“Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I take the set of car keys she hands me and listen to her tell me where she parked before I leave the room.

When I get to the parking garage, it doesn’t take me very long to find Mom’s bright-red convertible. She bought it as a gift to herself when Jacob graduated high school, and she no longer needed a large SUV to haul him and all his sports equipment around in. Getting behind the wheel, I type Dayton a message letting him know that I’m going home. Almost immediately, he responds with a message telling me to check in when I get there and that he should be done with his meetings by three, so he will meet me back at the hospital. I almost message him back that he should just go home after work, but I know he’d ignore me and show up anyway.

If there’s one thing this situation has taught me, it’s that Dayton doesn’t put work before the people in his life that he considers important. It’s a quality that I appreciate more than he could possibly understand. We’ve never really talked about how Matthew’s job consumed our life or how I felt like an afterthought most days. I know for certain that Matthew would not have taken time off from work to just sit with me in the hospital. He would have said the doctors and nurses could handle it, leaving me feeling crazy for even wanting him to be there.

After messaging Willow to let her know that I’m on the way, I place my cell in the cup holder and leave the parking garage. As usual, traffic is heavy, so it takes forever to get across town. Then it takes me even longer to find a place to park when I reach my block.

Grabbing my purse from the passenger seat, I push open the door and start to get out but stop when I feel an ache begin in my lower abdomen. It’s similar to when I have my period, and the feeling catches me by surprise. I haven’t had any cramping since I got pregnant, and I’m not sure if it’s normal.

“You okay?”

Looking up, I find Tucker just a few feet away, and get out with my purse, closing the door. “I think so.”

“You think so?” he asks, studying me through the dark sunglasses he has on.

“Yeah, it’s just some light cramping.” I laugh, but he doesn’t laugh along with me. Instead, his expression becomes one of concern, which freaks me out—especially since he has a wife who recently had a baby, so he likely knows what’s normal and what’s not.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad are the cramps?”

“I don’t know... a two, maybe three,” I whisper.