Page 120 of Goal Line

“And I need you to calm down?—”

“Luke!” Dr. Lowery’s voice is a sharp bark from my left, and I glance down the hall to see her peeking her head out of a room. “We’re down here.”

“See,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at the nurse as I turn and walk down the hall.

Dr. Lowery steps fully into the hallway and holds her hand out, telling me to stop before I can turn into Eva’s room. “Labor and delivery is a locked unit for a reason. Why are you acting like someone who’s trying to break in?”

“They kept telling me they didn’t have an Eva Hartmann here.”

“They don’t. Her name in our records is Evangeline Wilcott.”

I drop my chin to my chest, shake my head and take a deep breath, recognizing that I reallywasacting unhinged. If I’d stopped and thought about it for two seconds, I’d haveremembered that we used Eva’s maiden name when we added her to my insurance because we hadn’t received our marriage certificate so we couldn’t confirm her new last name yet. Andof coursethey had her full first name.

I release a heavy breath. “Sorry.”

“It’s understandable that you’re upset, but I need you to get yourself under control before you come in and see Eva.”

“Is she okay? What happened?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Now, if you’llcalmlycome in”—she rolls her eyes but gives me a slight smile—“maybe I can finish doing just that.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior, just let me see my wife,” I say with a groan.

When she moves aside to let me through the door, my eyes meet Eva’s before I take two quick strides to her side. I scan her body, noticing the wires running from her exposed belly to the monitors beside the bed, the IV in her arm, and the blanket draped across her lap.

I bend to press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in her peach scent and reminding myself that she’s in the best place to get whatever care she might need.

“Stop being so dramatic. I’m fine,” she tells me, rolling her eyes at me like she’s trying to assure me I’m overreacting. I’m pretty sure I’m not.

“Are you, though?” I cup her cheeks in my palm and press another kiss on her forehead. “I’m so damn relieved that youappearfine, but what happened?”

Eva recounts her headache followed by the nausea she felt when she left the restaurant. “I was having trouble thinking because of the headache, so I sat down and calledyou, and then Morgan. But then I started to feel dizzy, so I laid down. That’s all I remember.”

“I came running down Newbury Street, as fast as I could in my flip-flops, already on the phone with 911,” Morgan adds. “And I found her lying, completely disoriented, on a bench. Luckily, the EMTs showed up within a few minutes.”

The mental image of her lying there like that is the stuff of my nightmares, and makes me wonder if I’ll ever again be able to force myself to leave her side.

“You did the right thing getting an ambulance there as quickly as possible,” Dr. Lowery tells Morgan, before turning toward Eva. “It’s clear that your blood pressure spiked pretty significantly, but it doesn’t sound like you had a hypertensive seizure, which is fortunate. Preeclampsia, the condition that causes this, is serious, however. We’re going to get you started on a magnesium drip and increase your blood pressure meds. I’m also going to run some more tests and admit you, so that we can monitor you and the baby until you deliver.”

“Deliver? When?” Eva’s voice is tight, her eyes widening.

“We’ll see how you do. For now, the baby will need two doses of steroids, twenty-four hours apart, to begin strengthening her lungs should an early delivery be necessary. I’m hoping we can get you through the week?—”

“Is it safe to deliver this early?” I can’t keep the panic from seeping into my words.

“Premature delivery is never ideal,” Dr. Lowery says. “But ultimately, we have to weigh the risk of an early delivery against the risk of waiting, for both mom and baby. We’ll keep a close eye on your blood pressure and monitor thebaby. We won’t deliver unless it’s the safest option for both of you.”

My wife’s eyes well up with tears, but she gives the doctor a nod. I assume that, like me, she had never considered finding herself in this situation. She’s young and healthy. She eats well, exercises, and is trying to keep her life as stress free as possible.

What the hell happened in the restaurant to trigger such a reaction?

“The nurse will be back in to get the magnesium and steroids started, and then we’ll run those tests I mentioned. It’s good that you’re here, Eva. You and the baby will be under close and constant observation so we can keep you both safe. I hope that reassures you.”

Eva presses her lips together, brushes her tears aside, and nods again. I reach over to brush a wayward strand of hair from her forehead.

“You’re safe. The baby is safe. That’s all that matters, Evie,” I remind her. But I can see in her eyes that there’s some piece of the story I still don’t know.

As soon as Dr. Lowery is out of the room, I ask, “You said you went rushing out of the restaurant. What happened before that? Did something or someone make you upset?”