Then Harper clears her throat. “Uh, yeah. My dad and stepmom had already left to go to the farmer’s market.”
I ball my hand into a fist because that’s better than letting out the frustrated scream I’ve managed to keep at bay. “Harper, why didn’t you call me first? I could have gotten you.”
Another pause on her side. “Mmm, I don’t know. I didn’t want to bother you. And I was fine driving.”
Shaking my head at the wall, I continue to the closet, put the phone on speaker, and get dressed as fast as I can. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t leave without me.”
“I really don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Harper, can you please just wait?”
At this point I’m not beneath begging. Whatever it takes.
“Fine, I’ll wait.”
“Thank you. See you soon.”
“Bye.”
I struggle with my jeans way more than I should but finally manage to put them on, followed by socks and shoes. Snatching my phone, I jog downstairs to get my keys and wallet, and I’m out the door. Trying not to speed has never been this hard before, but thankfully the hospital isn’t far away.
After I finally find a parking spot, I make my way inside and head straight for the Emergency Room desk. I tell the nurse Harper’s name but she can’t find it in the system, so I pace the waiting room area and try to call Harper. She doesn’t answer, but thankfully a text message comes through before my blood pressure rises to astronomical levels.
Harper: I’ll be out in a minute.
Every second feels like torture. I know she said she’s fine, but neither my brain nor my body seem to have gotten the message, spinning in circles like they’re on a merry-go-around. I need to see her, make sure with my own eyes that she’s all right.
The exit door on the side opens, and Harper walks out. Finally. My feet move before I even have a chance to fully check her out. There’s no missing the bandage at the corner of her forehead though, or the fact that one of her eyes is red and a little swollen. Crap. She looks like someone punched her in the face.
Without thinking about it, I open my arms, and relief floods me when she walks straight into my embrace without a single note of hesitation.
I wrap my arms around her much smaller frame, feeling her warmth against my body. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Her head rests against my chest, the scent of her shampoo filling my nose. It takes me back to the night we met and how I first inhaled her intoxicating scent while we danced. It was a perfect moment, a perfect night. And she fit perfectly into my arms then, just like she does now. “How did it go?”
A loud breath wooshes out of her. “The baby’s good.”
I close my eyes and give her a little squeeze. “Thank God.”
“I know.”
She pulls back, and I scan her face once more, wincing at her eye up close. “How are you feeling? Are you hurting?”
She shrugs. “My pride probably hurts more than anything.” She points at her eye. “But I’ll probably feel this one later. And tomorrow everyone will think I was in a boxing match.”
“Did the doctor give you something for the pain?”
“He did. Although only Tylenol since I’m not supposed to take ibuprofen during pregnancy.”
“Crap, really?” Why haven’t I researched this yet?
“Yup. I should probably read up on at least the basics before I ever leave the house again, or the bed after what happened this morning.”
“Definitely no more fainting, please.”
“Agreed.”