Chapter 1
The moment they wheeled me into the ER, my husband was smiling on his ex-wife’s Facebook Live while her daughter called him Daddy.
Eight-year-old Maisie sat behind a birthday cake. Owen stood over her with both hands on her shoulders while Beth panned her phone across the crowded living room before settling the camera on the three of them.
Comments raced up the screen.
What a beautiful family.
Maisie finally has a good dad.
You deserve this, Beth.
Owen didn’t correct anyone.
Thirty minutes earlier, he had told me he was only dropping off a gift. Twenty minutes, tops.
Maisie wasn’t his child. She had been born years after he and Beth divorced.
For the past year, Owen had occasionally fixed things at Beth’s apartment or picked Maisie up from school.
Owen liked being useful.
At the station, in our neighborhood, anywhere someone needed rescuing, he became calmer and more certain of himself. I had once admired that about him.
I had never objected because he always gave me the same explanation.
“A little girl without a father needs adults she can count on.”
I hadn’t known someone she could count on had become Daddy.
Another cramp tore through my abdomen. I gripped the arms of the wheelchair as the nurse pushed me down the hall.
Tessa followed with my coat over one arm and my phone pressed to her ear.
“Voicemail again,” she said.
That made seven calls.
Four from me. Two from the triage nurse. The last from Tessa, who had found me sitting on my bathroom floor with blood soaking through my sweatpants.
I was eleven weeks pregnant.
It had taken us three years, two rounds of IVF, and enough money to pay down a large part of our mortgage.
Owen knew my doctor’s instructions: heavy bleeding during the first trimester meant going straight to the hospital.
My first text had been clear.
I’m bleeding. Tessa is taking me to St. Anne’s. Call me now.
A nurse had typed the second one for me.
They can’t find the heartbeat. Please come to the ER immediately.
Both messages showed as read.
On the livestream, Beth carried the cake toward Maisie. The candles were already lit, but Maisie didn’t make a wish. She tipped her head back to look at Owen.
“Will you come to all my birthdays, Daddy?”
Owen bent down and wrapped his arms around her. Someone in the room started clapping.
“Every one,” he said. “I promise.”
My phone vibrated.
Owen had finally answered.
I can’t leave right now. Maisie is about to blow out her candles. You’re already at the hospital with doctors.
I stared at the message while the triage nurse asked for my blood type. Tessa answered for me.
When the nurse asked for my date of birth, I opened my mouth and couldn’t remember it.
Another message appeared.
Please don’t make me walk out on her birthday. She’s eight, Elena. She remembers every person who leaves.
The ultrasound room door closed behind me.
The technician helped me onto the exam table and turned the monitor away. She asked when I’d had my last scan.
“Six days ago,” I said. “There was a heartbeat.”
She nodded without looking at me.
I watched her face as she moved the wand.
She measured once, enlarged the image, and measured again. She didn’t turn the screen toward me.
She didn’t raise the volume so I could hear the rapid rhythm that had filled the room at my last appointment.
“Tessa.”
My sister took my hand.
The technician set the wand aside and handed me a tissue. “I’m going to get the doctor.”
“What did you see?”
“The doctor will talk to you.”
After she left, Owen’s livestream kept playing on my phone. The guests began singing “Happy Birthday.” Maisie closed her eyes and blew out the candles.
Owen stood behind her, smiling more easily than he had when we heard our baby’s heartbeat for the first time.
Beth turned the camera toward him.
“Thank you for teaching her that a real dad shows up.”
Owen wiped frosting from Maisie’s cheek.
He didn’t look at the camera.
He didn’t deny it.
The doctor came in and sat beside the bed. She rested one hand against the edge of the exam table before speaking.
“Elena, I’m so sorry. The ultrasound didn’t detect a heartbeat.”
The applause from the livestream was still coming through my phone.
Then the screen lit up with another message from Owen.
The cake’s done. Do you still need me to come?