by Kaylee Ryan
“Thank you. Can I stay?” I point over my shoulder.
“Yeah, she’s stable for now. But if anyone asks, I told you no.” She winks at me.
I nod since smiling back would take too much effort at this point. I walk back to her room and take the chair next to the bed, swiping the screen to call my dad back.
“Ridge, how was the gala?” He chuckles. Dad knows that’s not my thing.
“I didn’t make it. Tonight has been . . . one for the books,” I confess.
“What’s going on, son?”
My parents’ are awesome, always there for Reagan and me growing up, and even now as adults. I know I can go to them with anything. Looking at my watch, I see that it’s after ten at night. “It’s a long story. I’m not hurt, but I’m still at the hospital.”
“Hospital?”
I can hear the worry in his voice. “Yeah, would you be able to . . . ?”
“I’m on my way. Your mother?”
I love that he gets me. He wants to know if he should bring Mom or if this is a ‘guys’ conversation. At this point, I need all the support I can get. “Yeah, if she’s not already asleep. Just ask the nurse at the reception desk to get me. I’ll let them know I’m waiting for you.”
“We’re leaving now.”
Just like that, no questions asked. I should probably call Reagan and the guys, but I just can’t find the strength to do it. I will also have to deal with Stephanie at some point. She’s obviously pissed, hence the reason I haven’t heard from her since I told her I wasn’t going to make it to the gala.
There are more important things in life.
When Alice comes in to check Melissa’s vitals, I inform her that I’m waiting on my family.
“I’ll let the receptionist know where to find you.”
“Thank you.” I spend the next fifteen minutes studying the pictures of my son. I’m glad that I have them; it makes this more real. It will be easier to explain with proof.
A little while later, Alice peeks her head in the door. “Your family just arrived. I had Kate put them in the private room you were in before.”
“Thanks.” I stand and grab the letter and with one last parting look at Melissa, I leave the room to fill my family in on the events of the evening.
Chapter 5
Ridge
“Knock, knock.” Dr. Ellis peeks his head into the private waiting room.
I just finished giving my parents’ and Reagan, who they picked up on the way here, the condensed version of my day. Telling them that I was going to be a father was the hardest part. By the time I was finished, there were lots of tears for Melissa, the baby, and just the entire situation.
“Ridge, this is Dr. Robbins. He’s treating Melissa,” he introduces us.
“So, how is she? How’s the baby? What’s next?” I rush through questions that have been bouncing around in my head since I first found out.
“Baby is good, vitals are strong,” Dr. Ellis states, looking at a tablet in his hands. “His vitals are good, now we just wait for her body to decide to wake up. Medicine is not an exact science. We have to let her body heal and decide when it’s time; it’s a waiting game.”
“Mom is stable for now. Her body is protecting her from her injuries. It’s now just a waiting game to see if and when she wakes up,” Dr. Robbins tells me.
“If?”
He nods slowly. “If. As Dr. Ellis said, medicine is not an exact science, and it’s hard to know how the body is going to react to trauma. We are hopeful, but she’s been out for a long time.”
“And the baby? What does all of this mean for him? What happens if Melissa doesn’t wake up?” I ask, even though I’m fearful for the answer.
“In situations such as this, we will continue to monitor the baby and do a cesarean delivery when the time comes,” Dr. Ellis answers.
“Is that safe for Melissa? How does that affect her?”
“As safe as it can be. We would provide her with the same anesthesia we would any mom in this situation.”
“So, we just wait?” I scoff, thinking there has to be something else.
“At this time, yes. That’s all we can do. Dr. Ellis will monitor the baby closely, and if there are any signs of distress, we will deliver without question,” Dr. Robbins states.
Resting my elbows on my knees, I bury my face in my hands. I hate that I can’t fix this. I can’t help Melissa, and I can’t do anything but wait and pray that the baby is okay.
More prayers. I’ve been calling in a lot of those in the last several hours.
“We’ll keep you posted should things change.”
They both turn and leave the room, leaving me with ‘all we can do is wait.’
“Ridge, is there a chance . . . ?” Reagan stops.
I know what she was going to ask me. “I don’t really know her, I explained that, but this letter, and just the few hours I spent with her . . . She’s not the deceiving type. At least, I don’t think she is.”
“I’m sure the hospital will do a test once the baby is here, just to make sure,” Mom assures me.
“Yeah, but I still can’t leave them. If the baby is mine—and I feel like it is—I can’t just leave them here. She has no family. What if something goes wrong?”
“You do what you need to do. I have the office covered,” Dad says, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Retirement is getting boring anyway.” He winks at me, trying to lessen the somber mood.
“You tell us what you need, and we’ll do it. We’re here for you,” Mom adds.
“Thank you. Reagan, can you call the guys and let them know what’s going on? That saves Dad the hassle of going out to the job sites tomorrow.”
“Consider it done, big brother. Do you need me to bring you anything?”
“It would be nice to have some dry clothes and maybe my cell charger.”
“Hey, why don’t you run home, take a hot shower, change, and grab what you need? I’ll stay here in case she wakes up. If anything happens, I’ll call you, promise,” Reagan suggests.
