“The moon,” I whispered, my belly fluttering.
It’d been a while since we’d talked about trying, and even longer since I’d tracked my cycle. We’d tried for months right around Ava’s first birthday, and after months of disappointment, we were too stressed, too dejected after every month of my period coming, so we stopped. Not having sex, of course. But I stopped the tracking and the temperature taking, and the anxiety melted away. We’d try again when the time felt right, and that time felt like now.
“You want the moon, baby?” he asked.
“I…I do, Jeremy. I want the moon with you.”
He withdrew from me at a painstakingly slow pace that had me whimpering when he circled his hips, the friction electrifying my clit. He rose from the bed and grabbed the bed wedge before lifting my hips to place it underneath me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, breathless.
Jeremy was silent as he took hold of my ankles, set them on his shoulders, and repositioned himself between my legs. The tip of his cock nudged against my entrance. As he pushed in slowly, he locked eyes with me, his expression a mixture of both lust and love.
“I’m giving my girl what she wants,” he said.
Six weeks later, we found out he’d succeeded. Jeremy had given me another moon.
I WAS ON TOP of the world.
On top of the fucking world.
I’d just sold my first million-dollar home and gotten a killer bonus, and Sierra was ten weeks pregnant. We hadn’t told anyone yet. Just like with Ava, we planned on waiting until she was out of the first trimester. I was dying, though, keeping it from her family and mine. Keeping it from Ava. I’d already ordered a big sister T-shirt she could sport, and I couldn’t wait to put it on her and see how long it took our families to notice it.
Two more weeks. They were going to be the longest two weeks ever.
Turned out, two weeks didn’t matter.
I was on way home from work when my phone rang. Knowing that Ava was with the Sullivans for the night, I’d begun planning out our celebration dinner, so I hurriedly answered Sierra’s call, anxious to tell her the news.
“Hey, baby. Before you say a word, I’ve gotta tell you something.”
“Jeremy.” Her hushed, pained whisper sent ice through my veins. Something was wrong.
“Baby?” I asked.
The sound of her cries shot darts straight to my heart, and I hit the gas, now anxious to get home for a different reason.
“Something’s wrong, Jeremy,” she said, sounding weak. “I…”
Just as I was turning down our street, I heard a crash and then silence.
“Sierra?”
Nothing. Panic set in, and once I’d pulled into our driveway, I threw the truck in park, rushed out, not even bothering to shut the door, and ran into my house like a madman, shouting her name.
My heart threatened to stop beating as soon as I found her. She was lying on the kitchen floor, passed out cold. Her face was blanched, sallow, but the blood was what stopped me in my tracks. The red stain on her pale-pink yoga pants was growing by the second.
After calling the emergency squad, I held Sierra’s limp body in my arms for what seemed like hours. When the paramedics finally came, it took everything in me to release her. No one even questioned me when I hopped in the ambulance with her.
There she was, beautiful and ashen, lying on a stretcher, unconscious.
I was on the brink of losing it.
The words miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy were thrown out as the paramedics hooked her up to tubes and started checking her out. They asked me questions—routine, I guessed, and ones I wasn’t able to answer. I racked my brain and mentally chastised myself for not having paid more attention to Sierra before I’d left for work. I had been too focused on going over the contract for my client, and I couldn’t remember a thing.
Had she complained of cramps?
Had she experienced any spotting?
Were there any symptoms?
I didn’t even know what symptoms they were talking about. When it was clear I had no answers for them, they turned their attention back to my wife. All I could do was watch, worry, and pray.
As soon as we got to the hospital, she was whisked away from me. I was left in the waiting room, sitting there in a daze, unsure of what had just happened. I spent the next ten minutes numb and filling out paperwork. I had a quick thought of calling her parents, Lexi, or, hell, my own parents, but I didn’t want that. I didn’t think Sierra would want that, either, especially if it turned out that everything was okay. Her parents had Ava, and the last thing I wanted was for them to worry or freak my girl out. So, instead of calling anyone, I stared at the television screen, not actually seeing what was playing before me.
The only image in my mind was Sierra lying on the floor, the blood on her pants.
Miscarriage.
Ectopic pregnancy.
I knew what the first was, but I had no idea what the latter was, and there was no way in hell I was going to play Google Doctor and try to figure it out for myself.
Seconds turned to minutes, which turned into hours. At least, that’s how it felt. When my name was finally called, I took a glance at the clock. We’d only been there for an hour and twenty-seven minutes. That had to be a good sign, right?
As I approached the doctor, I felt like I was walking towards my doom, yet I wanted to sprint to him, order he take me to my wife, and run through the halls until I got to her.
“Mr. Banks?” he presumed, and I nodded.
My heart was beating at a frantic pace as I waited for him to give me the news. Any news.
“I’m Dr. Vaughn,” he said—as if I gave a shit who he was. “Your wife is awake, and she’s resting comfortably in her room.”
Relief rushed through me, and my shoulders sagged from the weight that’d been lifted. But that relief was ripped away by his next words.
“There’s no easy way to say this, Mr. Banks. Your wife… The bleeding.” He paused. “She was suffering from a miscarriage, and her body couldn’t handle it. Due to the amount of blood and the situation she was in, we felt it best to go ahead and perform an emergency dilation and curettage procedure.”
I stared at him as if he were speaking gibberish. “Dilation and curettage?” I asked.
“It’s often referred to as a D&C. In simple terms, we cut her cervix open and removed the contents of the uterus. The body can naturally expel them over the course of a few weeks, but we felt this was the best route to go.”
I couldn’t even process what he was telling me. I didn’t want to process it. All I wanted was my wife.
“Can I see her?” I asked.
He nodded, and I followed as he led the way to Sierra. He held the door to her room open, and I saw her lying in the bad, pale and so small. She was curled on her side, into a ball, and it took everything in me not to rush to her side, climb on the bed, and hold her close.
I glanced at the doctor. “A minute?”
He nodded again. “I’ll be back in a while to answer any questions you may have.”
When the door shut, it was just me and Sierra, and for the first time in eighteen years, I had no idea what to say.
I pulled a chair up to the edge of the bed and sat down. She was facing me, but her expression was blank, as if she were looking right through me. My hand reached out and took hers, and she finally moved her eyes to meet mine. And then she said two words that sent the tears in my eyes streaming down my cheeks.
“I’m sorry.”
My fingers clutched hers. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it before placing my other hand on her cheek, cupping it gently. “Sierra,” I whispered, using my thumbs to wipe her falling tears away. “I…”