By now, the receptionists at Mercy Hospital knew me by name.
“Fiona," one of them smiled. “Exam Room 3 again?"
I nodded. “Still not glowing."
Outside, camera flashes popped.
I kept my head down, hoodie up.
Until a familiar coat draped over me from behind.
Wool. Warm. Cedar-scented.
Andrew.
He didn't speak.
He just walked beside me, one hand casually in his pocket, the other shielding me from the press like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Inside the room, I stared at the ultrasound screen, blurry and shifting. A faint heartbeat echoed through the machine. My throat burned.
That evening, Claire called. “You know he paid off the subcontractor fees, right?"
I froze. “What?"
“The bankruptcy scare. Someone covered the penalty to keep the curtain wall install on schedule.