“Not tonight, maybe tomorrow. I just . . . want to be here.” I can’t explain it, but I feel like this is where I need to be.
“Okay, well, the offer stands for whatever you need. I’ll run to your place and pick up some clothes and your charger and be back in no time.”
I stand and pull my little sister into my arms, hugging her tight. “Thank you. Please be careful. Take your time,” I stress.
“Always,” she says with shimmering eyes. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
“We’ll sit with you for a bit,” Mom says.
“No, you guys go on home. I’m going to go sit with her. They’re moving her out of the ER and into the ICU. I’ll call you tomorrow. Dad, thanks for taking care of things at the shop.”
“You don’t worry about a thing. I got it. If there’s something I need, I’ll call you. You remember to do the same.” He pierces me with his ‘listen to me, I’m your father’ look that I used to get more often than not as a teenager.
I nod, hug them both, and head back to Melissa.
It’s after midnight by the time they get her moved to the ICU. The nurses pitched a fit when I said I was staying in her room—apparently guests aren’t allowed to stay overnight. I don’t know what she said to them, but Alice spoke to the nurses and then the doctors. I have strict rules to stay out of the way, but I’m allowed to stay.
I settle into the chair that flattens into a not-so-comfortable bed. The pillow that Alice gave me is so flat I can hardly call it one. Sleep evades me. My mind is racing and as soon as I do start to drift off, someone is in the room, checking on Melissa. I drift off again and they’re checking on the baby. I’m not going to complain, though; it’s reassuring to know they’re getting such good care.
I finally give up at around six in the morning, when Dr. Ellis brings in the ultrasound machine.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
I sit up to watch him set the machine up and place the gel across Melissa’s abdomen. He’s quiet as he takes his measurements.
“She’s measuring at thirty-seven weeks.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I confess.
“Full term is forty weeks. If we had to deliver from this day moving forward, I feel confident on the outcome. She’s been getting IV steroids, which will help strengthen the little guy’s lungs.”
“Will that hurt her?”
“No, it’s safe for both of them.”
“Good.”
The morning nurse stops in for dressing changes and I step out, hitting up the vending machine for a stale coffee and a pack of donuts. I haven’t eaten since yesterday at lunch. I take a walk out to the garden in the center of the hospital. It’s a safe place for patients who are not in the ICU to walk outside and get some fresh air. The morning air is crisp and I relish it, sucking in a slow, deep breath, thinking maybe I can catch a quick cat nap.
My phone vibrates. No such luck.
Stephanie: Where are you?
Me: Hospital.
Stephanie: Call me.
Here we go. I tap on her contact and wait for her to pick up.
“Hello.”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
“Oookay. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Care to fill me in?”
“I don’t really want to do this over the phone,” I tell her.
“I have a busy day today, Ridge. Just tell me what’s going on.”
So, I do, giving her the condensed version. Only I leave out the fact that Melissa was just a one-night stand because, at this point, it’s no longer relevant. After I explain the flat-tire girl and the accident, I pause. I know she’s not going to take this well. “And . . . uh, Melissa . . . She’s pregnant.”
“Good for her. What does that have to do with you?”
How have I put up with her for this long? “It’s mine. We were together before I met you. About eight months ago was the last time.” I don’t know why I don’t want her to know, I just don’t.
“So, you’re having a baby?”
“Yes. He’s due in three weeks.”
“He? I guess you all are going to be a little happy family, huh?”
Bitch! “What part of ‘she’s still in a coma’ did you not understand?” I seethe.
“Look, I have to go. Can we talk about this later?”
“Whatever.” I end the call. I don’t have the time or the energy to deal with petty drama. I have an unborn son and his mother, who is fighting for her life that I need to take care of.
Chapter 6
Ridge
It’s day three and so far, no change. Melissa still continues to slumber on, but her vitals are holding strong so her doctor is hopeful. The baby’s also proved to be a fighter. His vitals are strong, as is his heartbeat, which I get to hear a few times a day. I’ve come to crave the sound.
“Good morning,” Lisa, the day nurse, greets me.
“Morning,” I mumble, sitting up in my chair. “I’m going to get some coffee,” I tell her then leave the room. I feel like I need to give them privacy to change her.
I decide to head to the cafeteria to grab a bagel and the largest coffee they offer. I can’t do any more vending machine coffee; surely this has to be better. I sit at a small table in the corner and scroll through my phone. I have text messages from the guys, Reagan, and my parents.’ They’ve all been great, stopping by to see me, keeping me company, and bringing me food and clothes. I have yet to run home to shower, using the one in Melissa’s room instead.
When I get back to her room, both Dr. Ellis and Dr. Robbins are there. This is the first time I’ve seen the two of them together since that first night.
“Something wrong?” My heart drops when I see the intense expression on both their faces.
“Ridge, the baby’s vitals have been dropping slowly overnight. I think it’s best if we deliver today,” Dr. Ellis says.
“Today?” I repeat.
“Yes.”
“Is he okay? It’s too early.”
