Page 57 of Written in the Charts

CHAPTERFORTY-TWO

Gypsy

I pried my eyes open, blinking several times. The hum of machines and the beeping of the heart monitor reminded me that I was in the hospital long before my brain had a chance to register the sights. I was groggy from the medicine they’d given me to ease the panic attack. My eyes shot to the machine positioned next to the head of my bed with the heart monitor readout for the baby. I’d tried to get them to leave it running while I slept, but they told me I’d sleep more soundly if they turned the volume down.

The regular spikes of the ink on the lined paper told me that every single heartbeat in my little guy’s chest was captured and recorded. It helped ease some of my fears, but not all of them. The very fact that I was in this place was reason enough to fear. A nurse had performed an ultrasound, telling me the sex of the baby without even asking whether I wanted to know, but she wasn’t licensed to tell me the results, so I lay there waiting for Derek to come in and give me the news.

I rolled over, expecting to see my mother seated by the window, but instead I saw Evan. He held the letter I had written him and sealed in a brown envelope. It detailed everything—the first miscarriage, my therapy from that, my worry about grades and tutoring with Cameron, and even the fact that Cameron had covered for me instead of turning me in when he found out about me and Evan. I hadn’t intended for him to read it while he was sitting next to me. I had hoped my mom would give it to him separately so he’d have time to digest what was in the letter. I was honestly shocked that he was even in the room with me. I didn’t think he would come.

“Hey,” I mumbled, turning all the way to lie on my left side so I could face him.

Evan looked up, tears in his eyes. He sighed and folded the paper up, sliding it back into the envelope. He’d been crying, though I wasn’t sure why. He’d been so angry with me over everything, I didn’t even know how he felt about me or the baby. In fact, he hadn’t even told me whether he was happy that I was pregnant. He’d been in his own world for so long it was hard to know what he was thinking.

“Hey.” He set the letter to the side and stood, pulling his chair closer to the bed. When he sat, he scooped up my hand, careful not to disturb the IV, and laced his fingers between mine. He stared at me, his eyes searching my face. I didn’t know what to say to him or why he was here. I hadn’t even told my mother to call him. When she asked, I wrestled with the decision, but they drugged me and I passed out.

But here he was, waiting for me to wake up as if he had nothing better in the world to do than to sit by my side. “Shouldn’t you be working?” I asked, allowing him to toy with my fingers, his thumb strumming them like guitar strings.

He shrugged. “I got leave.”

“You didn’t have to come. I know you don’t want to be here.”

Evan’s face popped up, a frown stretched across it. “Gypsy, I’m sorry.”

I expected some excuse or explanation, his reason for why all of this was my fault and how he was going to give me another chance. What was this? Number twenty now? But he was quiet, offering only an apology. Tension thickened the air, our eyes locked and not blinking.

“Sorry for coming? Sorry this happened? Sorry for what?”

“For being an asshole.” His face dropped. “Again.”

I wanted that apology to be sincere, but he’d apologized before and had acted the same way. I didn’t know how to react. So I lay there, waiting for him to say more. He didn’t look up, and I swore I saw tears dropping to the bedsheet below his face. And when he kissed the back of my hand, I felt the moisture land on my skin and my suspicion was confirmed.

“I read your letter. I believe all of it. And I’m sorry you’re here in this place again, scared. I understand now why you kept it from me, the fear of this very thing happening. I understand how my insecurities and past issues made me very untrusting and how you were only trying to navigate your own emotional pain.

“I’m sorry that I let another woman ruin this relationship, and I understand if you never forgive me for that. I accused you of cheating when in reality, it was my own heart that cheated on you.”

I bristled, ready for him to say he’d had an affair because I didn’t understand what he was saying. I tried to withdraw my hand from his, but he squeezed so hard I thought he’d make the IV pop out.

“Listen,” he continued, “I let Misty and her baggage come in and crowd out the space in my heart where trust for you should have lived. She took up residence there, and every time I wanted to love you the way you deserve, that baggage she left told me that you weren’t to be trusted. I blamed you for the painshecaused me, and I was wrong.”

“I love you, Evan. I made you a promise, and I will keep it until the day I die.” My own eyes welled up, ready to confess how much I loved him, but he interrupted me.

“You don’t have to do a paternity test.”

“I’ve already started the process. You just have to do a blood draw and they’ll complete it. It will be done in twenty-four hours or less.” I sighed, realizing the ball was rolling and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I had been so angry with him after our argument a few days ago that I made Derek start the process. There was no way in hell he was getting off easy and not supporting me. I felt badly now for doing that, but at least maybe it would give him peace of mind.

"Knock, knock,” a voice called. Derek peeked his head into the room, followed by my mother, who brought two cups of coffee, one for herself and the other she handed to Evan. “Look who I found in the family room.”

I smiled. “She’s trouble, you know. You have to watch out. She’ll sneak me some pudding when all I’m supposed to have are ice chips.” The old maternity ward humor never got old. Mom chuckled and sat next to Evan.

“We have a name for those pesky folks. They’re called mothers...” Derek grinned and nodded at Evan. “Good to see you, Evan.”

“Derek.” Evan’s hand never left mine. It felt reassuring that he wouldn’t leave my side.

“So, what’s the news?” I bit my lip, turning to my back to look up at him.

“Well, it’s not the best case, but it’s not the worst case, either. And before you hear the diagnosis, I want you to take a deep breath and know that absolutely nothing is wrong with the baby and I won’t let anything bad happen. Your little boy is going to be healthy and strong, and likely, he will come a few weeks early because he’s a big boy.” Derek winked, but the gesture didn’t settle my heart.

“What’s wrong?” Evan straightened, squaring his shoulders. He always took bad news head on. I liked that about him.

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