Page 22 of Midnight and Mine

Picking up the journal, I hand it to her.

“I thought you could write down your feelings or memories; maybe it would help you tie them together.”

She reaches down to scratch under her cast and yelps. “Damn, everything inside me hurts, and it sucks not being able reach the spot that itches.”

“I’m sure the nurse can give you more pain medication.”

“I’ll tough it out until after the doctor comes. I want to be clear headed. I’m growing a baby, you know?”

“I do. How do you feel about being pregnant?”

“Honestly, I’m sad that I don’t remember getting pregnant.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I catch a glimpse of my strong-willed, funny wife. “I’m frustrated that I can’t remember hearing her first heartbeat or seeing that first ultrasound. But overall, I was meant to have this baby. I feel like a nurturer. Am I?”

I laugh again. Damn, it feels so good to laugh. “It wouldn’t be the first adjective I would use to describe you, but you are the most loving person I’ve ever known.”

“Loving seems the same as nurturing.”

“You are just … you. Do you like the journal?”

“I love it. It’s beautiful. I love the colors, green and purple. I’ll write in it when I get a moment alone.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Stay until Drake gets here.”

Fuck that. I’m thisbaby’s father, and I’ll be in here with her even if Drake is as well.

The nurse asks me to leave for a moment so she can give Wynter a sponge bath. I want to say I’ll do it, but that would shock Wynter. But maybe it would help her remember since I washed her in the shower the day of her accident.

Fortunately, I see Dr. Laura Breadwell at the nurse’s desk. When she finishes giving directions for another patient, she turns to me, and her smile slips. “Scott, I’m sorry this is happening to you and Wynter.”

I stuff my hands in my sweatpants pockets and tighten my jaw. “We’ll get through it.”

“That’s the attitude to have because you will. But there’s a fine line for Wynter. She may want privacy and not want you in there since she doesn’t know you’re her husband. If she wants you to leave, I’ll have to follow her request. But I’ll inform you of everything.”

“Got it. I have no control over anything right now.”

She gives me a commiserating smile. “I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you in the room.”

“Thanks, Laura.”

Laura Breadwell went to school with us. She always had her nose stuck in a book. She was popular with her crowd and was always voted on homecoming courts but never won. When we got pregnant, Wynter insisted that we give her our baby business, convinced that someone who knew us would take better care of the baby. Well, now I’m certain it was divine intervention. Laura Breadwell was placed in our life for this moment—to help me navigate the situation.

She taps on the door to Wynter’s room. “Are you finished bathing?”

Nurse Nancy says, “Come in. We’re finished.”

I wait to see if Wynter recognizes Laura, but there’s no hint of recognition.

“You had quite a bad fall. How are you doing?” Laura asks as she sits on the rotating stool.

“I’m alive and in all kinds of pain.”

“Yeah, she didn’t want any pain medication until we saw you today,” I chime in.

The doctor swivels to the nurse. “Go ahead and give her medication. It won’t kick in until we’re finished. The last thing the baby needs is for her mama to be in pain and even more uncomfortable.”

Nurse Nancy scurries out while Laura checks her vitals by hand, even though the machines are doing it also. She lifts her gown, revealing her hard, round belly that is bruised on one side. I suck in a gasp at the discoloration. Placing the stethoscope on Wynter’s belly, she listens.

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