Even though it had only been three days, it felt like forever since I had last entered the hospital. Maybe it was vanity, or maybe I just needed to remind myself that it was there, that I looked to my mural. It was somewhat old news now. Anyone who worked there would get used to it, and new people probably didn’t come to see my painting. A few kids sat in front of it while their parents were on the phone. They stuck their fingers up the painting of the grandfather’s nose.
At least they’re smiling, I thought, walking to the nurses station. “Can you let me know when I can see a Mr. Toby Wesley, please?”
“Gwen?”
Turning, I saw Ian come up to me, handing the chart to the nurse and smiling.
“Welcome. I thought you and Eli went on a getaway?”
“We came back today. Do you remember Toby Wesley? Molly’s father. He lives in our building, and we ran into him. He was really messed up. The ambulance should have just brought him here,” I said to him.
He frowned. “Eli came in with them?”
I nodded.
“We have a better chance of finding out at the ER. Follow me.” He pointed in that direction and I followed, vaguely remembering the highway crash that had led me there the first time. This time, thankfully, it was much tamer when we got there.
After walking us to the nurses station near the door of the area, Ian turned to the nearest nurse. “Has a Toby Wesley been checked in?”
“We have a record of him. He’s being prepped for emergency surgery.” He nodded, about to walk off, then stopped. “Dr. Davenport?”
“Just got an update that he is assisting.”
Ian frowned. “Call the chairwoman and let her know. I’ll go try and pull him out now—”
“We’ve got a doctor coming in now.” A nurse hung up the phone, rushing toward the door.
“Who?” Ian said, already grabbing gloves.
“They said it was Dr. Michaels,” the nurse said.
“Hannah?” He went toward the door as the paramedics brought in a woman who couldn’t have been Hannah. I took a step back as they wheeled her in. My heart started to race, and blood pumped to my ears.
“What happened?” Ian asked, looking into her eyes.
“She was out at lunch with a few other people from the clinic and fainted. She came to a little bit before demanding to be brought here.”
My eyes were glued to her stomach. Her clearly pregnant stomach.
It’s Sebastian’s. It’s Sebastian’s.
“She said the baby’s father was a doctor here.”
I wanted to collapse, but it made better sense to run…to run far, far away from all of this.
Eli
Stepping out of the OR two hours later than I would have hoped, I stretched and pulled off my cap to find my mother and Ian both waiting for me. Ignoring them, I went to the sink to wash my hands. “I know what you guys are going to say. No, I didn’t officially come back yet. But I brought him in, and I wasn’t going to just drop him off and go on my way again,” I told them, but neither spoke as I turned around. “Mom, it’s fine. I only stood watch; I didn’t operate in any way, though we are going to have to put him on the donor list.”
“Sweetheart, we aren’t here about that,” my mother whispered, pushing off the wall, her arms folded. “Just listen to me—”
“Is it Guinevere? Is she all right? She said she was coming here, and I haven’t—”
“It’s not Gwen, Eli,” Ian stated as I was already halfway out the door.
“If it’s not Guinevere and it’s not Logan or my mother, why do you all look like someone died?” I snapped at them.
“Hannah came in—”
“If this is about Hannah, Mom, I—”
“Listen to me, Eli!” she yelled.
I went still. “Hannah came in, bleeding…she’s pregnant. She has cervical insufficiency and her water broke. We are trying to slow down her labor, but there is only so much we can do, you know that.”
“You guys can’t possibly think it’s mine. She was having an affair, you know that, right?” They couldn’t be serious. “Shit, did Guinevere hear any of this? She might have gotten—”
“Hannah had a non-invasive prenatal DNA test, twice, from a toothbrush you left at her place, and both times you came out as the father. 99.97% positive,” Ian kept spitting out the nonsense.
My brain couldn’t wrap around it at all, and I felt nothing but panic.
“Eli, I checked her charts. She is going to give birth, and you are going to be the father of a tiny, premature baby, so you need to go—”
“Mother.” I stopped her, shaking my head. “What I need to do is make sure Mr. Wesley doesn’t drink himself to death so I can put him on the donor list. Then I need to call Logan, well, because that little brat isn’t answering his phone, lost it or something. Then I need to unpack, because 24 hours ago we were in Cypress, Alaska. And 24 hours ago, being a father was nowhere on my list of accomplishments. So I don’t know what Hannah told you, or why you are—”