standing room only in here—he finally makes it to us and slaps Ty on the shoulder. “Hey, man.”
“Fuck hey. Do we know anything about Daisy yet?”
The tall dreamboat shakes his head, his mouth pulling down in a frown. I can tell by the way his skin stretches that being unhappy is a completely infrequent occurrence for him.A lot like Ty.
Maybe the happy-go-lucky thing runs in the family?
“Nothing. Flynn went back there over an hour ago for an emergency C-section. The first baby was breech. And then the second started having issues with his heart rate. I guess the doctors were pretty firm about C-section being the only option. Daisy was upset.”
My mind immediately rallies itself, searching for something to put all the scary words from Ty’s brother to sleep. I don’t know a lot of people with kids, but I’ve had two cousins both have C-sections within the last couple of years, one of them being emergent, and they both turned out fine. I know going this route is scary and major surgery, but I think C-sections are pretty standard practice these days. If you ask me, it’s at least a modicum of comfort.
Still, I don’t dare say anything—thanks to the overwhelming feeling that I probably shouldn’t be here in the first place. If it were just Ty and me, I might mention it, but taking the audience with his brother and the woman I’m assuming is his significant other into account, things feel different. I’m an outsider. They’re not looking for comfort from me. Especially since no one has said anything to me yet. I get the feeling they’d rather I say nothing at all, and it’s starting to feel a little awkward.
I know they’re all worried about Ty’s sister-in-law, so I’m trying not to read too much into it, but I thought maybe I’d get a hello or a wave from the woman at Ty’s brother’s arm or something.Just like the essay section on the test last week, it’s almost as if they can’t see me.
The speaker crackles with a page for one of the doctors on the intercom, and everyone gets briefly quiet to listen. I think they’re all well aware that they’re not actually going to hear any news over that thing, but I know in times of distress, it can be hard to think rationally.
Scooting closer to Ty, I try not to notice the cloying, almost suffocating hospital smell. I know this isn’t the hospital where my mom died, and that this doesn’t even have anything to do with me, but the olfactory memory of watching her struggle in her final days is knocking a little too loudly on each and every one of my mind’s doors.
“Paging Dr. Olsen to room 611. Paging Dr. Olsen.” When the speaker quiets, the tension in the room seems to get even thicker. Ty, however, startles before pulling me nearly in front of him and waving a hand between his brother and me. “Rachel, this is my youngest brother, Jude. Jude, this is Rachel.”
I hold out my free hand for an awkward shake and pull my mouth into a self-conscious grin. “Nice to meet you, but I’m really sorry for the circumstances.”
“Rachel,” Jude says, his eyes widening in a way I can’t quite read before turning to the woman at his arm and smiling. “This isRachel, Sophie.” My eyebrows draw together at the odd emphasis on my name, and Sophie rolls her eyes before holding out a hand to me for another awkward lefty shake.