Page 98 of Love Sick

“What’s wrong?”

He swallows. “Can I come in?”

I allow him clearance. He moves to the middle of the living room, staring at the floating shelves above the couch, full of unlit candles.

“Julian?” I touch his elbow.

“Remember that patient from the ICU this morning?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong?”

“The language barrier… We were wrong about the miscarriage.” That dead tone to his voice laces shards of ice through my veins. “She had a home birth. The baby was delivered, but whoever delivered her didn’t deliver the placenta.”

Oh, that’s why her ultrasound looked so weird. Duh.

“She delivered the babyfour days ago, Grace. Perfectly healthy baby girl.”

My mouth drops. “She had a placenta inside her the whole time?”

His head dips. “We got it out. Smelled awful. Got her to the ICU. She started bleeding. Took her back to the OR. Bled out five liters before we took her uterus. But she was bleeding from everywhere by that point.”

Oh no. I see where this is going, and a deep ache wakes in my chest. He came here for comfort, didn’t he? Something bad happened, and he came straight to me. As he continues speaking, my arms slide around his neck, and I compulsively inch closer to him. I want to hold him, squeeze him until that hollowness disappears from his eyes. His stiff hands settle on my waist, and his gaze meets mine, utterly lost.

“She coded on the table,” he whispers. “We tried to bring her back for an hour. Scarlett called time of death at 5:02.”

“Shedied?” I can’t believe what he’s saying. The woman was sick when I left, but stabilizing, and now she’s dead. Humans are so fragile. It’s terrifying.

Who left a placenta in her for four days? That person is a murderer!

“She died,” he says, voice flat. “The dad brought the baby before she started bleeding. A perfect baby girl.”

His eyes slide shut when he finishes speaking.

“Oh, sweetie.” I move closer. “I’m so sorry.”

He hums deep in his chest.

“The baby’s healthy, right, Julian?”

He dips his head, resting his forehead on mine. “Yeah.”

“At least there’s that. A healthy baby.” I nudge his nose with mine.

“Without a mom.” He pulls tight on my waist and his breath hitches. “I never told you why I chose OB-GYN, did I?”

I shake my head.

“My dad died when I was two, so it was always just Mom and my sisters. We’re all really close. When I was fifteen, she almost died when her gynecologist wouldn’t listen to her. Nearly bled to death before they took her uterus. And I wasfifteen. I would have had fifteen years with her. That baby had four days. What if I’d just interviewed the patient more, Grace? Really listened to her. Would I have caught something that could’ve changed this?”

“She didn’t speak English, Julian. I tried the language line, and they had no one with her dialect.”

“I know.” He sighs. “It’s just—today was a terrible day.”

“I’m so sorry.” I’m flush against him now, trying to soothe him, the heat of his body pressed to mine from chest to knee.

“It was a terrible day, and after it all happened, I kept thinking that if I could make it home, make it here, to you, everything would feel just a little bit lighter.”

My skin synchronizes to his heartbeat as I slide my arms more snugly around his neck. “Lighter?” I put a playful lilt in my tone. “Aren’t I the bane of your existence?”

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