“You’ve got to come home, Cate.” Terror. Pure, cold terror. Something has happened to my sister. What happened to my sister?
In a split second I switch modes. It’s like I’m back behind the desk at Basiqué, dealing with a thousand things at once like it’s nothing. I shove my fear and my anger deep down into the center of me, where it can’t interfere with what I have to do.
“Is it Bee?” My voice is clear, strong. Get the necessary information. Move into action.
“Something went wrong…something…I don’t know exactly what,” Dex’s voice is choked. He’s doing his best to hold it together, but Bee is his wife, the love of his life. “She’s going into emergency surgery to deliver the twins right now.”
“I’m on my way.”
“She might not make it, Cate!” he cries, voicing his darkest fear for probably the first time since this nightmare began.
“She’ll be all right,” I tell him, projecting every ounce of confidence I have into my voice. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Get here. Just get here.”
He hangs up and I’m already walking, moving toward the door.
“Cate.”
I turn back to Jax one last time. I’m about to walk away from him forever, and I hardly care. I need to get to my sister. My family is the only thing that matters now. I raise my eyebrows. What does he have to say that’s so important?
“My private jet will be fueled up and ready to leave by the time you get to LaGuardia.”
I don’t want to take the offer, but I need to get to my sister.
“I’m not coming back.”
“I know.”
It’s his money, his plane. I can’t waste any time on refusing on principle, even if that makes me the worst goddamn person on the face of the earth.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I get into the elevator without looking back.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Cate
Less than four hours later, I’m staring through a glass window at the hospital’s NICU at the unbelievably tiny, perfect forms of my sister’s twin daughters.
Dex stands next to me, his exhaustion and worry and sheer joy all showing on his face. He needs a shave and his hair sticks up in every direction from running his hands through it all day.
“I can’t believe it, Dex,” I say, reaching over and squeezing his hand.
“I can’t either.”
The babies are incredible.
I only wish I could enjoy it more.
The flight only lasted an hour and a half. By the time we’d lifted off the runway I regretted the things I’d said to Jax, regretted what I’d done, and my heart caved right into my stomach.
What the hell was wrong with me?
What the hell is wrong with me?
I forced myself not to think about it the rest of the flight. My first and only priority had to be getting myself to Bee’s side.
When I arrived at the hospital, my parents were leaving for the night. They stayed until Bee made it safely to her recovery room.
In the lobby, they both hugged me tight, not letting go for a long time.
I guess no matter how old you get, you’re still your parents’ child.
Then I waited with Dex until the nurse came out to get him.
The actual C-section hadn’t taken very long, the nurse explained, but Bee had lost a lot of blood. Then she rattled off several medical terms that frankly I had no interest in.
“Is my sister going to be okay?”
“She’s stable now,” the nurse replied evenly, looking from me to Dex and back again. “As long as she’s given enough time to heal, she should be good as new.”
Then she guided Dex to the NICU. I stood next to him by the nursery window while he got the first glimpse of his daughters, and I joined him by the window, where we’ve been waiting for their condition to be assessed. It must be sheer torture not to be able hold them, but Dex’s eyes shine with his love, even though they’re framed by dark circles. He will wait as long as it takes.
A nurse comes through the door.
“Mr. Stevens?”
“That’s me.” He answers quickly, so eager to do anything he can.
“I know who you are, Mr. Stevens. Would you like to hold your daughters?”
“Oh, my God,” he says, tears coming to his eyes. “Yes, of course I would. Of course I would.”
The nurses let me stand nearby as he scrubs his arms up to the elbows and changes out of his shirt for a sterile gown, which they help him secure loosely, exposing his collarbone so the babies can get maximum skin-to-skin contact.
They’re premature, but not by so much that holding them will cause harm, explain the nurses as they gently place the two bundles, attached to wires and monitors, into his arms.