Page 17 of The Space He Left
I felt my stomach drop. The Miller job was a big contract, one we couldn't afford to lose. "I'll call her as soon as I can."
"Jack, I'm a foreman, not a business manager. I can't keep covering for you like this."
The elevator doors opened, and the older woman stepped in, but not before giving Madison's hand a gentle squeeze. "Take care of yourself, dear. And you," she looked at me with a meaningful expression, "take good care of your wife. She's lucky to have such a devoted husband."
I watched the elevator doors close, realizing I'd never corrected her assumption. Madison had heard the exchange too, and when I looked at her, I caught something in her expression – a small, satisfied smile that she quickly covered.
"Pete, I'll handle the Miller situation," I said into the phone. "Just give me a few hours."
"How many hours? Mrs. Miller wants answers today, and I'm running out of excuses for why the owner of the company is never available."
I looked at Madison, who was watching me with those green eyes that had always been able to see right through me. She looked so small, so vulnerable in her oversized hoodie.
"I'll be there this afternoon," I said finally.
"This afternoon might be too late."
I hung up and turned to Madison, who immediately reached for my hand. "Work problems?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
"Nothing I can't handle later."
We sat in the waiting area for what felt like hours. Madison dozed against my shoulder, and I found myself checking my phone repeatedly, watching messages from Pete pile up. Each one sounded more urgent than the last.
When Madison's name was finally called, she gripped my hand tightly. "Will you wait for me?" she asked, and I could hear genuine fear in her voice.
"Of course."
I watched her walk through the doors, noting that her step seemed steadier than it had been in weeks. Maybe the treatment was starting to work. Maybe she was getting stronger.
My phone buzzed with a text from Harper:Feeling some contractions. Lisa's here, but wanted to let you know.
I stared at the message, my heart rate spiking. Harper was now eight and a half months pregnant. Contractions could mean labor was starting. But she'd mentioned Lisa was there, and Harper had always been so independent, so capable of handling things on her own.
I typed back:Braxton Hicks? Keep me posted.
Another text from Pete:Miller job is falling apart. Need you here NOW.
I stood up, pacing the small waiting area. Madison was in treatment. Harper was having contractions, but she had her friend looking after her. Pete was dealing with a business crisis that could cost us thousands of dollars.
My phone rang. Harper's name on the screen.
I looked toward the treatment area doors, then at my phone. Madison had specifically asked me to wait for her. She'd been soscared, so dependent on my presence for her emotional stability. But Harper was potentially in labor with our daughter.
The phone stopped ringing.
Madison emerged from the treatment area just then, looking exhausted but somehow less fragile than when she'd gone in.
"How did it go?" I asked.
"Hard, but okay. The nurses said my numbers look good." She leaned against me as we walked to the elevator. "I'm so tired, Jackie. Can you stay with me at the hotel for a while?"
"I need to check on Harper. She was having contractions."
Madison's face immediately crumpled with concern. "Oh no. Is she okay? Is the baby okay?"
"Her friend's with her."
"But shouldn't you be there too? Jackie, if Harper's in labor...I'll be fine on my own."
