by Kelly Rimmer
“Heartburn,” she says uneasily, motioning vaguely toward the top of her abdomen. “Normal pregnancy problems, Jess. It’s fine.”
I scan down her body.
Severe swelling.
Headache.
Heartburn.
Upper abdominal pain.
A memory rises like a bubble and pops at the front of my thoughts. I’m sitting in my room at Grandma Chloe’s apartment on the Upper East Side. It’s late at night and I’m scared to make too much noise because I don’t want to wake her up. She gets so upset when I’m upset, and that’s why I’m silently weeping as I read through page after page of internet forum postings.
Right now, my vision is tunneling on Abby. I’m suddenly, frighteningly sober.
“Babe. Listen to me,” I whisper urgently as I lean even closer to her. “You need to call your OB. You need to do it right now.”
“I will tomorrow,” she promises me. A waiter pushes open the kitchen door, and her face is suddenly properly illuminated. My stomach drops all over again.
“I don’t think it can wait,” I say. My voice sounds faraway and tinny. I hope I’m projecting an air of urgency, but I also need her to think I’m calm because the last thing I want to do is panic her. Inside though, I am a swirling torrent of anxiety and uncertainty. Abby gives me a weak smile and promises me, “I don’t want to make a fuss tonight. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Eric will get angry if I make a fuss. I can’t make a fuss. I’m sure it’s going to be fine. It has to be fine.
There’s some serious shit in my past, but I will not be the kind of woman who lets it float to the surface in a moment of crisis. I press the memories down—hard—and squeeze Abby’s swollen hand.
“Abby. Please,” I whisper. “I think we need to get you to an emergency room.”
She stares back at me, but her gaze is unfocused.
“They deserve this night to go perfectly. We haven’t even cut the cake yet, Jess. I’ll pop some Tylenol and if I’m still feeling unwell later, I’ll call my OB. Okay?” She hesitates, then admits uncertainly, “It’s just . . . I know she’s out of town this weekend, but I can call . . . maybe there’s an on-call number . . .”
Abby is scared to cause a scene. Abby is scared to put people out.
I feel that membrane inside me burst as surely as if it was a physical thing, and just like that I know I’m going to lose my shit. The best I can hope for now is to hold myself together until I can get Abby some help.
I rise, then smile and nod as if she’s convinced me.
“Sure. You rest up. I’ll go fetch you some Tylenol.”
There are almost one hundred people in the reception hall, some dancing on the dance floor at the center of the room, the rest mingling around the tables chatting. I scan the room, and when my gaze lands on Jake, now standing with a group of the programmers near the kitchen, everything else fades away. The next thing I know, I’m slipping my arm into the crook of his elbow and flashing my staff a brilliant smile.
“Sorry, gentlefolk. Could I please borrow Dr. Winton here for a moment?” I say brightly. I sound totally at ease and confident. I don’t know if I’m proud or ashamed of the way I can project this shiny veneer even while I’m dissolving into a puddle of utter terror.
Jake opens his mouth to protest, but I’m already leading him away from the group. He’s much stronger—he could easily resist if he wanted to—and I feel the tension in his muscles. He’s considering it. Please, Jake. Please come with me. But soon enough, he’s come as far as the exit to the foyer. I push the door open, and my gaze lands on a disabled restroom. I’m going to break, and I need privacy to do it, and the urgency to lock myself away before I lose my grip on my composure is driving my footsteps faster and faster. I’m almost running now, but Jake’s stride is so long he keeps up easily. When he realizes where we’re headed, he tenses again and stops walking altogether.
“Are you fucking serious right now? I’m not hooking up with you tonight,” he hisses, voice low and flat. “And I’m sure as shit not hooking up with you in a restroom.”
I shake my head mutely. I’m going to break, and the best I can hope for is to do it behind closed doors.
I pull on his arm, hard, push the door open with my bare foot, then release his arm and run inside. Jake does follow me, albeit with visible reluctance. When the door closes behind him, he turns and then, with a heavy sigh, flicks the lock closed.
