Page 113 of Accidental Groom

Her thumb rubs at my collarbone. “Maybe,” she says. “But you did what you did forher. And that’s what matters.”

I don’t answer, but I reach up and take her hand, lacing our fingers together. She’s warm, steady, real, and for now, that’s enough. It has to be enough.

Chapter 41

Elena

The overhead lights are too bright and the floor is too cold against my grippy-socked feet and nothing,nothing, feels real.

My back hits the gurney harder than I expect and suddenly, everything is a blur of shouted instructions, shoes on tile, and the sharpbeep, beep, beepof a monitor keeping time with my rapidly growing heartbeat. I can taste something metallic in the back of my throat, and I can’t tell if I’m sweating or crying or both.

“She’s only six centimeters, baby is breech?—”

“Her BP is dropping.”

“Whereis her OB?”

“Prep the OR, we’re taking her now?—”

Everything’s too fast. I can’t see Harry anymore.

That’s the thing that sends me spiraling, the monitor beeping behind me frantically. I was holding his hand five seconds ago. Where is he? Where thefuckis he?

My voice cracks as I try to speak, to call for him, but I can’t even get the words out. I try to twist, to sit up, but hands press gently but firmly against my shoulders.

“She needs general.”

“No epidural?”

“We haven’t hadtime.”

“I need — I need him,” I croak, or I think I do. My lips aren’t working. Nothing is.

“Honey,” a higher voice says near my ear, calm but urgent.Mary. “He’s right behind us. He’s here, Elena. Everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to take you back now, alright? Just breathe for me, we need to get that heart rate lower.”

My chest caves in on itself. I don’t want to breathe. I want Harry. I want everything to be okaynow.

Fingers touch my cheek on the other side, warm and soft and familiar. Harry leans into view, his grey hair pushed back, his face pale but steady, calm even though I know damn well he’s not. I can see it in his eyes. His thumb strokes my temple as he walks quickly beside my moving bed.

“I’m right here, darling,” he murmurs. His Adam’s apple bobs, his eyes going glassy. “I’m not going anywhere. They’re just taking care of you. You’re okay. You’re both going to be okay.”

It’s not enough. My breathing is too fast, the beeping too loud, and I’m terrified, reaching for his shirt, trying to breathe through the panicked, wet gasps that aren’t reaching my lungs. My vision goes spotty at the edges. I want to tell him that I’m scared, that I don’t want him to let go, that I’m not ready for this, and neither is she, that I haven’t even finished the nursery yet, she can’t come yet, she can’t?—

But the lights overhead are blurring together and someone is shouting that I’m hyperventilating, and the last thing I feel is the warmth of his hand never leaving my cheek, even as everything fades into black.

————

The first thing I feel is the dull ache of my lower abdomen, deep and throbbing, but distant. Then the softness of the sheets beneath my palms, then the linen of the hospital gown against my skin.

My eyes flutter open to somewhat low lighting, the ceiling above me a blur of warm cream. I can smell disinfectant and flowers. There’s a hum in the background — machines, maybe, or air vents. Somewhere further, I can hear voices, low and careful, but it's too quiet to make anything out.

But there’s warmth beside me, around me. A hand curled around mine, skin against my temple.

“You’re okay.”

I can’t tell if it’s said in comfort or in relief, but I know the voice like I know my own heartbeat. I blink once, then twice, the ceiling turning blurry as I turn my head and he comes into view.

Harry.