“Installing hardwood floors.” He takes a bite of his sandwich and speaks around the mouthful. “Not very fancy.”
“I work at a bookstore. A job doesn’t have to be fancy to be satisfying.”
He tilts his head in acknowledgment. We sit for a few minutes before I push away from the table and put my cup and plate in the sink. “Thanks for the tea and… and your help.”
I go back upstairs and crawl into bed. I stay there for the rest of the day as the cramps and heavy bleeding continue. I try to read, but mostly I just doze since in that twilight sleep I can’t think too much.
It’s evening when I hear Dean’s deep voice coming from the foyer.
My heart almost stops. I pick up my cell phone, which I haven’t turned on since the previous night. There are a few voicemails from him.
“They got the roads cleared, so I’m at the airport. Looks like I can catch a flight to Minneapolis, then Denver so I don’t have to go through Chicago. Should be in San Jose by late afternoon if there are no delays.”
Anxiety claws at me. I hurry to pull the tangled sheets and comforter back over the bed, straighten up the pillows and my discarded clothes. I go into the bathroom and splash water on my face, brush my hair and fasten it into a ponytail, put on some powder and lipstick. I throw a few tissues into the wastebasket to cover the wadded-up, bloody pads.
I leave the bathroom just as there’s a knock on the bedroom door.
The doorknob rattles and turns.
I grab hold of the bedpost and sink onto the edge of the bed.
The door opens, and he walks in—all rumpled from travel in wrinkled jeans and a rugby shirt, his face roughened with stubble, his thick hair disheveled. Lines of fatigue and stress mark his face, but his beautiful, gold-flecked eyes brighten at the sight of me.
“Ah, beauty, am I glad to see you.” He smiles and starts toward me, his arms outstretched, expecting me to run and leap right into them.
Halfway to the bed, he stops. I can’t breathe.
“Liv?”
I clutch the bedpost. My heart is beating too fast. The panic encroaches, a heavy, suffocating cloud squeezing the air from my lungs.
“Liv!”
Then he’s in front of me, gripping my shoulders, his eyes dark with concern. “You look… Liv, sweetie, breathe. You’re okay. Deep breath in, exhale on the count of five.”
I close my eyes so I won’t have to look at him. I battle back the panic and force my heartbeat to slow. His voice is steady, the reassuring tone a comfort to my aching soul.
Finally I open my eyes. He’s watching me, confused and suddenly wary.
“Liv, what’s wrong?”
“Dean, I… in the…” The tears come fast, swamping my chest, spilling in a flood. I press my hands to my eyes and try to stem the tide.
“What?” Alarmed, he digs his fingers into my shoulders. “What is it?”
I can’t look at him. Sobs tear at my throat.
“Liv!” He shakes me. “What the… oh, Jesus. What happened? Liv?”
He shakes me again, harder. I gulp in a breath and try to speak.
“Yesterday I was in the… in the bathroom. There was blood. On my underwear.”
All the color drains from his face. “No.”
I swipe at my eyes. “I didn’t… I mean, I felt fine, and I just went in to use the bathroom and… and…”
“How much?” He’s holding my shoulders so hard it hurts. “How much blood was there?”
“A f-few stains, at first. I called Dr. N-Nolan and she told me to wait and see if it… if it worsened, but I was scared so I went to the emergency room.”
He stares at me.
“I… I miscarried, Dean.” I force out the stark, bitter truth. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.”
“You… oh, God.” He releases me and sinks onto his knees. “No.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. “It… the doctor said it might have happened a week ago, but is just now… expelling.”
“Expelling?” His voice is strangled.
“There’s been… a lot of bleeding. The blood test confirmed it. I lost our baby.”
“No.” He bolts to his feet, his fists tightening.
“Dean—”
“Yesterday? This happened yesterday?”
“Early afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He paces to the other side of the room. “We talked last night, and you… you went there all alone, to the hospital, you didn’t have anyone… what the fuck, Liv?”
“What was I supposed to do?” I cry, wiping my eyes again. “You couldn’t have done anything except worry, and I couldn’t tell your mother or sister I was miscarrying when they didn’t even know I was pregnant!”
“You… you were all alone, when you… goddammit.” He slams his fist into the wall, smashing the plaster. A picture crashes to the floor. The glass shatters over the carpet.
“I wasn’t… Archer drove me to the hospital when…”
My voice dies when Dean pivots to stare at me.
“Archer?”
“He saw me when I was leaving to go to the hospital, and he… he knew something was wrong so he… Dean!”
He stalks out the door, his footsteps ringing on the stairs. My heart leaps. I hurry after him.