Karina:CALL ME
I only readthree messages when my phone starts ringing in my hand, my wife’s name and picture appearing on my screen. I answer the call, placing my phone between my ear and shoulder while I pick up my briefs from the floor and pull them on.
“Dean, thank God! Why haven’t you been answering?” Her frantic voice comes over the line before I even have a chance to say anything.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, suddenly on high alert. Goosebumps raise on my arms at the sound of my wife’s voice.
“I’m at the hospital, Dean. I started bleeding. You didn’t answer so I drove myself, but I can’t be here alone.” She hiccups on a sob. “Please, will you please come? I’m so scared. Please, I need you.”
A chill runs down my spine. “I’m on my way.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She sobs into the phone.
“Send me your location.” The line goes dead, my body turns cold, and my gut fills with dread.
With quick movements, I dress, running my fingers through my messy hair and wipe my mouth, trying to make myself appear somewhat put together before I have to face my wife.
“What’s wrong?” Camille asks with a frown, sitting up and covering herself with her hands.
“I have to go,” I grit out, unable to look at her, like the true fucking coward I am. Now’s not the time to tell her that my wife is pregnant and might be having a miscarriage. While I was busy getting my dick sucked, my wife was sitting alone in the hospital, possibly losing our baby. A baby I wasn’t sure I even wanted.
All I feel is guilt.
Guilt and shame.
Without looking back, I leave Camille alone in our special place.
I leave her to be with my wife.
I speed the entire drive to the hospital, swerving through traffic to get to Karina as quickly as possible. I pray to whoever will hear it, begging for Karina and our baby to be okay.
I’ll end my affair.
I’ll be a better husband.
I’ll do anything for them to both be safe and healthy.
I’ve been here before; Karina has had multiple miscarriages. Since our daughter was born sleeping, she’s been unable to carry a pregnancy past nine weeks.
I’m not sure how far along she is since we haven’t had the first appointment yet, but I fucking pray this pregnancy will stick.
Once I arrive at the hospital, I jump out of my car the second it’s parked and run inside, frantically telling the lady at the front desk why I’m here. It takes two seconds and a look at my driver’s license for her to lead me back to the ER room occupied by my wife.
With my head hung in shame, I enter the room, our eyes meeting. Her hair is in a messy knot on top of her head, her face is bare of any makeup, and she looks so fucking tiny and fragile lying in the middle of the hospital bed.
This is where I should’ve been right from the start. I should’ve been at home with her, been there when she started bleeding, been the one to drive her to the hospital and check her in, just like I was there every time before. If I hadn’t been so fucking distracted and busy with my own needs, I wouldn’t have neglected my wife.
Maybe if I hadn’t been causing her so much stress, she wouldn’t be here now. Had I been a better husband, there’s a chance she would be home right now, happy and not experiencing another miscarriage.
“You came,” she says, her voice weak and raspy from crying.
“Always will, Karina. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you.” I take off my suit jacket, tossing it on the waiting chair. Without a second thought, I carefully climb onto the bed beside my wife and take her small body into my arms, holding her against me while she cries.
“I’m so scared.” She sniffles, looking up at me through her wet eyelashes.
“I’m here, baby, I’m here.” She puckers her lips, so I kiss her. I kiss my wife with the taste of another woman’s pussy on my tongue.
“Where were you?” she asks, pressing her nose against my chest and inhaling deeply.