I press a hand to my belly and take a deep breath. I’d had visions of discovering a pregnancy the usual way—by peeing on a stick in the privacy of my own bathroom—then telling Dean over a romantic, candlelit dinner.
Instead I’m in the ER with a splitting headache, fluorescent lights glaring from overhead, no-nonsense nurses firing questions at me, and a husband who is currently in a holding cell at the Mirror Lake police station.
Which, admittedly, is more like the police station in The Andy Griffith Show than NYPD Blue, but still…
Before the doctor arrives, I fumble for the phone to call Kelsey.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Liv, he’s like a caged tiger in there,” she tells me. “He’s furious that they wouldn’t let him go with you to the hospital. The officer said he won’t release him until Dean calms down, but you know what a stubborn ass he is. Dean, not the officer.”
“Can I talk to him?” I ask.
“They’re not letting him talk to anyone,” Kelsey says. “What about you? Are you okay?”
“They’re running more tests, but everything looks good. Where are the Hamiltons?”
“No idea about the girl. They held Hamilton for a while, but let him go.”
“How much longer before Dean is released?”
“He’s been processed, and they’re willing to release him on his own recognizance since they verified all his info, but first they want him to dial it down a notch. Or ten. I’m just sitting here waiting for him. I’ll bring him over as soon as I can.”
I end the call as the doctor returns and conducts a thorough exam. He tells me I don’t appear to have a concussion, but he’ll do an MRI to make certain. As he’s telling me about the MRI procedure, the nurse returns with the lab report.
“Your hCG levels indicate that you’re pregnant, Mrs. West,” the doctor tells me, studying the papers. “You didn’t know?”
Since I can’t speak past the constriction in my throat, I just shake my head.
“Though chances are your accident didn’t harm the fetus, we’ll do an ultrasound and connect you to a fetal monitor to assess the viability of the pregnancy,” the doctor says, and the businesslike tone of his voice as well as the words viability of the pregnancy bring up a wave of old fear.
A bustle of activity follows. Allie, Crystal, and Marianne come in from the waiting room to see how I’m doing. The nurse shoos them out before bringing in the ultrasound machine and setting up for the exam.
When she turns to the machine, I grab my phone again. “Kelsey, you need to get him over here.”
“They’re letting him go since they need the cell for a couple of drunk college kids,” she tells me. “He’s getting his wallet and phone returned to him right now. He still has steam coming out of his ears. We should be there in about fifteen minutes. I told him you’re okay.”
“Kelsey. Hurry.”
“On our way.”
After getting off the phone, I sit back and watch the clock. Minutes pass. I’m not about to tell the doctor to hold off on the ultrasound, but the nurse tells me I need to drink more water before they can conduct the exam.
I down another glass of water, my stomach zinging with nerves. I wait. I look at the clock again. The second hand ticks. Hurry, hurry…
“Liv?” Dean’s voice breaks through my anxiety.
My heart leaps as he runs into the room, his eyes burning with concern, a bruise marring his unshaven jaw, his shirt torn and stained with blood. He careens to a halt beside my bed, his chest heaving.
“You’re okay?” He grabs my shoulders, looking me over, his voice tight. “Are you okay? Goddammit, I almost lost my mind when they wouldn’t let me come with you, and then they stuck me in a damn cell—”
“Because you were disturbing the peace.” Kelsey hurries into the room after him. “And if you don’t calm down here, they’ll throw you out again. Is that what you want?”
Dean inhales and makes a visible effort to regain control of himself. He tightens his hands on my shoulders.
“Liv, are you okay?”
“Yes. Take another breath.”
He does. Behind him, Kelsey scans the room, her sharp gaze stopping on the ultrasound machine. Her eyes widen a little behind her glasses. She gives me a questioning does he know? look. I shake my head.
Kelsey gets a chair and shoves it behind Dean.
“You’ll want to sit down for this one, Professor Marvel.” She backs away, shooting me a smile. “Aunt Kelsey’s orders.”
She turns and leaves the room. I squeeze Dean’s arm.
“She’s right,” I tell him. “Sit down.”
He sits, dragging a hand through his hair. “Liv, I’m so sorry I—”
“Hey. Be quiet. I have something to tell you.”
“What?” Concern darkens his eyes again.
“Last February, I stopped at a baby boutique downtown,” I explain.
He blinks. “Oh.”
“I bought two cotton baby hats, one pink and one blue. They’re wrapped in a box under our bed.”
Dean searches my gaze. I grip his arm harder.
“We’re going to need one of those hats in about seven or eight months,” I tell him.
Shock registers in his expression. Before he can get a word out, the doctor and nurse return.