Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Ridley walked up to the receptionist’s desk and showed her his badge.
“Harrison County Sheriff. I’m here for Kitt Walker,” he said.
The woman’s eyes went from Ridley’s face to her computer where her fingers quickly started to fly over the keyboard.
“She’s still in surgery. If you would like to wait here I can go check with the nurse…”
“I’m her fiancé. She’s having my baby. If you would do that, that would be good,” I blurted, interrupting her explanation.
The woman smiled softly.
“I’ll go check,” she pushed back from her desk.
The woman went to stand, and I walked around the side of the desk to help her.
She had to be at least ninety, if not older.
But the old woman walked out the door and came back within five minutes.
“You have to stay here,” she pointed at Ridley. “But you can come with me. She’s been asking for you.”
My eyes started to sting as I followed the old woman through the door behind her desk.
I looked back once at Ridley, who looked torn.
I knew he wanted to come.
But he didn’t want to make a big scene.
I gave him one grateful nod before the doors shut behind us.
“Which way?” I grated roughly.
She pointed.
“I’ll take you, dear.” She held my hand. “Don’t want you getting lost.”
I closed my eyes and tried not to scream at the old woman.
She was walking so goddamned slow that I was tempted to pick her the fuck up and ask her where to take her.
“She just got into surgery. She’s been having seizure after seizure, and they’ve just now gotten those under control enough to sew her up, according to the doctor. The baby was delivered via C-section about five minutes ago,” she recited.
I fought the urge to clench my hands, knowing in this state that I would likely break the old lady’s bones.
“Apple Drew?” A woman asked, startling me.
I looked up and to the side to see a nurse in green scrubs outside a plain white door.
The old lady gave my hand one last squeeze before letting me go.
“Yes, ma’am,” my voice cracked slightly.
She smiled at me.
“We were going to let you come in with her for a few moments, but she’s completely under sedation now so she won’t be able to speak to you,” she said. “The baby, being seven and a half weeks early, will be taken to NICU. You may go with them, but you’ll be asked to change into clean clothes and a gown.”
She eyed the mud on my boots. “And I have some shoe covers we’d like you to put on.”
I nodded my head.
“And Kitt? The baby? Are they okay?” I asked.
I must’ve sounded ravaged, because she gave me a soft smile.
“Both are okay,” she promised. “The baby is healthy and had a forceful scream before I left her. She should be following me out…”
The door popped open behind her, and I heard the healthy set of lungs come out into the hallway.
My daughter, a red, screaming, covered in white goo, little bundle of pissed off came out of the door being pushed in a clear contraption by another nurse.
“Daddy?” The other nurse asked.
I nodded, my feet frozen to the floor.
“Mommy’s doing okay,” she grinned. “And this little one will likely be just fine, also. We’re taking her to the NICU just in case, though.”
I nodded mutely.
“Ready?” She asked, pushing my baby past the door in the direction of a bank of elevators.
I nodded, but still my feet wouldn’t move.
“She’s going to be just fine.”
The nurse’s words gave me the power to move, but only until my hand could touch the cool white door.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against it, saying a prayer for the first time in over a year.
Don’t leave me. Please fight.
My baby’s whimper turned to a quiet hiccup, and I let my hand drop to my side.
“I’m ready.”
Chapter 17
It’s an ‘I want to fake my death, move to Mexico and live on tequila and tacos’ kind of day.
-Coffee Cup
Apple
“You’re sure?” I asked the nurse.
She nodded.
“She needs the oxygen for now,” she pointed to the mask that was over Emily’s tiny nose. “You saw her chest?”
I nodded.
She’d been breathing fine at first, but over time, her breathing became labored. Her chest had started to cave inwards with the force of her breaths, and the NICU nurses and a doctor had immediately placed her on oxygen.
I studied her face, and her perfect little lips, so happy that all the malformations that the doctors said might be possible while Kitt was on her seizure meds didn’t come to fruition.
She was a perfect little four-pound baby, and I wanted to hold her so badly I could scream.
“When will I get to hold her?” I asked, my finger running along Emily’s chest.
“Maybe tomorrow, once she’s stable,” the nurse answered. “We’ll have to just wait and see. Babies, at this age, are so fragile, and we don’t want to disturb her any more than we have to until we figure out just how healthy this baby is.”