Olivia’s child could take as long or longer.
He ambled into the emergency room, gave his name at the desk and flashed his ID as a member of the board. “I want to be apprised of Olivia Engle’s condition every step of the way.”
The receptionist shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. But our privacy policy prevents that unless you’re family.” She gave him a hopeful look, clearly not wanting to get into a battle of wills with a hospital director.
Tucking his key card into his jacket pocket, he put her out of her misery. “Check with Mr. Engle. He’ll tell you it’s okay.”
She walked away, and, a few minutes later, she returned and told him that Olivia had been taken upstairs to the maternity ward.
Haunted, afraid to go back to the part of the hospital that had the good memories, memories of Blake being born, of holding his son for the first time, of wrapping the tiny, squiggly bundle in a blanket before securing him in his car seat, Ricky took his time walking to the elevator and then down the long cool corridor to the waiting room of the maternity ward.
An hour went by. He sat. He paced. He sat some more, elbows on his knees, hands dropped between his legs. Eventually, he stood, untied his tie, undid the first two buttons of his shirt and walked to the intensive care unit in the children’s ward, where he stood by the window and stared at the empty cribs.
If he closed his eyes, he could see his son bandaged and bruised, an IV locked into his hand, his little chest barely rising and falling as a ventilator did his breathing for him.
Tears filled his eyes, reviving his shame. Then he realized Tucker’s baby might be too small, too weak, and the newest member of the happy Engle family might spend his or her first days or weeks or even a year in the same crib as Blake.
His shame morphed into fear. Real fear that Tucker and Olivia might face the devastation of losing a child. He could feel every bit of sorrow that would overwhelm them and cursed. That shouldn’t happen to anyone. But Olivia and Tucker? They were special. They didn’t deserve this.
The rustle of skirts interrupted the quiet, and he turned to see Eloise walking down the hall.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” He frowned. “This is a private ward. How’d you get in here?”
She showed him a key card. “Tucker gave me this and said to find you. How did you get in here?”
He pulled the key card just like Tucker’s from his tuxedo jacket pocket.
“Wow. You two must be some big-time donors.”
“We’re on the board.” He sucked in a breath. “How’s Olivia?”
She winced. “Not in labor. The doctor’s keeping her overnight just to be sure, but she’s fine.”
He breathed a sigh of relief, so glad Tucker and Olivia’s baby would be okay that for several seconds he couldn’t function. Finally, he ran his hand across the back of his neck and forced his muscles and brain to relax. “That’s good.”
She looked around. “It’s so quiet here.”
“That’s normal in the children’s ICU.”
He expected a question or two. She’d earned the right to ask them. He felt her curiosity like a living, breathing thing. Still, she said nothing.
His respect for her grew. He’d told her he didn’t want her to know his past, his pain, because he didn’t want her to treat him any differently—or, worse, to pity him. And if the casual way she behaved around him was anything to go by, she hadn’t looked him up on the internet and hadn’t asked his friends for information.
It boggled his mind that she hadn’t investigated him. If the tables were turned, he would have been driven crazy until he gave in to his curiosity, but he would have given in. She’d been a rock. She was probably the most trustworthy person on the planet.
“Good evening, Mr. Langley.” Regina walked up to them, giving Eloise a quick once-over. “And who is this?”
He looked from Regina to Eloise, who met his gaze with as much curiosity about how he’d answer as Regina had.
Their gazes locked. She’d gone to all his parties with him, always kept up the charade and always looked pretty for him, even though it probably meant working like a Christmas elf to get that party’s dress altered. He’d refused to tell her his secrets and she’d accepted it.
He couldn’t think of her as nothing but a fake date anymore. He might not be her real boyfriend, but she was more than a partner in a charade.
He caught her hand and squeezed it. “She’s a friend.”
Eloise smiled.
Regina said, “Well, it’s quiet up here tonight. Stay as long as you like.”
It didn’t seem right to stand with Eloise at the window to the room where his son had died. He didn’t want her to see his grief. Plus, with Olivia fine and the baby out of danger, there was no reason to stay.
“Actually, we were just on our way out.”
“Good night then.”
“Good night, Regina.” He directed Eloise to the elevator. “I sent Norman home. We’re going to have to get a taxi.”
“A taxi! Do you know how expensive taxis are?”
He laughed, then realized that’s exactly what she’d intended for him to do. But the sights and the sounds of the hospital kept him grounded in reality, and he suddenly felt guilty for those three seconds of happiness.
No matter how much Eloise lifted his spirits, in his heart he knew he didn’t deserve to be whole.
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