Page 156 of The Trouble with Flings

“Okay. Then this is one of those times we can agree to disagree.”

“Thank you,” she says victoriously.

“You’re welcome…even though I’m right.”

That gets me an eye roll and a smile, in that order. “You’re a pain.”

“That makes you a masochist.”

She laughs and touches her forehead to my chest.

“How about we continue this discussion in a warm bath?” I murmur against her hair. “You’ll feel better when you’re naked in my arms. Strictly for stress relief purposes, of course.”

“Mm. That does sound medically necessary.”

I take her hand, leading her down the hall. “Good. Because I take my patient care very seriously. I’m planning to spend at least an hour worshipping the mother of my daughter.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Jennifer

The hallway outside the auditorium is absolute chaos after the assembly. Students weave around me in every direction while I mentally sort through the fifty things still left on my end-of-year to-do list. One more week of this, and then I can breathe.

“Ms. Stone!” a student calls out. “Can I still switch my elective for next year?”

“Talk to your guidance counselor,” I say.

“Do we have to come to school Monday since Regents are over?” another student asks.

“Yes, unfortunately for all of us,” I say teasingly.

Groans and laughter follow me down the hall. I’m halfway to the main office when shouting erupts near the senior stairwell. Now I’m the one groaning. I’d like to make it through one week without a fight. Is that too much to ask?

A crowd of students has gathered near the stairs.

“Break it up,” I say sharply, pushing through the crowd as a group of teenagers shouts at one another. “Go to your classes. Now. Move it.”

A few kids scatter, but the shouting continues. One girl is crying, and a boy shoves another boy. “Hey!” I snap. “Knock it off!”

Several of them start shoving one another. One of the boys gets pushed into me, sending me stumbling backward. My heel slips on the edge of the stair, and the world tilts sideways. I twist, curling around my stomach as I fall onto the stairs. Pain explodes through my hip and shoulder. Gasps erupt around me. Someone screams, “Oh my God!”

For one horrifying second I can’t breathe. The baby. Oh God. The baby. A dull ache is spreading up my side and back. Fear slams into me, and I wrap my arms around my stomach. Nonono. Not the baby! Please, not the baby! The hallway spins. Voices crash together around me in muffled bursts.

“Ms. Stone!”

“Holy shit—”

“Get the nurse!”

“I didn’t mean—”

Hands reach toward me from every angle, panicked students trying to help me sit up, apologizing over one another.

“I’m fine,” I hear myself say, even though pain is radiating through me, and terror is clawing at my chest so violently I feel sick. “I’m okay. Everybody, calm down.” Please. Please let the baby be okay. What if I lose her? Fitz will never forgive me. The thought pierces my heart, irrational and brutal, but it digs its claws in.

“Ms. Stone, I’m so sorry,” the boy who was pushed into me apologizes. He’s pale and shaking. “I didn’t see—”

“I know. It’s okay,” I manage, forcing my voice steady. “Just get to class.”