Page 10 of Surprise Quadruplets for the Mob

“We’ve all come here because we share something in common—each of us has been touched in some way by this terrible disease. Every day is a challenge,” I continue, meeting the eyes of each participant. “But we’re here to support one another, to share our experiences, and to make progress together.”

Nods and murmurs of agreement fill the room. A woman near me speaks up, her voice trembling. “My son was just diagnosed last week. I don’t know what to do or how to help him.”

“Coming here was a good first step,” I say, reaching out to touch her hand gently. “You aren’t alone in this struggle, and neither is your son. Maggie and I have put together some resources that should be helpful. Just remember we’re all here for you. We’re all one big, extended family now.”

As I offer words of encouragement and guidance, my thoughts drift momentarily to Alec, the man I met at a fundraiser two months ago. I remember the night vividly—the story about his friend, the way his green eyes bored into mine,the feel of his strong arms around me. God, has it really been two months? I can still smell his cologne like it was last night.

“Abby?” Maggie’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Do you want to mention the next meeting and the bake sale?”

“Right,” I say, shaking off the memory. Maggie’s been pulling back more and more from all the speeches and direct public facing roles, partly because of her pregnancy—she and her husband, Michael, have just found out they’re expecting twins—and partly because she wants to pull away from that role entirely and leave it to me, so she can focus more on the back end of the business. I strengthen my PR smile and continue. “We’re hosting another fundraising event next month. It’s crucial to raise awareness and funds for research. Your involvement could make a real difference.”

The meeting wraps up with people exchanging hugs, phone numbers, and tearful thanks. As I watch them leave, I can’t help but think about Alec again. We shared a passionate night together, and then he vanished without a trace. And even though I’ve tried to put all my thoughts about him behind me, I haven’t been able to shake him off.

“You okay, sis?” Maggie looks a little more worried this time. “You seem like you’re a million miles away today.”

“I’m good.” I nod, forcing a small smile. “Just got lost in my thoughts for a moment.” Even as I say the words, a wave of nausea washes over me, and I struggle to steady my breathing. My vision blurs, and I feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. “Actually, I, um…I might need a minute.”

“What in the world? What’s wrong?” Her eyes are wide and she’s looking at me like I’ve grown a second head as she quickly guides me to a nearby chair. “Do I need to call the doctor?”

“Everything is spinning. I think I’m going to be sick.” The room tilts, and I lurch forward, vomiting into a nearby trash can. The sudden feverish heat that engulfs my body leaves me trembling and lightheaded.

“Okay, that’s it. We need to get you to the hospital. Now.” She helps me up from the chair, supporting my weight as we make our way outside. “Just hold on, okay? You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

I know it’s a promise she might not be able to keep, but it still makes me feel better as we race to the hospital. True to her word, she’s staying right by my side, ushering me into the waiting room where the harsh fluorescent lights only exacerbate my pounding headache. Maggie is gripping my hand tightly, her worry palpable even though she hasn’t said much.

“Abby?” A man’s voice calls out, and I look up to see Booker Carlson striding towards us. He’s a popular blogger with ARPKD and has been following our support group for some time now. He’s a nice enough guy, but he’s really the last person I want to see right now—particularly because he always has a camera in hand and is always looking for an excuse to use it.

“Booker,” I manage to say weakly, attempting a smile. “What brings you here?”

“I’m here to get some tests done.” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “You know, the usual stuff. ARPKD is a bitch, but what can we do?” He looks me up and down and shakes his head. “Speaking of getting some tests done, you look like hell. Are you okay?”

“Thank you,” I swallow hard, trying to keep the bile down, “for your concern. We’re just waiting to see a doctor.”

“Of course,” Booker replies, his eyes flicking between Maggie and me. I wish he’d leave, but I have a sinking feeling he’s just getting warmed up. “You know, Abby, people really look up to you and your sister. Your dedication to the cause is inspiring.”

“Appreciate that, Booker,” Maggie chimes in, her voice tight. “But we’re—”

“Anything I can do to help, just say the word,” he interrupts, then holds up his camera. “Mind if I snap a few pictures of you two for my blog?” He’s already pointing the camera at us. “My followers love when I post updates of the two of you.”

“Uh, sure,” Maggie agrees hesitantly, shooting me a concerned glance. I force myself to sit up straighter and try to look composed despite my discomfort.

“Great!” Booker says and begins positioning us just so—Maggie’s arm draped around my shoulders, our faces angled towards each other, concern etched on our brows. He snaps away, his eagerness for a good shot all too palpable.

“Tell me about your latest fundraising event,” he prompts, the camera still clicking away. “The masquerade ball? How did it turn out?”

“Um.” I pause, struggling to focus. “It went well. We raised a decent amount of money for research and support services.”

“Abby Foxworthy?” A nurse comes to the rescue, calling my name. Relief washes over me, momentarily drowning out the nausea.

“Excuse us, Booker,” Maggie says tersely, practically carrying me towards the examination room.

“Can’t wait to hear more later!” he calls after us.

Inside the sterile room, Dr. Laura Mitchell introduces herself as she reviews my chart. Her calming presence helps me relax slightly as she methodically checks my vitals and orders a round of blood tests.

“Let’s run an ultrasound as well, just to rule out anything serious,” Dr. Mitchell suggests. I nod, willing to do whatever it takes to get some answers.

As the cold gel is spread across my abdomen, I grip Maggie’s hand tightly, trying not to think about the possible outcomes. The screen flickers to life, displaying a green, grainy image that I can’t begin to decipher.

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