Page 104 of Her Ex's Father
She leads me down the hall, and I nearly falter when I see Maddie.
She’s on the bed, sweat dampening her hair, her face pale but determined. Every contraction wracks her, her hands clutching the rails, but when her eyes find mine—God, she tries to smile.
“Ben.” Her voice is hoarse. “You made it.”
My chest cracks wide open. I’m at her side in two strides, taking her hand, pressing it to my lips. “Of course I did. I’m here.”
She squeezes my hand so hard it hurts, and I welcome the pain. At least, I tell myself, she’s here and not caught out in the storm or in a vehicle that can’t move.
The doctor steps in, urgency written all over her face. “She hasn’t had an epidural. Labor is progressing too quickly, but the baby is in distress. We need to move to an emergency c-section. Full sedation.”
The words slam into me like a fist. Sedation. Surgery. Maddie unconscious while they cut her open. This isn’t anything like what I experienced with Georgiana, with Derrick—that was just anormallabor, a long one but steady.
This feels anything but steady, with a handful of people already coordinating the surgical room and equipment needed.
“No,” I rasp, instinctively.
“Yes.” Maddie’s voice is firm despite her exhaustion. She grips my hand, her eyes blazing. “Ben. Sign it. Please.”
I shake my head, reeling. “Maddie?—”
“Trust me,” she says, fierce and clear. “Like I trust you.”
The nurse hands me the clipboard, the consent form, the pen. Her signature is already on it, allowing me to makeany decisions while she’s unconscious. My hands shake. For a moment I can’t breathe, can’t think.
She’s giving this to me. Her life, our daughter’s life. The weight of it nearly brings me to my knees.
I scrawl my name. The pen nearly snaps under my grip.
The team wheels her away, and I follow as far as I can until a nurse blocks me at the OR doors.
“Sir, you can’t come in.”
My chest heaves. The storm rages outside, a mixture of snow and sleet rattling the windows, blocking out the city around us. Maddie’s last look burns in my memory—tired, in pain, but brave. Sure.
The doors swing shut.
And I’m left outside, drenched in fear, praying to a God I haven’t spoken to in decades.
Please. Don’t take them from me.
Chapter 39
Madeline
Light.
I blink against it, my head thick and heavy, the world soft at the edges. My body feels foreign—numb in places, trembling in others. For a moment, panic claws at me. Something happened. Something bad.
And then I feel it.
A hand wrapped around mine, steady, warm. The faintest squeeze, like an anchor.
Ben.
I turn my head slowly, lids heavy, and there he is. Sitting close, leaning forward like he hasn’t moved in hours. His hair looks almost stringy as if it’s dried from being drenched, his shirt rumpled, his eyes bloodshot and fixed on me like I’m the only thing keeping him upright.
“Hey,” he says, voice rough. “You’re awake.”
