Page 32 of FWB

“Something like that,” I mumble as I take my refreshed glass and make my way to Rex’s table.

“What happened over by the bar?” he asks after I’ve slouched down in my chair.

“Nothing.”

“Something obviously is going on between you two.”

“Not anymore.”

“But there was something at one point? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Drop it, Rex,” I warn, my temperature rising. I need a cigarette.

“I’ll drop it for now because this isn’t the time or place to discuss this, but rest assured—this conversation is not over.”

I grunt in acknowledgment, getting up to fish my pack of Marlboro’s from my pocket and cross to the balcony where I can go outside to smoke.

The balcony overlooks the courtyard, which is covered in the same twinkling, white lights I was so entranced by on the way in.

I go to the far right corner, away from the other nicotine addicts.

I light my cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs.

The cherry glows brightly in the darkness.

I have to do something to make this right. If nothing else, then to at least ask for Tiegan’s forgiveness. I just don’t know what to do to make her talk to me.

The other smokers occupying the balcony head back into the ballroom, and through the open doors, I can hear the DJ announce the opening of the dance floor.

He says through the microphone, “If anyone has any song requests, you can fill out one of these slips of paper and I’ll try to fulfill them,” before launching into M83‘s “Midnight City.”

Suddenly, I get an idea. I stub out my cigarette and head inside, over to the DJ’s section.

Three fast songs later, the DJ announces, “How about we slow it down a bit now? This one is a request, but no name was left. This tune is called ‘Holding Pattern.’”

That’s my cue. I get up from my seat and cross the ballroom to Tiegan.

She’s in the middle of telling a story to her entourage but stops mid-sentence when she hears the DJ call out the name of the song and the first few opening bars.

She looks around the room, her eyes searching, until they land on me making my way through the crowd toward her .

I approach her table and hold out my hand to her. “Tiegan, will you dance with me?”

She looks at me with those big, black-winged eyes, before glancing to Kiersten for guidance. Kiersten shrugs her shoulders, not knowing what to do in this situation.

Finally, she looks back at me. “You don’t dance. Ever.” She throws my words back at me that I uttered all those months ago.

“Tiegan, I’m asking: will you please share this dance with me?“ I continue holding out my hand toward her like she’s a life raft and I’ve been adrift at sea for weeks.

I can see she’s at war with herself. Finally, her gaze changes. She’s made up her mind. She takes my hand and rises from her seat.

I lead her in between fellow colleagues, not caring what anyone else might be thinking. I wrap my right arm around her lower back, bringing her closer to me while taking her hand in my left. She wraps her free arm around my neck, and we begin to sway back and forth to the sweet melody.

“You have until the end of the song to explain what the fuck is going on, Kenny.” Her eyes bore into my very soul.

I take a deep breath and let it out. “I made a huge mistake a couple of months before you came tearing into my life, and it’s not something I can make right. At least, not without self-sacrifices. I’m afraid you’ll end up being one of those sacrifices.”

She looks at me with more tenderness than I’ve ever seen from her. “Kenny, I can assure you, there is nothing you could do that would scare me away.“ She lowers her voice before going on. “Is it drugs? Have you started using cocaine again?”

I shake my head, incredulous. I haven’t even thought about using again in almost two years. “It’s not that. I can’t tell you just yet. But trust me when I say I want to.”

“Then just tell me! I’m right here, in your arms. I’m not going anywhere.”

Fuck. Okay, fine. I guess it’s now or never. “Tiegan, I’m–”

The phone in my pocket begins to ring as I’m about to say, “About to be a father.” I take it out to silence it but notice the caller ID says VANDERBILT UNIV MED CNTR.

I hold up a finger. “Hold on. I need to take this.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, trying to physically protect herself from the emotional battle she’s about to encounter with my revelation.

I turn away from her and answer. “Hello?”

The man on the other end of the line has a gruff, distinct accent, but I can’t make out where he could be from. “Hello, is this Mr. Kenny Hillford?”

“Yes, this is him.”

“Do you know a Jazmine Willard?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, I know her. What’s going on?” I’m equal parts annoyed and panicked.

“I’m Dr. Balboa at Vanderbilt Medical Center downtown.

Ms. Willard had an … accident, resulting in the early birth of her daughter.

Due to the circumstances surrounding the accident in question, the child is not to be discharged from the NICU to Ms. Willard’s care.

