Chapter 4

Joel glanced at my suitcase. He didn’t ask why I was at the hospital.

“Give Lily the room,” he said. “She’s having complications.”

“I need a room, too.”

He gave a short laugh. “For what? There’s nothing wrong with you. Lily’s always been delicate. Why are you fighting her over a bed?”

Before I could answer, Lillian snatched the overnight bag off the chair beside me. She yanked the zipper open and tipped it sideways. A tiny shirt fell out first. Then the rest slid onto the floor.

“What are these, Pauline? Rags?”

She nudged the shirt with the toe of her shoe. I’d sewn the cuffs twice because the first time I’d made them too narrow.

“Joel ordered a whole wardrobe for our baby. Everything’s custom-made.” She looked down at the clothes. “I suppose you could call these handmade, too.”

She stepped on them and laughed.

Joel watched her. “Come on, Lily. Forget about her. Let’s get you settled.”

For six months, I’d sewn a little at a time. Some nights I’d stopped after three stitches because my eyes were closing. I’d left the basket beside the bed so I could pick up where I’d left off in the morning. Now there was a wet shoe print across the smallest shirt.

I stood up slowly.

“Take the suite,” I said. “I can recover in the general ward.”

Joel frowned. He’d been ready to argue, and I’d given him nothing to argue about.

“Smart of you,” he said.

He put his arm around Lillian and took her down the hall. She looked back once. Her smile stayed in place until they turned the corner.

Dr. Finch waited until their footsteps faded. “Admissions cleared the paperwork,” she said. “We can go whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

The doors closed behind me.

The induction lasted three hours. I remember the cold and Dr. Finch offering me her hand. I gripped the sheet instead. There came a point when all I could think about was getting through the next breath.

I’d spent five years thinking there would always be one more thing to say to Joel. At that moment, I couldn’t think of anything.

When they wheeled me out, Dr. Finch walked beside the bed. She kept one hand over mine.

“Ms. Sullivan,” she said quietly. “He was a boy. Would you like to see him?”

I closed my eyes. I’d known there would be a moment when she asked. I’d rehearsed an answer and still couldn’t get it out.

“No,” I managed. “Please take care of him for me.”

If I looked, I knew I’d ask to hold him. I didn’t know how I’d put him down again.

Two hours later, I got out of bed in the general observation ward and changed into my own clothes. I stopped halfway through buttoning my coat and waited for the room to settle.

Brent had texted to say he was outside. The nurse saw me reach for my bag.

“Ms. Sullivan, you’re still bleeding. You need to stay here.”

“I have someone waiting downstairs,” I said. I moved past her before she could take my arm.

The elevator was at the far end of the corridor, past the private suites. By the time I got there, I could feel blood soaking into my skirt. I leaned against the wall and pressed the button. Lillian’s door stood open behind me.

“Joel, this room is gorgeous.” Lillian laughed. “When I have our baby, I want to stay here again.”

“Of course,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

When I stumbled in the dressing room, I’d waited for him to ask if I was hurt. I hadn’t realized until now that some part of me was still waiting.

Goodbye, Joel.

The elevator doors opened. I stepped inside.

A black Maybach was waiting at the curb beyond the hospital awning. Brent stepped out and opened an umbrella. Then he saw the blood on my skirt.

“Pauline!”

He dropped the umbrella, came straight to me, and wrapped his coat around my shoulders. My knees buckled before I could tell him I’d make it to the car. He caught me and lifted me into his arms.

“Brent,” I said. “Take me home.”

I felt his grip tighten. Then everything went dark.

Upstairs, Joel Delgado was peeling an apple for Lillian when his assistant rushed into the suite with a sheet of paper in his hand.

“Mr. Delgado. There’s a problem.”

Joel kept the knife against the apple. “What is it now?”

“It’s your wife, sir.”

“Hasn’t she caused enough trouble today?”

The assistant dropped to one knee beside the chair and held out the page.

“She ended the pregnancy.”

The blade slipped. A drop of blood struck the carpet before Joel looked down at his hand.

“What the hell did you just say?”

“It’s the signer’s copy of the pack acknowledgment,” the assistant said. “Admissions sent it to your household office after the procedure. Look at the heading. It wasn’t for a checkup.”

Joel snatched the page.

CONSENT FOR LABOR INDUCTION

Pauline’s signature was on the patient line. His own slanted across the box marked Family Acknowledgment. He remembered reaching out of the bath and signing where she pointed.

“No,” he said. “That’s impossible.”

He left the apple on the arm of the chair and ran.

At the doors to the procedure ward, he caught a nurse by the shoulders.

“Where’s Pauline?”

The nurse pulled back. “The induction is over. Ms. Sullivan left the ward a few minutes ago. We told her she needed to stay.”

“The baby,” he said. “Where’s my baby?”

The nurse glanced toward the service corridor.

“The hospital has taken him into its care,” she said. “Ms. Sullivan left the arrangements with us.”

Joel looked down the corridor. He remembered telling Lillian she could have the same suite when their baby came. Pauline had already been on this floor.

His legs gave way. He sank to his knees with the consent form still in his hand.