To Have It All(34)

Handing me a script for pain meds, the doctor patted my shoulder. “These meds should keep you comfortable, but they will make you sleepy, so you’ll definitely need help with your child. Make sure you call and set up a follow-up appointment.”

“Thanks,” I muttered as I shoved the papers in my purse. I didn’t mean to be rude to him, but I was in pain on top of choking with worry about how I would manage taking care of Pim. Miss Patty could watch her during the day, but I’d still need help getting her ready in the mornings and figure out a way to get her there. Not to mention picking her up in the evenings and getting through the nightly routine.

Handing me my crutches, I held them as best I could as the kind nurse navigated my wheelchair gingerly, careful not to bump my extended leg on anything, through the bustling hospital halls onto the elevator. As we reached the first floor, she asked, “Will someone be picking you up?”

Tears stung my eyes as I searched for an answer. There was no one to pick me up. The only two people I could count on to help me with Pim were halfway across the world. There was no way I could call them and ruin their trip; I’d hate myself for it. Who else could I call?

“Are you okay, hon?” the nurse asked.

Clearing my throat, I rasped, “Yes. Sorry. It’s been a long day. I’ll be taking a cab home.”

She pushed me into the lobby, and we’d almost reached the doors when I saw them—Max and Helen. What in the hell were they doing here?

“Can you stop for a moment please?” I mumbled to the nurse, raising my hand slightly to make sure I got her attention.

As the wheelchair came to an abrupt stop, I stared as Max stood with his arms crossed, staring down at Helen while she spoke. Something was so different about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Even the way he stood seemed different . . . manlier if that even made sense. As I watched them, occasionally Helen wiped at her eyes with a balled-up tissue. Why was she crying? It wasn’t any of my business, but I wondered if everything was okay with her baby. Whatever suspicions I had about her, I couldn’t help my heart from squeezing at the thought that something might be wrong with her unborn child. It also didn’t keep my curiosity from rearing its head. If the baby wasn’t Max’s, why would he be here with her? Unless he’d lied, which was the most logical answer.

Just as that thought flitted through my mind and my hackles began to rise, Helen darted her gaze right at me, almost as if she’d felt me watching her.

“Shit,” I muttered to myself.

In under five seconds, she’d pointed me out to Max who had to do a double-take.

“We can go now,” I told the nurse. She pushed me gently, but we’d only made it a few feet before Max and Helen reached us.

“What happened?” Max inquired as he stood in front of my wheelchair, forcing us to stop. Dressed down again in a simple gray T-shirt and jeans, he once again looked completely unlike himself.

“I sprained my ankle,” I answered dryly, pushing some of my loose bangs behind my ear. “Had a little accident this morning.”

“Oh my goodness,” Helen gasped, genuine concern strewn across her features. “Is Pimberly okay?”

Nodding my head, I realized they must think I meant a car accident. “Yes,” I assured her. “She’s fine. I fell at the sitter’s house. I was holding her, but she wasn’t hurt . . . just a little scared.”

Turning from me, Max looked around. “Who has her now?”

“She’s still with the sitter.”

“Who’s picking you up?”

“No one,” I admitted irritably. Having to tell Max and Helen I had no one to help me was humiliating. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have to get a taxi and pick up Pimberly. Nice seeing you again, Helen,” I mumbled without sincerity.

Max didn’t move out of the way. He and Helen gave each other a look like they were having a conversation with their eyes. “You can’t take care of her by yourself with your ankle like that,” Max noted.

“I’ll figure it out, Max,” I snapped. “Now please move.”

“Let me help,” Max demanded, his tone gentle but firm.

We stared at one another, neither of us saying a word. The bustling of people around us didn’t seem to deter him. “I’ve managed without your help for a long time, Max. I don’t need it now,” I lashed out. Whipping the crutches around, I tried to stand, but the wheelchair had my leg sticking out. My face heated with embarrassment as I grunted awkwardly trying to get up.

“Waverly,” Helen said my name softly as she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “Please let us help you. I’ve been a single mother before. I know what it’s like to be hurt or sick and need help. It’s okay to need help, ya know?”

My stare dropped to my leg, my chest seizing as a memory barreled through my mind.

After Max left the apartment the evening I’d told him I was pregnant, I’d paced the floors all night, praying he’d calm down and regret his reaction. I’d hoped with some time he’d realize what a gift it was, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he texted me the next morning, just as he’d said he would. He’d done it. He’d made an appointment for me to have an abortion.

The word devastated didn’t even come close to how I felt.