Page 37 of Love Unexpected

"Shit. How did they even find out Emma is in the hospital?" I shoot back.

"No clue. I’ll find out later. They're in the room with Emma now. I had to step out into the waiting room because there were too many people. But what do I say if they start asking questions about the baby? They know you're obviously not the father—"

"Give me a minute to think,” I interrupt sharply, pulling over and placing the car in park. I lean my head against the coolleather of the steering wheel. "I don't think it's a good idea for me to show up with the baby. I can't risk them trying to take her away," I think out loud.

"I agree. I can stay with Emma all day, but I need to know what to say when they start asking questions." The panic in Marcus's voice rises, making my panic rise along with it.

"Maybe you won't even have to speak with them,” I muse, thinking through different possibilities. “The ICU won't let everyone in the room at the same time, and I doubt they will stick around all day. Just hang tight until they leave, then you can slip back into her room. Try to avoid being seen by them at all costs."

I hang up the phone with Marcus and put the car in drive. With a plan in mind, I head toward downtown.

———

"I'll take these two," I say, gesturing to a delicate pair of his and hers rings.

"Excellent choice. She is one lucky lady," the sales attendant replies, flashing a cheeky wink at me. I internally roll my eyes at her bold gesture, feeling uncomfortable at a woman’s attention for the first time in my life. Here I am with a newborn baby strapped to my chest, purchasing wedding rings for God’s sake, and she still has the nerve to flirt with me. Unbelievable.

"I don't need a bag,” I say curtly.

I slide the cool metal ring onto my finger, and imagine the possible future. But underneath that dream lies the cold, hard reality of our situation. If it comes down to it, I'll lie and say we're married. They have no reason to believe otherwise, and they certainly can't take the baby away in that scenario—she would legally be mine.

I slip the velvet box containing Emma's ring into my pocket, feeling the weight against my thigh as I head back out into the warm summer heat. The street is alive with the hum of nearby chatter and children laughing in the distance. It’s a beautiful day, yet the constant knot in my chest refuses to let me enjoy it.

———

Sitting at Emma’s kitchen table, I sift through emails and map out tasks for my staff. I find myself having a hard time focusing, my heart just isn’t in it anymore. The hotel project I’d been working so hard for, means nothing to me now. How could I care about a measly job when Emma and the baby’s lives have been turned upside down?

Much to my surprise, Lucas's parents ended up staying at the hospital the entire day. They only stepped away when they needed to grab a bite to eat. The baby and I stayed at home, and I checked in with Marcus every hour.

"They're still here. I'll let you know when they leave," Marcus answered each time.

But when visiting hours ended and Marcus had to leave, the all-consuming ache in my chest intensified. I hated that Emma was alone at night. It broke my heart to stay away from her during the day, but the nighttime was far worse.

What if she could hear us in her sleep, feel our presence, and she was left wondering why she didn't hear my voice or why the baby wasn't nestled against her chest today?

Tomorrow, after the baby's appointment, I would go to the hospital no matter what. I wouldn’t be able to endure one more day like this.

Gently swaddling the baby after a feeding and diaper change, I place her in the crib and turn on the mobile. The tune of a lullaby plays softly. "Goodnight, baby girl," I whisper, caressing her soft cheek with the back of my hand.

Snatching a blanket and pillow from the bedroom, I head to the couch. It’s getting harder to sleep in the bed without Emma, it’s getting harder to be in this house without her too.

Closing my eyes, I notice the depressing silence of the house. I drift off to sleep pretty quickly. But even in my dreams, my mind is filled with vivid details of Emma—Emma crying, Emma laughing, Emma hugging me.

———

"She looks perfectly healthy, Dad," the pediatrician reassures me. "Her weight is perfect. You're doing a great job."She wraps the baby back up in the blanket and then hands her off to me. I glance down, my heart swells every time I look at her and see a mini Emma looking back at me. "We are praying for her mother every day,” she adds.

"Thank you," I croak. I still don't know how to respond when people give me that look, their eyes full of pity and questions. They mean well, I know they do, but I don't want to talk about it with strangers. The pain is too raw, too fresh.

The pediatrician gives me a soft smile, sensing my discomfort. "If you have any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to call any time. We’re here to help.” She pauses, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, you can check out at the front desk and they will schedule her next appointment.”

I gently cradle the baby against me and make my way to the receptionist. After a quick exchange, the bill is paid, and the appointment is set for this time next month.

Driving home, my mind starts to spiral with “what ifs.” My grip tightens around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as the questions relentlessly pop into my head. What if she doesn’t wake up for months? What if she never wakes up? At what point do I reach out to her parents and let them know what’s going on? How did Lucas’s parents find out about Emma before her own parents? That tells me all I need to know about them.

I push the devastating thoughts aside, finally arriving back at Emma’s house. The house is both comforting andpainful, it’s an unsettling feeling. Careful not to wake the baby, I enter the house and move quietly towards the nursery to lay her down. I want her to sleep comfortably before we go up to the hospital for the rest of the day.

Unable to pierce the fog hanging over me, I just stare blankly out the window. The grass, trees, the cars, and houses, they’re all blurred together. My unfocused vision is exactly what my mind feels like these days. I'm just going through the motions, not actually seeing what's around me.

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