We understand that you are the father of the baby, correct? ”

“I don’t know.” I look over my shoulder at Tiegan who is standing there, watching me with her steely gaze. Other colleagues dart glances our way too. “That hasn’t been scientifically determined yet.”

“Ah, I see,” Dr. Balboa says. “Well, is there any way you can come to the hospital to take a paternity test?”

“Tonight?”

“Well, yes. The child is stable and should be allowed to go home in two days.”

“Okay,” I say, exasperated. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I hang up the without saying goodbye and shift back to face Tiegan.

“I have to go,” I tell her, wanting nothing more than to reach out and take her in my arms again, but knowing I will never have the opportunity.

She nods her head, the tears in her eyes making them even more blue. “Okay, Kenny. Have a good life.”

Then she whirls around and rushes back to her table, grabbing her purse and coat from her chair, whispering something to Kiersten in the process.

She gathers her belongings as well. They’re leaving.

Tiegan bends down to hug Jerome and kiss Michelle’s cheek.

Then she’s out the door, her red skirt billowing behind her.

I pull up the rideshare app and request a car to be here in ten minutes to take me to the hospital. I go back out on the balcony to smoke another cigarette while waiting for my ride. Well, that didn’t go as planned.

Twenty-five minutes of hellacious downtown Nashville traffic later, we pull in the front of Vanderbilt Medical Center.

I thank my driver before getting out and walking through the entrance.

I check in with the guest support staff and give them Jazmine’s name and my “relationship” to her.

After telling them I’m her baby’s father, they give me her room number.

She’s in the high- security wing of the maternity ward.

I didn’t even know they had a high-security ward here . What the fuck did Jazmine do?

I make my way through the labyrinth of the hospital until I find my way to the maternity ward. I press the call button to unlock the doors, and one of the nurses buzzes me in. I walk through the doors and head straight for the nurses’ station.

As I approach, I notice a young nurse. She’s maybe in her mid-twenties. She’s pretty in a basic way, but her ashy blonde hair doesn’t do much to compliment her olive skin tone. “Hey, I’m looking for Jazmine Willard. She’s supposed to be in room 204,” I tell her.

She looks up at me briefly before pointing down the hall to her right. “Go down that hall and make a left. 204 is the first door on your right.”

I mumble some sort of thanks as I head down the hall. As I turn the corner, I see a security guard outside of Jazmine’s room. Oh, hell no. I approach the guard. “Good evening, sir. I’m here to see the patient inside this room.”

He looks down at me, his porn stache twitching as he sucks on his teeth. “Only family is allowed to see this one. You family?” he asks me in a thick Brooklyn accent.

I nod. “Kind of. I’m her baby’s father.”

“So you’re the one that got her into this mess, huh?”

“I don’t know what mess you’re talking about,“ I say, getting defensive. “I’ve barely spoken to her this entire year!”

“Well, you must have done something, or else she wouldn’t be lying in this room dealing with this shitstorm.”

“Look, can I see her or not?”

He takes one last look at me before moving aside, allowing me passage into Jazmine’s room.

When I enter, I notice how sparse the room is. A lone, fluorescent overhead light illuminates the small, private space. I venture farther inside where a rerun of Friends is playing silently on the TV.

I pull back the curtain and get a good look at Jazmine for the first time since I left her in her apartment after she told me she was pregnant all those weeks ago. Her eyes are closed, but she opens them when she hears me approach.

“You came,” she says, her voice hoarse. It sounds like she’s been screaming for hours. Maybe she has?

I say nothing as I continue to inspect the scene in front of me.

The various lines and tubes stick out from her arms. Jazmine is propped up in bed with pillows behind her back, the sheets pulled up to her waist. My eyes dart to the two sets of handcuffs, one adorning each wrist. The other ends are locked to the bed rails.

“Can you please give me a sip of water?” She nudges her chin in the direction of the Styrofoam cup on the table beside her bed. “I’m so thirsty.”

I move closer to the table and pick up the cup of water.

“What the fuck did you do, Jazmine?” I press, using the water as a hostage, my voice cold as the ice in the cup.

“Please, Kenny! I’m so thirsty and the nurses only come by once an hour to check on me. I really need a drink. Please. ”

I move to her bed and bend down, holding the water far enough away that she can’t reach it with her restraints. “Tell. Me. What. You. Did.”