As fast as the room had filled it began to empty, until only one person remained. With only one person to focus on it was easier, and she recognized the face, dark tortoiseshell glasses and pulled-back blonde hair of her friend Erin Madden pulling up a chair beside the bed. Through her emerging fog she could tell Erin wasn’t here as her friend. Why was gynecology involved in her care?
“Chloe, do you know where you are?”
She nodded, her mind having put together the fact that she was in the Intensive Care Unit.
“Did you know you were pregnant?” Erin asked softly.
Pregnant. No. That couldn’t be right. She couldn’t be pregnant. She had only been with one man in the past two years and Tate had worn a condom. Wouldn’t she have known if she was pregnant? She had been bleeding off and on for the past month, but her cycle was screwed up because of all the stress. She had been nauseated and dizzy, but that could be stress too. Wouldn’t she have known if she was pregnant with Tate’s baby? A warm flush passed through her as she thought about a child.
“I’m pregnant?” she managed to ask, her voice still weak.
“No, Chloe. You were pregnant. The pregnancy was ectopic, in your right fallopian tube. It ruptured. That is what led to your collapse. We did an emergency laparotomy and had to take out your right fallopian tube to stop the bleeding. You also were transfused with a lot of blood products, so we decided to keep you in the Intensive Care Unit. But you are okay now, Chloe. Your blood work is stable and there are no signs of anymore bleeding. You are going to be okay.”
“I lost the baby.” It wasn’t a question for Erin, but more a confirmation to herself of everything she had just heard.
“Yes. I’m so sorry, Chloe.”
Grief filled her. It was the final insult. It shouldn’t hurt to lose something she had never known she had, but that didn’t stop the pain. Maybe it was fitting that she felt the same way about her baby’s father. She had never had him either, but that didn’t make losing him any easier.
She looked around the room, surrounded by glass and curtains and monitors that would show everything about her. She didn’t want to be here.
“I want to go home, Erin. I need to go home.” She couldn’t be here—not in public, not where she worked, not where Tate worked. Not knowing he was so close and wanting him to be with her at this moment so very badly and knowing he wouldn’t be coming.
“Chloe, you are barely twenty-four hours post-op. You know you are in no condition to go home. You just started breathing on your own and haven’t even sat up yet.”
She tried to push herself up, to prove that she could do it, but her body betrayed her. Between the physical exertion the act required and the sense of dizziness that swept over her she barely lifted herself for a few seconds before collapsing.
“Chloe, please let me handle this. I am going to have you transferred to Obstetrics, where no one knows you and you can have some privacy.”
She knew she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t leave even if she wanted to. The obstetrics ward … Pregnant woman and babies … Could she do that? Now? On the other hand Erin was right—it was a ward where no one would know her.
“Okay,” she assented, before closing her eyes, exhausted physically and emotionally. She felt Erin pull the blankets over her. “Thank you for everything,” she managed, right before sleep overtook her.
Chloe stirred, the pain in her abdomen still sharp and making her restless. She felt a hand sweep her hair from her face. Kate. She had told her best friend to go home but apparently she hadn’t listened.
Pain coursed through her as she tried in vain to find a comfortable position and a soft moan escaped her.
A hand fell onto her arm and she instantly knew that it was not Kate beside her. The hand was heavy and large and she recognized Tate’s touch. She didn’t open her eyes. She wasn’t ready to face him. She heard her call bell go off and Tate asking for a nurse.
The exchange was brief, and within five minutes Chloe felt some of the pain dissipate from her body—but not her heart.
“I know you are not sleeping, Chloe.”
Tate’s voice broke through her thoughts. She opened her eyes to meet his. Each of them was trying to decipher the other. He looked tired, with new shadowing along his face and a redness in his eyes that served to heighten the light green irises. Despite her need for him she felt overwhelmed by his presence.
“How did you know?” she whispered.
“Because I’ve watched you sleep,” he answered, as though the statement held no intimacy.
“No, I mean how did you know I was here?” she asked, not wanting to betray any of the information she had barely had time to digest.
“I’m on nights this week and saw you in the operating room.”
She grimaced at the thought of him seeing her exposed—not one she enjoyed.
“Is the morphine not enough? Do you need something else?” he asked, misreading her cue.
“No, I’m fine.” A complete overstatement, but she felt vulnerable and not ready for this conversation.
“You scared me.”
The honesty in his face and his statement humbled her.
“I’m sorry.”
“Is there a reason you didn’t tell me?” His voice had quietened.
“What do you mean?” He was searching for an answer but she didn’t understand the question.
Tate stared at her as though he could learn the answer if he just looked hard enough. She looked back at him, equally searching for an answer. “Was there a reason you didn’t tell me about the pregnancy?”
He knew. She didn’t know how, but he did. He probably had known before she did. Just one more insult in what was already an untenable situation. He was asking her if he was the father of her baby. What must he think of her if he thought there might be more than one possibility?
She blinked hard, trying to calm herself against the ugliness she felt inside. When she opened her eyes he was still staring at her, waiting.
“Does it matter, Tate?” The hurt in her voice was apparent even to her own ears.
“Yes, it matters.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“It just does, Chloe.”
“Because if you were the father then, what? You would take pity on me? Feel guilty? But if you weren’t then everything people say about me must be right and you can walk away and count your blessings for your near miss? I’m sorry, Tate, but neither of those options works for me. I think you should go.”
“We’re not done, Chloe.”
She wanted to cry and tried hard to keep in her tears. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Be honest with yourself, Tate. We never started. I need you to go.”
“What if I want to stay, Chloe?”
“Then you should have stayed six weeks ago. Or at least listened to me when I tried to talk to you afterward. But you wanted nothing to do with me then, and you don’t get to change your mind now. I want you to leave.” She could hear the pleading in her voice but she didn’t care. She couldn’t do