By the time he turns back to me, that membrane between my feelings and my facade has entirely dissolved. I’ve wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to warm myself up, because I feel so cold . . . so scared. Words cycle on a loop through my brain and I can’t focus on anything else but the fear and the panic.
Abby’s in trouble. She’s in trouble and she doesn’t know it. She doesn’t want to make a fuss, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know that if she doesn’t get help—
Jake knocks the seat down on the toilet and those big, strong hands land on my shoulders, then he guides me to sit. I am putty in his hands . . . weak, trembling putty. I’m hardly one to suffer low self-esteem, but right in this moment, I am everything I hate.
“Jess? What is it?” Jake’s voice is so gentle. I blink and focus my gaze.
“I think Abby has preeclampsia. Maybe even HELLP syndrome.”
I croak the words out, and see the shock and concern register in Jake’s face. Those eyes—my God, those beautiful green-blue eyes are so kind. I’m frantically blinking away tears at the unquestioning empathy and compassion Jake offers me.
He’s the best man I ever knew, and I hurt him so much.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Jake says. I guess this is what Dr. Winton sounds like in action. His voice is firm and soft, all at the same time. His eyes have locked with mine and I know I have every ounce of his focus and attention.
“Her shoes fit last night. But her feet are so swollen they didn’t fit this morning. That’s why we didn’t wear—” It suddenly occurs to me that I’m barefoot in a public restroom and I shudder. Focus, Jessica. “That’s why we didn’t wear shoes for the ceremony. She’s swollen all over now and it’s getting worse so quickly. And she’s got a headache—she’s trying to be brave, but I can see she’s in pain. And the heartburn, Jake.” I’m pleading with him with my gaze. Help her. Please. Help her. “It came on so suddenly a few days ago and she’s in so much pain her posture is all funny because she can’t sit normally. She doesn’t want to make a f-fuss but she needs help and she just doesn’t know. She doesn’t know it can all slip away.”
I’m speaking so fast that he probably can’t even understand me. Jake’s hands on my shoulders tighten. He’s crouching before me now, so tall that when he kneels, our eyes are almost level.
“Jess, I need you to take a deep breath,” he says gently. “You’re starting to hyperventilate.”
“But Abby—”
“We can’t help Abby if you pass out in a toilet. Breathe with me, sweetheart. That’s it.”
I’ve been terrified of this ever since Abby told me she wanted to have a baby—not that she’d get sick, but that I’d project my own shit onto her and see complications where there were none. I’ve had friends become pregnant before and it’s always been fine, but I knew it would be harder with a close friend like Abby.
I’m staring at Jake, breathing in time with him, conscious of the heat on my cheeks. I’m so ashamed of my weakness right now, I can barely stand it. I could have gone to Mitchell. But he knows about my past and he might have focused on me instead of Abby. That would have cost time, and I just don’t know how much time Abby and her babies have.
My instincts drew me to Jake. Whatever is going on here, real or imagined, he will scoop all of this up in those massive bear claws of his and if it needs to be sorted out, he’ll know how to sort it.
Even as these thoughts filter through my addled mind, I feel myself start to calm.
“Do you think she’s in trouble?” I whisper.
> “It doesn’t sound good,” he admits, then he puffs out a breath of air. I can see the wheels turning in his mind, and I’m suddenly convinced that he has this under control. The last of my panic recedes, and I straighten my posture, rising out of the slump I’d fallen into. Jake must see the calm returning too, because he stands from his squat and gives me a searching look.
“Are you okay now?”
“I’m fine,” I say, a little stiffly. Fucking hell. I can see confusion in his eyes and I know that once we get Abby sorted out, he’s going to ask me some questions I can’t answer. “How do we get her to a hospital without panicking her?”
“You’re going to go out and quietly let Isabel and Paul know that she’s leaving. I’m going to go get Marcus, and I’ll take them straight to an emergency room.”
I throw my arms around his neck and press my face into his shoulder.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
His arms wind around my waist, then contract. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll look after her. You just go and take care of Izzy and Paul.”