“He’s good, but I don’t want to wait until there’s a chance that he won’t be. Melissa has had the steroids, and I have full faith that he’ll have no complications. Babies are born at thirty-seven-and-a-half weeks every day. I do feel like this is the best decision.”
“What do you think?” I ask Dr. Robbins.
“I agree with Dr. Ellis. This is what is best for the baby.”
“What about Melissa?”
“Her vitals are strong, and I’m confident that the cesarean will be a smooth process.”
“So, when?” I ask.
“Now. Like I said, I don’t want to let his vitals get down to the risk stage. The sooner we deliver, the less strain it will be on both of them,” Dr. Ellis explains.
“W-What do I do?”
“The nurses will help you scrub in. Get ready to meet your son.”
“I know she says that he’s mine and I’m not disputing, but I haven’t seen her in over eight months. Can we do a test? You know, just to make sure. I feel like he is, but you know, I just . . . yeah, can we do that?” I ramble. It feels like I’m betraying her by even asking, but it’s something I need to do for my own peace of mind.
“Of course. It takes anywhere from two to five days to get the results, but I’ll put a rush on them,” Dr. Ellis says.
“Thank you.”
“We’re going to take her to the OR. Contact your family and then have Lisa escort you and help you get scrubbed in.”
I nod and watch as they wheel her out of the room. I guess I better do what he says; I don’t want both of us to miss his birth.
I decide on a group message.
Me: Baby’s vitals are dropping. Delivering today. Now. Will text when I know more.
Mom: On our way.
Dad: What she said. Be strong, son.
Mark: We got you.
Seth: Good luck, Daddy.
Kent: Closing up shop early.
Tyler: You got this.
Reagan: I love you, big brother.
Their words ground me. I have to stay strong for my son. Yes, my son. I feel it deep in my soul that he’s mine, and right now, he needs me. It’s time to get my shit together and be what he needs.
A father.
I power my phone off and slip it into my pocket just as Lisa opens the door. “You ready?”
“As ready as I can be.”
She smiles. “Follow me.”
I do as I’m told, and after an elevator ride and several hallways, we make our way through a set of double doors marked Operating Room. We stop at a large, very sterile room with sinks.
“You need to put scrubs on over your clothes and booties over your shoes. After that, we’ll scrub your hands and put gloves on you, as well as a facemask. You need to be just as sterile in the surgical environment as the medical staff,” she explains.
After getting myself set up, Lisa opens the door to what I now know is the actual operating room. “There is a chair by Melissa. Hold her hand and talk to her. Some say that even though they’re not awake, they can hear you. Some patients say they remember.”
“Do you believe it?”
Lisa shrugs. “I’ve been a nurse for twenty years, and I’ve seen a lot. I’m not sure I’m a firm believer, but I do know that if I were in your shoes I would want to believe it. Help her be here in this moment. Maybe she’ll remember, maybe she won’t, but either way, you’ll have no regrets.” With those parting words, she shuts the door, closing me in.
“You must be Dad,” a cheery nurse greets me. “We have a chair for you, right beside Mom. I’ll help answer any questions you may have during the procedure.”
Swallowing hard, I nod and take the seat next to Melissa. Reach
ing out, I grab her hand and lace her fingers through mine, mindful of her IV. “Hey, Melissa. So, little man is having some trouble. It’s nothing serious, they tell me, but his vitals are dropping. The doctors think it’s best if they deliver him today. We’re here now in the operating room. I’m here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.” I ramble on and on, my nerves getting the best of me.
I continue, telling her about the daily ultrasounds and how he seems to like to suck his thumb. I tell her that my family is here for all three of us, waiting to meet our son. I tell her how great she’s done, doing this all on her own, and how sorry I am that she’s missing this moment.
“He’s out,” the doctor says, but his voice is tense.
The room is quiet, no cries. Aren’t there supposed to be cries? Come on, baby, one breath. One breath at a time.
Then I hear him.
“Is he . . . ?” I’m overwhelmed with the sound of my son’s first cries. I’m a father.
“They’re going to get him cleaned up, run a few newborn tests, and then you can hold him,” the cheery nurse explains.
“She’s doing great, Ridge,” Dr. Ellis assures me. “Just closing up and then we’ll send her to recovery.”
“You hear that, Melissa? Did you hear him? His lungs sound strong and healthy. They’re checking him over really well and then I get to hold him. Open your eyes for me. I hate that you’re missing this. He’s your family.” My voice cracks when the last few words fall from my lips.
His cries suddenly quiet, causing me to whip my head around. There, standing behind me, is the cheery nurse holding him. He’s all bundled up in a blanket. My hands start to shake, and my heart beats wildly in my chest.
“He passed with flying colors. He’s already had his bath, and we even did the swab for the paternity test. He’s ready to eat, Dad. What do you say?”
I look back at Melissa, willing her to wake up. She’s missing this. Turning back to the nurse, I answer with, “I-I don’t know what to do.”
She smiles. “How about I take him to the nursery while you change out of the scrubs, and you can meet me there? Mom will be in recovery for a few hours at least before we can move her back to her room.”
