“What am I supposed to do? You ran out of that church like your pants were on fire. They wanted you there, and you couldn’t stay the entire time.”
“I was there. I did everything but eat.”
“Barely. I was there too.”
“I was fine. I was ready.” She remembered the happiness she had felt that morning. Excitement. She started to cry again.
“Keep telling yourself that. So, when are you going to get over this? Are you going to be like this if they have another one? When your other friends have a baby?” His eyes were on the road in front of them. They were going far faster than the posted limit.
“Tomorrow, I will have to start getting over it. Now I have a date to tell you. Tomorrow,” she whispered through her tears. Because tomorrow it was going to be over, her time with her baby over forever. Just like every other time.
“You don’t think I was sitting there thinking about all the babies I never got? You don’t have the market cornered on the what-ifs. I got some too.” He blew through a stop sign—he didn’t even slow down for it.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been thinking of you having a hard time with it, too. I’m so sorry,” she said, adding tears for him to her own.
“I know my emotions are not as tied to babies as yours since I never actually had one. You didn’t tell me that one was born late enough to live.” He reached over and touched her hair.
“She was born dead. She never lived. I was twenty-four weeks, but she still died. Her name was Layla. She would be ten now. I lost her a week before Christmas. Everyone kept saying that these things happen, but why do they always happen to me?” she said through her tears.
“I’m sorry.” His voice quiet, barely audible over the engine with the speed he was driving.
“I don’t want your pity!” she yelled and knew he didn’t deserve it, but she was tired of people being sorry. It didn’t help. Nothing was going to help today.
“It’s not pity, Mandy. It’s a feeling of helplessness that nothing can help.” He was still touching her hair.
Looking up at him, he was driving like a maniac, and she loved him for it. He didn’t even know why she was going to Grand Forks, and he was so willing to help. He didn’t even like her, but he was helping her. God, she wished he still liked her a little bit. She wished she had just told him about the baby a month ago. Or even before that.
CHAPTER18
Hue had never driven so fastin his life. But then again, he had never seen Amanda in that much pain. Something was majorly wrong, and she wasn’t telling him what. He wasn’t going to pry; he knew she would tell him in her time. The timetable of Mandy was something he knew was real. And nobody got in the way.
Stop touching her, he demanded himself and put two hands on the wheel. His heart said to touch her as much as possible while you can. It had been a long month without her, and now he had her again.
Glancing over at her, Hue watched her double over in pain again. It seemed like the same intensity that brought her to her knees on the cold snowy sidewalk in Landstad. The one that scared him to death and was the reason he was driving like a wild man without any indication from her that it was needed. Moving his hand from the steering wheel, he touched her hair, not wanting to hurt her any more than she was already hurting. But she squeezed his hand in a death grip instantly.
Moments later, her grip loosened, and he knew the pain had subsided again. “What’s happening, Mandy?” He kept holding her hand but kept the gas pedal pushed to the floor.
“I am having a miscarriage,” she said through tears.
“Is it mine?” Gasping, he had to ask, but he knew it wasn’t.
Instantly, his mind went to Amanda carrying his baby. Amanda holding his baby, Amanda being the mother to his baby. He wanted it so bad.
“I wish it was. I’m further along than that.” She tried to drop his hand, but he kept holding hers. It didn’t matter; she was still the woman he loved.
“Does the hospital know you’re coming?” They were flying toward it, so he needed to know.
“No,” she whispered.
“Do you want me to call?” He got that sense that not enough people knew she was pregnant, realizing possibly nobody knew.
“No, I should.” She sat up and pulled her phone from her pocket with her free hand. “How far away are we?”
“I’d say twenty-five minutes if I keep this speed up.” He squeezed her hand.
Seeing her dial a number, he expected her to get the emergency room line or even maternity, but he was surprised at how informal she was when the line was picked up. “David. It’s me, Amanda.”
He could hear the other person talking because of how close they were together in the pickup cab. “Good afternoon, Amanda. How are you?”