There was a whoosh of air; then Sean was gone. Headed to extinguish the problem. As for his tone, I couldn’t care less. As long as he was taking care of Marion, he could speak to me however he wanted. I reached for the handrail; then my breath stole away.
“Patrick.”
He stood on the landing below, a pillow wedged under his arm. He stared at the stairs ahead of him. “I brought this in for you. In case you decided to have another nap at the birthing center.” He lifted his eyes. They were vacant, cold. “You and Sean? Seriously?”
I wanted to run to him, to throw myself at his mercy, but I was eight months pregnant, so instead I carefully made my way down the stairs. On the final step, I reached for his arm. To his credit, he let me hold him until I had both feet on the flat surface. Then he dropped me like a hot stone.
“Let me make this clear,” I said. “There is no ‘me and Sean.’ It was a rumor started by Marion, we think. We are not having an affair.”
“But you did sleep together?”
I stared at him, and with no other choice, nodded.
“And this”—he poked my stomach gently with his finger—“is his baby?” He watched me, waiting for confirmation.
“Yes.”
“When?”
Now I was the one to drop my gaze.
“When, Neva?”
“Remember the night Sean told us about Laura’s tumor?” As much as I didn’t want to, I met his eye. Patrick’s face was completely frozen—not a flicker of an eyelid or twitch of a lip. I forced myself to continue. “He didn’t want to be alone. I said he could come back to my apartment and—”
“I get the picture.”
“No. You don’t.”
Patrick began to pace. I stared at him. The angle of his jaw and the curve of his forearm. It was hard to believe that, only a few minutes before, this beautiful human being was mine. He wanted to share a life with me and my baby. I felt faint.
“Neva?”
I became aware of his face, close to mine. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just…” The walls swayed slightly. “… a little dizzy.”
“Sit down,” he said.
I started to shake my head, but Patrick’s arm went around my back and he lowered me onto the linoleum floor. “Just take a breath.”
“I never meant for any of this,” I said as he propped me against the wall. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”
He sat beside me. “I know.”
He sounded resigned. I wanted to say something more, but there were no words. I settled for sitting beside him. After what I’d just told him, I wasn’t sure if I’d have the chance to sit beside him again.
A few minutes later, the door swung open and a nurse I vaguely recognized appeared at the top of the stairs. “Do you need help here?”
“Yes, please, Rose.” As if awakened from a dream, Patrick sprang to standing. “Neva’s not feeling well. She’s thirty-six weeks pregnant, registered to deliver at St. Mary’s Birthing Center. I’d like you to check her heart rate and blood pressure for me.”
The nurse started down the stairs. “Yes, Dr. Johnson.”
Patrick pulled me to standing. “If everything looks okay, could you please order her a taxi?” He looked at me. “I don’t want you walking home in this weather, okay?”
At first I didn’t understand what he was saying. Then, I did. “You’re not coming?”
Patrick shook his head. “I’ll call the hospital when I get home, make sure you’re all right.”
I nodded. Somehow I even managed to choke out a thank you.
The nurse linked her arm through mine. “I’ll take good care of her. Shall I send the results to the birthing center, Dr. Johnson?”
“Thanks, Rose.” He looked at me. “Will you be okay, Neva?”
I pretended I didn’t hear, and let Rose guide me up the stairs. I’d never been good at good-byes. And no matter what had passed between us, I still didn’t want him to see me cry.