Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(49)

My eyelids fell in shame. “You’re right.”

“But none of that matters now,” she urged, grasping my face in her palms.

Our eyes met, and in her pale blue irises, I saw everything I felt in that moment, everything I’d been feeling since the moment I walked in that door and the small little planet we called life detonated before my eyes.

She was just as scared as I was, which meant there was still hope.

“Come on. Let’s go,” she said softly as the elevator doors opened into the lobby.

I let her lead me toward the entrance.

The doorman greeted, “Good morning,” to us.

Snow fell lightly on the streets, covering everything in a silvery white glow. It was as if the city had been born anew overnight while I felt drained and dizzy.

I gladly took the doorman’s offer to hail us a cab. Wrapping an arm around Lailah, I stood with her under the awning for shelter.

In less than a minute, we were on our way toward the hospital. No words were spoken between us, but our hands clung to each other like an unbreakable chain holding us together, even when it felt like we were oceans apart.

We made our way into the hospital, a united front, moving swiftly from the entrance to the elevators to the floor that held the office suites. Lailah squeezed my hand, a tear trickling down her cheek.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise,” I said.

She nodded her head, remaining silent, as her gaze stared straight ahead toward the doors as they peeled open. I let her lead once again as we entered the office, and then I held back, allowing her to sign in. It was early, and we were the first to arrive. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, and laughter rang in the distance as coworkers caught up on the latest gossip and discussed TV shows and family. My knee nervously bobbed up and down as I listened to them casually enjoying themselves while I was out here, feeling like my head would implode at any God-given moment.

It was the same exact way I’d felt in the days after I walked away from Lailah. Life had moved on, and people had existed around me, yet I had been left silently screaming in a virtual vacuum of my own demise.

I looked down at Lailah. Would that be my life again?

“Lailah Cavanaugh?” the nurse called out.

It was kind of unnecessary, seeing as we were the sole occupants in the waiting room, but it was nice to hear her new name despite the circumstances surrounding it.

We followed the nurse, someone I recognized from prior visits, down the hall and toward the left rather than the right, which led to the exam rooms.

“Dr. Hough thought it might be more comfortable to meet in his office this morning,” she offered as an explanation as we stopped.

There, standing behind a large mahogany desk, framed by diplomas and certificates, was the man of the hour, checking charts and signing his name to various letters and statements.

“Doctor, Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh are here to see you,” the young nurse announced.

“Ah, good. Thank you, Stephanie,” he replied, stepping away from the desk to offer me his hand.

I politely took it, giving it a firm shake, even though I felt as weak and thin as the sheets of paper on his desk in front of us. It was then I noticed the woman sitting near him.

For Lailah, he opened his arms and took her in a sweet embrace. They held each other as friends rather than doctor and patient. I could see the hurt and defeat in his eyes. It was as if he wished there were some way he could erase the horrible circumstances of this otherwise joyous news from our lives.

“Please sit,” he offered, motioning to the two plush chairs by his desk.

We each took a seat, and I reached out for Lailah’s hand. I needed her as much as I hoped she needed me in this moment.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Dr. Riley here to offer assistance as well. I know you probably have a ton of questions, so why don’t we just start there?” he said, reclining in his chair, trying to give a laid-back, approachable appearance.

“I guess we want to know everything,” Lailah said, looking from one doctor to the other. “Our options, the risks, for both me and—”

“The baby,” he finished.

She nodded.

“Well, first of all, let me say, the idea of a transplant patient, even one who’s undergone something as risky as a heart transplant, can become mothers. It’s not totally out of the question these days.”

Lailah’s hand squeezed mine.

“However,” Dr. Riley interjected, “we usually advise patients to do in-depth preconception counseling where we—meaning an OB-GYN and the patient—decide if the patient is healthy enough to tolerate such an ordeal. Pregnancy is hard enough for a completely healthy woman. Add in the complications you face, and . . . well, things become risky quickly.”

I took a deep breath, forcing air into my lungs.

Dr. Hough continued, “Unfortunately, we didn’t get to do any planning with you, Lailah. The universe had other intentions, and despite all your best efforts, you are pregnant. Now, we just have to figure out what to do from here.”

“If we had come to you and asked about becoming parents, would you have given us your blessing?” I asked.

He pursed his lips and sighed loudly. “No, I wouldn’t have. It’s only been two years since your surgery, Lailah, and with your history . . . well, this is why we had the IUD in the first place.”