Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Save her. Please.” My voice is almost a sob, and my cheeks are seconds from being drenched.
Nodding, she squeezes my arm before she bolts through the flapping plastic doors. “We will do everything we can.”
A second later, she disappears through the double doors of an operating theater, leaving me alone with Macy’s blood on my hands and my soul shattered in a million pieces.
37
GRAYSON
Every second feels like eternity as I wait for an update on Macy. I’ve been pacing the hallway outside the operating theaters since they took her in, praying for a miracle. Crew arrived hours ago, but I haven’t left my post for even a second. I used my credentials to stay as close to Macy as possible, and it’s the first time I’ve felt honored by the privileges my badge grants me.
After what feels like a lifetime, the double doors halfway down the corridor swing open, and a nurse walks through them. I don’t pay any attention to the bloodstains on her scrubs. I focus on the tiny bundle wrapped in blue in the incubator she’s wheeling my way.
The baby is wailing too loudly to mistake his prognosis.
He made it.
Macy’s son made it through the ordeal that almost claimed both his and his mother’s lives.
The nurse looks up from the baby, who is crying so distraughtly that his little face is as blue as his blanket, and recognition dawns when our eyes collide. She’s the nurse who held me back hours ago, the one who said she’d do everything she could to save Macy.
Her lips hike at one side when she spots my gawk. Her smile is kind but tired. “Congratulations, Daddy.” She wheels the incubator closer, thawing a piece of my heart that froze over hours ago. “You have a tiny but extremely healthy baby boy.”
Though my mouth twitches, not a word seeps from my lips. I’m too stunned by the familiar features of the little boy’s face to speak. He looks so much like Macy that it is eerie.
Instead of correcting the nurse on the title I’ve not yet earned the right to claim, I crowd Macy’s son’s incubator like I’m a bodyguard protecting the recently born crowned prince.
His heartbreaking wails echo in the corridor, and his strength loosens the noose around my neck enough for me to speak. “I wonder if your nose will have as many freckles as your mommy’s?”
His lips tremble as his eyes rapidly move beneath closed lids, but after a handful of snivels, he stops crying, and his eyes sluggishly open. He looks up at me with the same wonder I feel looking down at him.
The nurse’s big, beaming grin makes it seem as if things aren’t as dire as they are. “I think someone recognizes your voice.”
I smile back, but the pain in my chest grows instead of weakening. If Macy is okay, then why isn’t her son with her instead of with me? That seems odd, and it surges my panic to a point I can’t control.
Ignoring the blood on the nurse’s smock, I swallow the lump in my throat before asking, “Macy? How is she?”
The nurse’s smile falters as unease darts through her eyes. “She’s still in surgery.” I gasp as if she sucker punches me when she adds, “It’s touch and go. If she has family members nearby, ask them to come in.”
After offering me a halfhearted grin that’s supposed to display optimism but only twists my stomach more, she waves over a nursing assistant at a desk near the theater’s entrance. “Can you please take Baby Machini and his father to the nursery? I need to get back in there.”
“Of course.” The nursing assistant gestures to our right with her hand. “This way.”
She leaves, anticipating me to follow.
My tone shows I am torn and conflicted. “I can’t. I promised his mother I’d stay at her side.”
She tugs on my heartstrings in a way I never thought possible. “He needs help we can’t give him. He will only get that in the nursery.” She steps closer, drawing me in with her kind eyes. “They’re doing everything they can for your wife, and now we need to make sure we give her more reasons to fight. Ensuring her son has the best care possible will give her that.”
Absentmindedly, I nod. Macy’s a fighter, and motherhood will make her fight more. I know that.
With my mind made up, I follow the nursing assistant down the corridor, wheeling Macy’s son in front of me. I am present yet absent, functioning on autopilot. Taking care of Macy’s son will give me something to focus on amid the blur. It also seems right.
He’s crying so hard that his eyes are nearly closed, and he clenches a fist outside his blanket. The nursing assistant is right. I can’t offer him the comfort he needs; only his mother can. However, I’ll take care of him as long as he needs.