Page 112 of Pregnant in Plaid
"You'll be fine," Gage says, but his voice sounds suspiciously gruff.
"Brooklyn," Tessa repeats through tears. "That's perfect. That's—" She stops, wiping her eyes. "Can I meet her? I mean, officially meet her now that she has a name?"
"Visiting hours are from six to eight tonight," I recite. "But yes. We'll all go together."
"Perfect." Tessa composes herself, though her eyes are still shiny. "And how are you two holding up? Actually holding up, not the polite answer you give nurses."
Patrice and I exchange a look.
"We're exhausted," Patrice admits. "Terrified. Overwhelmed. She's so small, and there are so many wires, and what if something goes wrong?—"
"Nothing's going to go wrong," I interrupt gently. "Dr. Martinez said she's doing great. Gaining weight. Breathing on her own. All good signs."
"I know. I just—" Patrice breaks off, shoving a cookie in her mouth instead of finishing the sentence.
"You're allowed to be scared," Tessa says. "You're both allowed to be scared. This is scary."
"Former Army Ranger," Gage points out. "Probably been through scarier."
"Nothing's scarier than this," I say honestly. "Nothing."
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the four of us, eating Marnie's cookies and drinkingcoffee that's probably violating some kind of hospital caffeine policy.
"So," Gage finally says. "Are they letting you guys go home soon, or are you planning to move into the hospital permanently?"
"They offered to discharge me yesterday," Patrice says. "I refused."
"She's not leaving without Brooklyn," I explain.
"Neither are you, apparently," Gage observes. "Saw you sleeping in that chair last night. Can't be good for your back."
"My back is fine."
"You're like six-four. That chair is made for people the size of Tessa."
"Hey," Tessa protests.
"You know what I mean." Gage turns back to me. "Seriously. You two need to take care of yourselves, too. Brooklyn needs healthy parents."
He's not wrong. We've been taking turns sleeping in hospital chairs, eating whatever people bring us, and generally living like refugees in a medical facility.
"The nurses said Brooklyn might be here for two more weeks," Patrice says quietly. "Maybe three. I can't just... leave her here alone."
"She won't be alone," Tessa points out. "She's got round-the-clock nurse care. The best in the state, according to Dr. Martinez."
"I know. But I'm her mother. I should be here."
I reach for Patrice's hand again. "We'll figureit out. Maybe we can split shifts. I'll do mornings, you do afternoons, we both do evenings?"
"And you'll actually go back to the cabin and sleep in a real bed?" Patrice asks skeptically.
"If you will."
She considers this, worrying her bottom lip. "Okay. Deal. But if anything happens?—"
"They'll call us immediately," I promise. "We're only fifteen minutes away."
"More like ten if Trace drives," Gage mutters.