I glance in the mirror as I leave the restroom. My mask is back in place, and I look fine—in fact, I look fantastic. I pause just for an extra second to admire the fact that my hair is still perfectly in place. My lipstick could do with a touch-up, so I’ll grab my clutch and come back to tidy it up, but beyond that, I look just as polished and poised as I did when we left the hotel this morning.
If I keep projecting this sense of calm and purpose, no one will ever know.
That’s been a principle I’ve relied on since I came to New York seventeen years ago, and it’s still working for me even now.
CHAPTER TEN
Jake
I’VE SEEN A lot of shocking things over the years of my medical career, but this is something else. Not Abby—I haven’t even seen her yet.
I’m talking about Jess. The fierce, unflappable Jessica Cohen, who just dissolved into an absolute fucking puddle at the thought of her friend being unwell. The proud, sometimes cold Jess, hyperventilating at the thought of Abby’s pregnancy being in danger.
And probably even more mystifying—how the hell does Jess know about an obscure, rare pregnancy complication like HELLP syndrome? I did a six-month OB-GYN rotation as part of my residency and I saw a single case of it.
“Hey, Jake,” Marcus greets me as I approach him. He’s chatting with a waiter, nursing a glass of what I know is water, because earlier he told me that our beer at the bar was all he’d drink today, just in case Abby needed him. He must see something in my gaze, because he leaves the waiter and steps close. “What’s up? You look . . .”
“Abby needs to go to an emergency room, Marcus,” I say quietly. I’m used to delivering bad news, so I know from experience that the direct approach is best. Marcus’s eyes widen, and he’s suddenly scanning the room.
“But I just saw her ten minutes ago—”
“Jess tells me she’s quite swollen and suffering from a severe headache. She doesn’t want to let Izzy and Paul down, but since she’s pregnant, those symptoms are concerning. We need to get her checked out, and we need to do it right now.”
Marcus is already walking away from me, so I quickly drop my hand onto his shoulder. He turns back, looking almost as panicked as Jess did five minutes ago.
God, I miss these guys. I miss our close-knit friendship circle. I’ve made new friends in California, but these people were my people, in a way I don’t think I’ll ever really replace.
“You can’t panic her, okay?” I say gently. “We need to keep her calm.”
Marcus nods curtly, and then I follow him around the dance floor. Abby is just where Jess said she’d be—sitting in a dark corner by the kitchen.
Jess was right—Abby’s face is starting to swell. She’s got her eyes closed and she’s now propped one elbow on the back of another chair so she can rest her head on her shoulder without slumping forward. I glance at her feet, and feel a chill run up my spine.
If her blood pressure isn’t sky high right now, I’ll eat my hat. During that residency all of those years ago, if a patient came to me with symptoms like these I’d have been sprinting for my attending. Hell, even if a nonpregnant patient presented like this now, my adrenaline would be pumping.
“Hey there, my love,” Marcus murmurs, crouching beside her. Abby opens her eyes and smiles.
“Having fun?” she asks.
“I have been,” he says, then he smiles right back at her. “Abs, we’re going to go to the hospital now, okay?”
“What? No!” Abby protests. “I’m fine—”
“You aren’t fine,” Marcus says softly. “I know you’re trying to be brave and you don’t want to steal Izzy’s limelight, but I can see it in your face. You’re in pain, and we need to get you checked out.”
“It’s probably nothing. All of these things are just part of pregnancy,” Abby says, but her voice is thick, and finally, there’s real fear in her gaze. She glances at me, and a tear slides onto her cheek. “Tell him, Jake. Tell him this is all normal.”
I walk to her other side and slide my hand under her elbow, gently easing her to her swollen feet.
“If it was just a bit of swelling in your feet after you’d been standing all day, or heartburn that you’d had for a while, or even a mild headache, I’d agree with you,” I say quietly. “But, Abby, you’re swollen all over, and I know you’ve got tenderness in your right upper abdomen. Am I right?”
“Some,” she admits reluctantly. I can tell just from her grimace as she straightens that by some, she means a lot.
