Page 52 of The Heir
"You're okay," she mumbles. "You're okay. Don't wake your wife."
"Wife—Melody!" I suck in hissing breath. She sleeps peacefully in a hospital bed that matches mine. The machine hooked up to her finger beeps along with her heartbeat, too. Strong. Constant. A little bit softer, though—as if the nurses turned down the volume. Seeing her so peacefully sleeping melts my heart.
"What time is it?" I whisper to the nurse.
She points to the window. Heavy shades are drawn, blocking out most of the light, but the sun shines brightly around the edges. "Around noon."
"Jesus," I huff. "How long has she been asleep?"
"Not long enough. You need to rest, too. You've only been in this room for a few hours." She marks something down on my chart. "Since you're awake, though, can you rate your pain on a scale from one to ten?"
"Zero. Doesn't matter." I wave a hand dismissively. "Who are you?"
"Rebecca." She gives me a tight smile.
"And you… speak English without an accent."
"I do," she agrees with a nod. "I'm from Florida."
"And… where are we?"
Her eyes widen. "Jesus, what happened to you guys? You're in Mexico. Tunkas, to be exact."
Fuck. Hannah wasn't lying—though the climate seemed to suggest as much. "And whereis that?"
"Yucatan. You're only a couple hours of driving away from Cancun, if that helps."
"It does," I mumble. Again, fuck. We were held captive by Ella for god knows how long. We're in the Middle of Nowhere, Mexico. I don't remember how long it took us to drive here. I just kept going, trying to find civilization, following signs that had the international symbol for "hospital" emblazoned on them.
"Well, good. Since Dr. Martinez and I are the only ones who know English, we'll be taking care of you." She gently pats my arm. "If you're ready to be awake… showers are over there." She throws a thumb over her shoulder, pointing to a rickety door in the corner of the room.
Another nurse bustles into the room holding a sheet of paper, whispering in rapid-fire Spanish to Rebecca. The two women converse in hushed tones, and I feel so helpless just watching. I curse myself—again—for not knowing Spanish. Ridiculous of me, to be quite honest. I know some rudimentary French from my prep school days, but that's absolutely fucking useless right now.
"What's happening?" I hiss.
"You'll see," Rebecca murmurs. She creeps over to Melody and gently jiggles her shoulder. My wife scrunches her face in annoyance, grunting under her breath. "Mrs. Lyons. Hi. Can you wake up for me?"
"Uh?" Melody grumbles. Her beautiful brown eyes flutter open, and she fixes Rebecca with a glare. "Huh?"
"Hi there. I'm Rebecca, and I'm sorry, honey. But we need to start an IV on you."
"Why?" Melody and I ask in a chorus.
Rebecca looks back and forth between us with a tight smile. "She needs extra nutrients."
"Again, why?" I press.
"Because…." Rebecca sucks in a breath. "Congratulations, Mrs. Lyons. You're pregnant."
Melody
"How?" I demand. "How the fuck? What? What do you mean, I'm pregnant?"
I look over to my husband, who seems just as shocked as I am. His face goes pale, and his heart monitor beeps rapidly, but he doesn't say a word. Turning my attention back to Rebecca, I throw my hands up.
"Well, typically—when aman and a woman love each other very much." She laughs. "When was the last time you had unprotected sex?"
"I don't know!" I yell. "I don't know what day it isnow!"
