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I couldn’t calm down. I wasn’t sure whether I was having a panic attack, or that in some sick way, this was just my body’s way of dealing with the outrageous stress that was suddenly filtering through my entire person. The minute I got home, I left the real David Gates on the porch and found a quiet spot in the kitchen where I could curl up in a ball and have a good cry.
My guard had been none other than the baby's real father. Emerson Brooks. My heart ached in my chest as I finally made myself settle on the floor, literally and figuratively grounding myself so I could take it all in.
I clamped my eyes shut, begging my brain to stop going a million miles an hour.
“Whitney?”
I could hear him shout through the door, his deep voice practically rattling the storm door. Emerson.
“Whit, please, open the door. I have to explain.”
Fresh tears slipped down my cheek, and I swiped at them angrily. He’d made a fool of me, a fool of my emotions. And the worst part was that I was furious at myself, because they were still there, deep inside, begging me to let him in and hear what he had to say.
Because I wanted to be wrong about him. I wanted to have this baby for him but also share them with him. Sniffling, my heart still racing, I heaved up to my feet. Two steps to the door, and I started to unlock it.
Then I felt it, the deep, white pain across my belly and low back.
“Oh God,” I whispered aloud.
“Whitney?”
I pressed a hand against the sharp pull and stepped back with a groan.
“I’m coming in,” Emerson said, giving me a short warning before he plowed forwards, the door jerking in its frame as it swung forward, snapping the lock and leaving an angry-faced Emerson standing in the dust.
But I couldn’t worry about door right now.
“Emerson…” I leaned against the countertops, feeling awkward but also relieved that he had come.
“God, Whitney, I’m so sorry.” Emerson was in front of me instantly. “For both the door and the… Wait. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. It hurts,” I moaned softly, pressing a hand against my side again.
Gentle hands found mine and pressed over my flesh. But that was not what hurt. “No, no, it’s different. It’s inside.”
Our eyes met, and fear surged through me as I found that same panic reflected in his brown gaze. “Oh God, Emerson,” I whispered, my body crumbling. Fear for this baby overruled everything that happened this afternoon.
His phone was suddenly out and pressed to his ear. “Code red. ETA in ten.” He hesitated and then responded with a short, “Yes, tell Mom.”
An instant later, Emerson swept me off my feet, holding me easily against his chest as he strode back through the door he’d just broken through.
“Hold on, beautiful. I’ve got you.”
***
Chapter Seven
Whitney
I hated hospitals. But today, for at least this, I was just overwhelmingly grateful for everyone who was bustling around.
It was quickly determined that Emerson’s money speaks here. We didn’t even bother with the emergency room but went right to the side door of a private hospital. Emerson’s face was pale, but he stood tall and broad against the onslaught of people around me.
The doctor was there quickly, a no-nonsense woman in her fifties with chin-length brown hair and a steely eye but quiet bedside demeanor. She introduced herself as Dr. Charter, and I trusted her immediately.
“When did it start?”
“Just when I got home today. I had a…rough day at work, and when I got home, the cramping hit hard.”