“We just need to get you checked out. We’ll go to the emergency room and they’ll run a few tests, and if this is nothing, you’ll be home and in bed, resting easy by midnight. How does that sound?”
“But Paul and Izzy—”
“Jess has gone to let them know what’s happening. They’ll understand. I know they’d want you to get checked out much more than they’d want you here for the cake.”
“But I was really looking forward to that cake,” Abby says weakly. Marcus chuckles softly as he promises her, “I’ll text Jess and get her to save you some.”
We make it out of the reception area and into the foyer without much fuss. There, Marcus helps Abby into a chair, and I call for a car on my phone. I’d call an ambulance, except that my old hospital is only a mile away, so it won’t be any faster and I don’t want to panic her.
“The car is three minutes away,” I assure them.
“I’m sorry,” Abby whispers, in tears again. “I’m ruining their night. I feel so bad about it.”
“Isabel is glad to be rid of you,” Jess announces suddenly, walking proudly across the room to crouch beside her friend. “No one wants a bridesmaid outshining them on their big day. You’re lucky she didn’t send you home earlier.”
“Yeah, I’m sure I look fantastic right now,” Abby whispers, grabbing Jess’s hand. “I’m scared, Jess.”
“You’re going to be absolutely fine,” Jess says firmly.
“Will you come with me?”
She hides it pretty well, but I see a flash of fear in Jess’s face that I just don’t understand. She blinks it away, then raises her chin.
“Are you sure you want me there? You’ll have Marcus . . .”
“I was going to come too,” I add. “But I can stay—”
“No. You come too,” Abby interrupts me.
“So Paul and Izzy’s entire bridal party is leaving their reception?” Marcus says hesitantly.
Jess and Abby are staring at each other now. Abby’s hands are linked with Jess’s in a vise grip.
“I’m scared, Jess,” Abby says again, and her face crumples and she starts to sob. “I’ve been telling myself all day that this is nothing to be worried about but now that you’re all rushing me off to the emergency room, it’s suddenly real. Please come with me.”
Jess throws her arms around Abby and I hear her whisper, “O
f course I’ll come. We’re all here for you, and you and the babies are going to be fine.”
“The Uber is here,” I say slowly. I glance among the four of us. “I’m not even sure we’ll fit. It’s a Prius.”
“We’ll make it work,” Jess says. There’s not even a hint of a wobble in her voice now—she’s back to her calm, intimidating herself, and that makes it impossible to argue with her. Before I know it, we’re all walking toward the front door, Jess and Marcus on either side of Abby.
Marcus helps Abby into the car, then folds himself up to take the middle, so Jess can take the other side. I automatically move to the front passenger’s seat—there’s no way I’ll fit in the back. Just as I move to slide into the car, the front door to the event space opens and Mitch appears. He runs out toward us, a frantic expression on his face. I’m confused by how distressed he seems—I know he and Abby aren’t close—but then I realize his gaze is on Jess. She steps away from the car and pushes him back a few feet away from us, so I can’t hear what they’re saying. Are they arguing? He’s visibly frustrated and he grips her forearms, then pulls her close and plants a kiss on her cheek before Jess runs back to the car. Mitch gives me a slightly stiff wave, and I frown as I wave back.
“Let’s go,” Jess breathes. The driver signals to leave the curb, and she leans forward to nod toward me as she murmurs, “If you get us there fast, I’ll make sure he tips you so well you can take the rest of the night off. Got it?”
The driver grins and tears into the traffic, just as my phone vibrates. I slide it from my pocket and see a text from Mitchell.
Don’t ask me why but keep an eye on Jess tonight. She’s not great with hospitals at the best of times and this situation is nothing like the best of times. She’s only going because Abby asked her to.
I glance toward the back seat. They really are crammed in like sardines back there. Abby is crying silently, her head on Marcus’s shoulder. Jess is staring at her lap.
She looks calm, but suddenly I know she’s not. And Abby’s situation is frightening, but I still don’t understand how Jess even knew to be so concerned.