by Kim Law
“I’m not . . .” And then a sinking feeling settled. He’d seen Arsula and Erica over at the cabin the night before, so he’d assumed one of them had given her a ride to school. Likely, it had been Arsula since she was here now.
Did her attitude mean that Maggie had shared more than simply a car ride with her friend?
“I’m not a jerk, Arsula.” He couldn’t keep the annoyance from his voice. Had Maggie told her about the baby?
He wouldn’t bring the subject up in the event that wasn’t what had her so upset, but his gut told him he was on the right track.
“I disagree with your assessment,” she tossed back. “You’re apparently nothing more than a selfish, low-life, horn—” She snapped her mouth closed as a man and a woman approached, passing them in the hallway, then she dragged him over to the opposite wall. “You got her pregnant,” she accused. “You got her pregnant, and you can’t be bothered to do anything about it.”
“Excuse me?” Anger now pulsed through him. “Not do anything about it? I don’t know what she told you, but I’ve offered whatever amount for child support she needs. All she has to do is name a figure, and it’s hers. Are you crazy, Arsula? Of course, I wouldn’t leave her stranded like that. I wouldn’t do that to any woman.”
She snarled. “It’s your baby, Cord. You’re leaving your baby stranded. As well as Maggie.”
“I am not.” His jaw tensed. “I’ll see to it the child has everything he needs if she’ll just let me. Everything,” he gritted out. Including a parent who didn’t abuse him, he silently added. “Plus, why the fuck did she tell you about it? She promised me she wouldn’t.”
“Well, I guess her friendship with us comes before your”—her distaste shone bright as she looked him up and down—“whatever she has with you.”
He held a hand up, his temper rising. “Us?” he asked.
“Exactly.” A sneer stretched her lips. “And trust me, Erica did not take it as well as I did.” She jabbed him in the chest again. “You never should have laid a hand on her.”
Cord wanted to ask whether Maggie should have laid a hand on him. Because that weekend had come about purely due to her. He didn’t say that, though. The details were none of Arsula’s business. “We used protection,” he said instead. “We’re two consenting adults, neither of which set out to be in this situation.”
“Well, you may not have set out to be here, but you’re right smack in the middle of it now. And the question is”—she glared at him, her dark eyes fiery—“why would you turn your back on your own son? What kind of poor excuse for a human being are you?”
The kind his mother had raised, he wanted to reply.
The kind who not only didn’t save his mother when doing so had been his one purpose in the family, but the kind who’d also turned his back on a patient for the sole reason that he didn’t like how she treated her children.
He was the kind of human being who had already made far too many mistakes in his life, and who didn’t plan on putting himself in the position of making more. At least not at the level being in his son’s life would allow.
“It’s none of your business, Arsula.” He wanted to step away. He wanted to walk out of the building and never look back. Get in his truck and drive to Billings at breakneck speeds. “Nor is it my brothers’ business. She shouldn’t have told you.”
Some of her steam evaporated. “She bawled her eyes out to us last night, Cord.” Her own eyes seemed to glisten now. “She hates that you don’t want to be in the baby’s life. Take away the fact that you won’t be around to help her out, but you won’t be there for your son. Why? I know your childhood was rough. That you—”
“No,” he bit the word out. “You don’t get to talk to me about my childhood. That’s off-limits.”
She persisted. “I’ve talked about it with Jaden. I understand how she was. I get it.”
“I don’t care who you’ve talked to. Talking about it with me is not allowed!”
He did step away from her then, but instead of heading to the front doors and exiting the building, he strode toward the Women’s Pavilion. He wasn’t mad at Maggie for sharing the information. Not logically. He knew she had a right to talk with her friends, especially concerning matters that would make her bawl her eyes out.
He shook his head at the thought and tried not to picture it. He’d never wanted to make Maggie cry.
But damn, he sure wished she hadn’t talked. He wished . . .
He stopped walking again, once more simply standing in the middle of the hallway, his hands clenched into fists. He wished so many things, the least of which being that he was the type of man who could embrace the idea of having a child. Embrace, instead of wanting to run.
“Cord?” This time it was Maggie’s voice he heard. And that voice instantly soothed him.
“Maggie.” He brought his gaze to hers. She looked good today.
“What are you doing here?”
She stood in front of him in a pale-pink, long-sleeved top covered in lace and a pair of dark-washed jeans. She looked healthy and happy, and all Cord could think about was her crying her eyes out the night before. Because of him.
“I came to get you.” He blinked at his own words at the same time her brows shot up.
“I’m . . .” She glanced over his shoulder, and he realized Arsula had followed him across the lobby. “I’m not ready to go.” She spoke the sentence slowly. “I have another appointment to get to.”
Worry prickled at him. “Is something wrong?” He looked at her belly.
“No. It’s not for the baby.” One hand went to her stomach, and again, her gaze flicked over his shoulder. A small line creased her forehead as her eyes shifted back. “I’m meeting with a lawyer, Cord. Arsula will make sure I get back to the cabin.”
Her answer surprised him even more than his own statement had. “A lawyer?” This time it was he who looked at Arsula. “Why?” He glanced between the two women, his tone going flat.
