Forever with You

She didn’t reply immediately. “If you change your mind, I’m just a phone call away, okay?”

“Okay,” I murmured.

“How is Nick handling it?” she asked.

My chest squeezed as I forced out the words. “I haven’t told him yet.”

Silence.

“I . . . it just happened, and he was at work, so I drove myself to the hospital last night.”

“Stephanie,” she sighed wearily.

My knuckles ached. “I’m going to get off here, okay? I’ll call you later.”

I all but hung up on her, and I felt crappy for rushing off the phone, but I didn’t want to say anything that would propel her to ignore my request for her not to come, and I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, because I knew I was going to have to talk about it again.

Glancing at the clock, I knew I had time to talk to Nick before he went to work. Part of me wanted to chicken out and call him, because seeing him face-to-face wasn’t something I was sure I could do.

But this wasn’t the kind of conversation you had on the phone.

I texted him, asking if he could stop by. After a couple of texts back and forth—Nick wondering why I was home, and me making being vague an art form—he said he was on his way. Sitting in the chair by the small table, I waited as knots built in my stomach. The cramping wasn’t so bad now, but every so often it felt like someone shoved a knife into my midsection. Part of me welcomed that pain, because I could focus on it.

When Nick showed up, not nearly enough time had passed. First look at him told me why. Wearing nylon sweaters and a thermal under his jacket, he’d been at the gym. His hair was adorably messy.

He took one look at my pale face and his hand tightened around the edge of his motorcycle helmet. “You’re sick. That’s why you’re home.” Putting the helmet on the table, he turned to me.

I stepped back, out of arm’s reach. “I’m not sick. Not really. Um . . .” Avoiding his concerned gaze, I turned around and ran my hands through my hair. The limp strands tangled in my fingers. “I needed to talk to you.”

“I’m here.” His hands brushed along my back, and I sidestepped him. “What’s going on, Stephanie?”

Walking to the couch, I sat on the edge. Since I’d already told my mom, it was easier to get the words out this time, maybe too easy. “I . . . I lost it.”

“What?” Nick moved closer.

“The baby,” I said, staring at my hands—my fingers. “I miscarried. I don’t know why. It happened last night. I didn’t even know it was happening at first. I thought it was just stomach pains. That was stupid.” I glanced up to find Nick standing near the couch, still as a statue. “I don’t know if it was something I did or didn’t do, but I’m not . . . pregnant anymore.”

Nick’s expression tensed as he closed his eyes. His hand lifted and he shoved his fingers through his hair. “Stephanie . . .”

My name was harsh-sounding on his tongue, and I cast my gaze back to my hands. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“What?” The burst of that one word drew my attention. He was staring at me. “Babe, you have nothing to apologize for.” One step brought him to where I sat, and he was crouched in front of me, his hands wrapped around mine, and I thought of the nurse holding my hand last night. “God, Stephanie, don’t apologize. Don’t—”

“I know you’re disappointed. You didn’t think you’d have a . . . well, I know you wanted this.”

His gaze searched mine. “I know you wanted this, too, but this . . . it happens. God.” His head bowed as he brought our joined hands to his forehead. “Fuck. I don’t know what to say.”

The breath I drew in was shaky. I didn’t know what to say either. His shoulders tensed and then he lifted his head. Those extraordinary eyes were bright, too bright, and my heart broke.

“Okay. All right.” He inhaled deeply. “Do we need to go to the hospital? I can—”

“I already went to the hospital.”

Nick’s lips slowly parted as he stared at me, his eyes widening.

“There’s nothing else that can be done at this point. I mean, not right now. I’ll make a follow-up appointment to make sure everything is okay, but nothing needs to be done right now.” That was the truth, and I didn’t need to tell him all the . . . other details of what was happening. “You don’t need to take off work or anything. I’m just going to be . . . uh, relaxing . . .” I swallowed thickly. “ . . . until Monday.”

He let go of my hands. “When . . . when did this happen?”

“Last night.” Hadn’t I said that? I couldn’t remember.

Nick placed his hands on his thighs. “And you went to the hospital last night?”

I nodded as I smoothed my hands over my legs.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

His face blurred a little as I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

There was a pause. “Come again?”

Why hadn’t I called him? He should’ve been the first person I called. Granted, I’d panicked when I went to the hospital, but I should’ve called him once I was there or when the nurse had asked. I still didn’t even know why I hadn’t. I pressed my fingers to my temples and shook my head. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me? Are you . . . ?” He rose suddenly, taking a step back. His hand went through his hair again. “Okay. Why would you even think that?”

I shook my head.

Nick stepped to the side, his hands settling on his waist. “Is this a real conversation we’re having?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I didn’t . . .”

“You didn’t what?”

I hadn’t wanted to disappoint him, because he’d lost so much. I hadn’t wanted to hurt him, because he’d already been hurt enough. And I didn’t know how to handle any of this—the baby, being in a relationship, losing the baby and Nick. I didn’t know how to do this, and I had done it wrong, so wrong.

And as I lifted my gaze to him, I knew they weren’t the only reasons. I’d fallen for Nick, fallen so deep, and this baby was what had brought us together—was what stuck us together, and now that wasn’t there. He’d never said he’d loved me. No plans for the future were made that hadn’t included the baby. What were we without what brought us together?

I knew I was going to lose him.

A cramp hit, catching me off guard. My hand flew to my stomach as the pain lanced through me.

Nick was immediately kneeling in front of me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I gritted out.

“What can I do?” He touched my arm.

“Nothing. Just . . .” The pain let up, and pulled away as I stood. “I just need to relax for a little bit.”

His hands opened at his sides. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

I shook my head. “No. I just wanted to let you know. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” He jerked back as if he’d been pushed, and I wanted to look away. I wanted to hide, because this . . . all of this felt like my fault. “Stephanie, I don’t know what to say.”

Tell me that you still want to be here.

Tell me that you still see a future for us.

Tell me that you love me.

“There’s nothing to say,” I whispered, looking away.

“You’re wrong,” he said, and hope sparked deep in my chest. “We lost a baby—”

“I wasn’t even thirteen weeks,” I said, because it was easier not to think about it outside of that. “The doctor said it might’ve stopped developing weeks ago.”

“Weeks ago?” he murmured, wincing.

“All I’m trying to say is that at least it happened now and not weeks from now, not when . . .” Not when I was showing or when it would be so much harder to accept and understand this.

Except it was hard to accept and understand. I didn’t get it. I didn’t know why this happened, and I wasn’t just disappointed, I was crushed, and I—

“I should’ve been there, Stephanie. Not just so that I could be there for you, but also so that I could be there. And nothing to say? There’s a lot to say about all of this. I don’t know the words right now. I don’t even know what to think, but . . . Fuck.” He smoothed his hand over his face. His arm shook. “Why didn’t you call me, Stephanie?”