Kingsley clicks on the lamp next to the bed before shooting across the room. He rifles through the contents of my leather bag before pulling out an appointment card. His brows pinch together as he grabs his cell phone and punches in the number. With the fullness of his lower lip tucked between his teeth, he waits for someone on the other end to answer.
When I pull myself to a seated position, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, he barks, “What are you doing?”
“I need to use the bathroom.” My fingers shake as they curl into the sheets.
He blows out a steady breath, his nostrils flaring as he tempers his tone. “Stay put until I talk to the doctor and we figure out what’s going on.”
“I need to go.” When he remains silent, I add, “It can’t wait.”
From the way his lips thin, it’s obvious he wants to argue. As I slip from the mattress and rise unsteadily to my feet, a sticky warmth fills my panties. Kingsley’s eyes widen as he stares at my bare thighs before the phone drops from his fingers, clattering to the floor. Before I can register what’s going on, he sweeps me off my feet and into his arms.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.” Fear threads its way through his snapped out words.
An answering sob gathers in my lungs as I burrow against the strength of his chest. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know.”
He sets me carefully on the bed before rushing to the dresser and yanking open a drawer, grabbing the first thing his fingers come in contact with. A purple Northwestern hoodie and a pair of leggings. I stare sightlessly at the ceiling as my mind cartwheels. Even as I lie on the bed, blood seeps from between my thighs. The hot stickiness of it makes me queasy.
I draw in a shaky breath before gradually expelling it from my lungs, trying to calm myself from the inside out. Any moment, I’ll spin out of control. When Kingsley returns, there’s a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulls the hoodie over my head and assists me into the black stretchy pants.
I focus on his face and it grounds me in the here and now. When I attempt to sit up, he slips his arms around my body and lifts me against him. I press my face into his chest as he strides from the bedroom. Beneath his T-shirt, his heart jackhammers a steady beat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Kingsley stalks through the second-floor gallery before descending the curving staircase. His grip tightens, pressing me closer. Once at the bottom, an inaudible hum of words is exchanged before we’re out the door. He hits the locks of the Mustang before gently setting me inside and reclining the seat so I’m able to lie flat. Barely do I blink and he’s sliding in beside me, revving the engine and shooting from the driveway.
As we turn out of the subdivision, Kingsley glances at me, concern brimming in his dark depths. Our gazes lock and hold as he reaches over, entwining our fingers before giving them a comforting squeeze. “Everything will be okay.”
His words reverberate throughout my head as the scenery whizzes by the passenger side window.
How can he be so sure?
In this moment, as pain spirals through me, nothing feels like it will ever be all right again.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Soft morning light filters into the room as I curl onto my side and stare sightlessly at the wall of windows. The tears refuse to stop. It’s as if a faucet has been turned on as they leak insistently from the corners of my eyes.
By the time we arrived at the hospital, it was too late, and I had miscarried. The little being filling my belly is no longer a possibility.
A decision that has yet to be made.
And I have no idea how to feel about that. Barely can I admit there is relief in the knowledge that the choice has been taken out of my hands. As soon as that thought creeps into my brain, guilt rushes in, nearly swallowing me whole.
How can I be relieved about losing my baby?
Kingsley’s baby.
A pervasive feeling of sorrow blankets everything, eclipsing all other emotions that try to take root. Even though I was confused, I’m brokenhearted that my body rejected the pregnancy.
The emergency room physician was very matter of fact about the situation. Miscarriages are not uncommon. They can happen before a woman even suspects she’s pregnant. In a way, I suppose it makes sense. If I hadn’t gone to the doctor and taken a test, I might not have realized it either. I would have chalked up the cramping to a bad period that was late. The doctor reassured me that this doesn’t mean it’ll happen again or that I’ll have a difficult time getting pregnant in the future.