“Because you apparently haven’t,” Arsula told him. He could feel her anger simmering again.
“I haven’t because I’m still thinking about how I want to proceed,” he told her.
“Are you thinking about proceeding by being in the baby’s life?” she tossed back.
“Arsula,” Maggie pleaded.
The other woman snapped her mouth closed and looked away from Cord, and he did the same.
He turned back to Maggie. “We talked about this yesterday, Maggie,” he coaxed.
“No. We didn’t. I tried to talk about it yesterday, and you averted the conversation. So, I’m handling it today. You don’t want to be in the baby’s life, and like I told you before, I’m fine with that.” She shot a hard look at Arsula when the other woman made a growling noise in the back of her throat. Then she turned back to Cord. “That’s your decision, and I can respect it. But my decision is that anymore ‘thinking’ about things ends here. There’s no need to wait.”
It suddenly felt as if a booming clock were ticking inside his head. “I’m not going to walk away and not provide support.” He spoke softly, aware that anyone nearby could hear them. “That’s unfair to you. Unfair to the baby.”
“Then fine, I can deal with that. You can pay support.”
Relief washed through him.
“But I won’t be taking any of the money directly,” she added.
Arsula stepped up beside them, but she didn’t speak.
“What I will do,” Maggie went on, “and this is nonnegotiable, is open a college fund. If the money is hanging you up that much, then we’ll settle on an amount—and I’ll even let you decide how much—and you can transfer the money into the fund each month.” She licked her lips before continuing. “Then . . . you sign away your rights. Because this is my child, Cord.” Her voice shook as she continued. “Not yours.”
He nodded, unable to agree verbally. He did not want to do that. At all. However, he could also see how important the issue was for her. He cou
ld still make arrangements for someone to keep an eye on the baby. She wouldn’t have to know.
“And then . . .” She paused once more, and when Cord got the impression she was about to start crying again, he finished for her. “Then we never speak to each other again.”
His voice ended with a shake of its own, and when she nodded in agreement, he nodded back. Neither of them said anything else because really, what else was there to say. But neither did they look away. They just stood there. Staring at each other.
At least until Arsula’s words pulled their attention. “Crap on a cracker,” she whispered.
Maggie jolted. “What?” She looked at her friend.
Arsula looked at him.
“What?” he asked, bemused.
“Crap,” Arsula said again, this time drawing the word out to make it two syllables. But before she could explain herself, both her phone and his dinged with an incoming text.
Arsula looked first, then her face blanched of color.
She held her screen up to them. “They’re rushing Harper into an emergency C-section. She suddenly started bleeding.”
Chapter Eleven
Maggie sat in the surgical waiting room with Harper’s family, as well as every member of the Wilde family, her hands clenched in her lap and her panic steadily escalating. Harper could die while delivering the babies. The babies could die before they even got out. Anything could happen in that delivery room, and there wasn’t a thing Harper or Nick could do to stop it!
She fervently hoped everyone would be okay.
She also wished that she’d taken Arsula’s offer of using her car and gotten away before ever stepping foot inside this room.
When the texts had come in, Arsula had immediately held her keys out to Maggie, telling her to take her car and get to her other appointment. But Maggie had rejected the idea. She couldn’t think about lawyers at a time like this. Harper was being rushed into surgery. So instead of leaving, she’d hurried along behind Arsula and Cord, weaving their way through the corridors that connected the medical offices to the hospital, and once here, she hadn’t been able to make herself walk away.
She couldn’t go anywhere until she made sure Harper was okay. That the babies survived.
She wasn’t super close to either Harper or Nick, but even so, she’d felt a sense of connectedness over the last several months simply due to the fact that Harper, too, would be delivering a Wilde baby. Babies. With her, Erica, Dani, and Maggie all pregnant—even though Maggie was the only one to know that her baby would be a part of their family, too—she’d not been able to distance herself like she probably should have.
She’d kept up with how Max was doing in his recovery. She’d checked in on progress with Dani and Harper, though usually those checks came via either Erica or Arsula. And she’d basically watched the family from a safe distance, all while wishing she could be a part of it. And now there she was.
And there she wished she wasn’t.
So many people were in the room now. They’d all converged, almost immediately. And all of them were there for each other, all having someone to rely on. While she sat by herself. Even Arsula and Erica seemed to have forgotten she’d come along. Maggie could understand that, though. Harper was family for them. And Harper was in danger. They needed to be sitting with the others, both giving and receiving comfort. And while they did that, Maggie would sit over here, spiraling in worry and wondering if anyone would show up for her when she delivered.
“Are you okay?” She looked to her right to find Dani approaching. She’d stepped away from her husband and their two daughters. “You look flushed,” Dani added. She held the back of her hand toward Maggie’s forehead, a questioning look in her eyes.
“I’m just worried,” Maggie explained, but she leaned toward the other woman, letting Dani’s cool fingers touch Maggie’s overheated skin. “I don’t always do hospitals well.”
That was an understatement.
Dani lowered to the chair beside her. “Do you want me to call someone for you? Or I’m sure—”
“No.” Maggie stopped her before she came up with a way to leave that would make it awkward to refuse. “Arsula offered to let me use her car, but I’d like to stay and make sure Harper’s okay. If you guys don’t mind, of course.”
Dani studied her thoughtfully. “Of course we don’t mind. You’re welcome to stick around as long as you’d like. And thank you for caring.”
Maggie nodded. “Sure.”
Dani’s blue eyes, so similar to Cord’s, continued to peer back at her. “But are you sure you’re okay? You’re breathing as if your heart rate may be up.” She nodded to Maggie’s belly. “We don’t need another emergency today. How about I see if a nurse can check you out?”
“I’ll check her.” Cord’s voice came from directly behind Dani, and Dani and Maggie both looked up. He hadn’t been in the room two minutes before. Instead, he’d disappeared through a Staff Only door as soon as they’d arrived, and Maggie hadn’t seen him again until now.
“How’s Harper?” Dani rose from her seat.
“She’s doing good.” The rest of the family had stopped talking, and all of them now paid rapt attention to Cord. “One of the placentas pulled away from the uterine wall,” he explained, and several of the people in the waiting room sucked in sharp breaths, including Maggie. A placental abruption could be bad for both baby and mom.
“They’re starting the C-section now,” Cord went on. “So, we should hear more soon.”
“Thank goodness they got her here in time,” someone muttered, but Maggie wasn’t yet convinced. She wouldn’t believe it until she heard that all survived.
Dani’s gaze suddenly jerked to the other side of the room, as if just remembering she no longer sat with her husband and kids. Then she looked down and offered Maggie a gentle smile.
“She’s too flushed,” she told Cord. “Make sure she’s alright?”
“Of course.”
Dani walked away, and though Cord didn’t immediately take the chair his sister had vacated, he studied Maggie. Maggie didn’t look up at him. She knew he was mad at her. And why wouldn’t he be? She’d let Arsula ambush him earlier.
The argument out in the lobby had caught her by surprise. Arsula and Erica had promised to keep the information to themselves the night before, at least temporarily. They’d sworn they wouldn’t say anything to Cord and would leave the matter in her hands. But clearly, that hadn’t been the case on Arsula’s part. Maggie just wished she knew what else had been said before she’d shown up.
“They figured it out on their own,” she muttered. “I didn’t tell them.”
“I don’t give a crap about that.”
She looked up then, and he lowered to the seat.
“At least, not at the moment,” he clarified. “I have too many other things to worry about right now.” He reached for her wrist to check her pulse. “What did the doctor say earlier? Dani is right, you’re too flushed.”
Maggie swallowed. “She said I was fine. Everything is still on track.”
“The swelling?” He reached a hand down to one of her ankles, and two fingers slipped under the hem of her jeans. He probed at the puffy skin.
“It’s still there,” she grumbled, and one corner of his mouth quirked up.
“Blood pressure?”
“Fine.”
“Any dilation?”
She started in surprise. He truly had gone into doctor mode. She just hoped he wasn’t about to check her there. But then again . . .
When he repeated his question with nothing more than a piercing look, she pushed the inappropriate thoughts aside. She shook her head. “Closed up tight like a chastity belt,” she confirmed, and once again his mouth twitched.
“Is it a panic attack then?” He leaned in, his back to his family, and his question for her ears only.
She nodded in reply.
Few people knew she struggled with the disorder, but he’d figured it out almost
immediately Friday night. She peered into his eyes. “I have it under control, though.”
“You’re remembering to breathe?”
“No. I’m sitting here without doing that. Thanks for the reminder.”
This time it wasn’t simply a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but a full-blown smile. “That’s why I like you, Maggie.” He was still leaning in. Still whispering. “Because you’re damned funny and because you make me smile.”
The Staff Only door opened then, and everyone in the room popped to attention. Nate, Gabe, and Cord stood. The person who’d come out wasn’t for them, however, and as spines once again relaxed and expectant faces morphed back to grim concern, Cord returned to Maggie. He again positioned himself in a way that blocked his family from her view, and when he dropped one hand to the armrest between them, he let one finger slip lower. That finger stroked over the lace covering her arm, and a whisper of a shiver danced through her.
“What Harper is going through is scary.” He spoke softly.
“I know that,” she replied in kind.
“But it’s not going to happen to you.”
She couldn’t pull her eyes off him. How could he even say that? “You have no clue what’s going to happen during my delivery, Cord. No one does.”
“Okay. That’s fair. But the chance of placental abruption is low for a standard pregnancy. You know that, right? It’s more likely with multiples. Complications of any kind are rare as long as the mother is healthy. And you keep telling me you’re healthy.”
“I am.”
His finger kept stroking.
“But that doesn’t mean something couldn’t happen,” she continued. “Even if the entire pregnancy goes perfectly, bad things can occur.” Her breaths grew shallow. “Things that can’t always be predicted. You know that. People die during delivery, Cord. People come out changed, different than when they went in. Babies”—she pressed her lips together, not wanting to imagine the worst, but she couldn’t keep from it—“they don’t always . . .”
