Page 44 of Pregnancy Clause in Their Paper Marriage
‘What...?’ Lana’s voice was paper-thin, and she had to lick her lips to moisten them, except her mouth was so dry she couldn’t.
‘Here, honey,’ the woman said kindly. ‘Let me give you a sip of water.’
She helped Lana lift her head to sip from a straw, the cool liquid wetting her lips and sliding down her throat, providing immediate relief.
Lana sagged against the pillows with a groan. ‘Where...where is my baby?’ she asked in a croak.
‘Your baby is fine,’ the nurse assured her. ‘She’s in the neonatal unit, since she was born so early. She’s tiny, just two pounds seven ounces, but she’s a fighter. The doctors feel she’s got a very good chance indeed.’
Lana closed her eyes in both relief and sorrow.Two pounds...!The tiniest scrap of humanity, and yet so very precious. A little girl. A tiny, tiny, precious girl.
‘When you’re a little stronger, someone can take you to see her,’ the woman promised. ‘But you’ve been in a bad way, I’m afraid, for over a week. You lost a lot of blood, and for a while...’ She shook her head and Lana felt fear clutch at her.
Had she been that close to death? Christos would have been out of his mind with worry and fear...
Or maybe he hadn’t been. Maybe he’d just walked away.
She didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t, and yet the reality was stark, staring at her straight in her face. He wasn’t here.
‘Have you...?’ Her voice rasped painfully in her throat, and she swallowed, determined to get the words out. ‘Have you seen my husband?’
The nurse gave her a confused look, her forehead furrowed. ‘Your husband? What does he look like?’
‘Tall...dark hair...hazel eyes...’
The most handsome man in the world.
The nurse shook her head, sympathy now softening her features. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve seen him. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t been here, though. I’m only on shift a couple of times a week...’
And she hadn’t seen him about at all? No dutiful husband sitting by the bedside, then. Tears silently slipped down Lana’s cheeks as she realised Christos must not have been there at all. Had he left her, left their daughter, just as he had his own family? And what did that say abouther? Her father had left her when she’d been only a baby, her mother had resented her for her whole life, the one man she’d convinced herself she’d loved before had walked away without a single care.
Why should Christos be any different? Why should she? They’d both just been conforming to their true selves. Lana would always be left...and Christos would always do the leaving.
‘I’m sure he’s here somewhere,’ the nurse told her, patting her hand. ‘It’s a busy hospital...maybe he’s with your daughter...’ She trailed off, rather feebly, Lana thought, because if she’d been so ill for so long, surely Christos would have been there at some point. The nurse would have recognised the description, at least. ‘I’ll ask around,’ the nurse said, and Lana let out a choked sound, something between a laugh and a sob.
‘Don’t bother,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to see him.’ And then she closed her eyes, trying to shut out the grim truth that she couldn’t avoid; it screamed in her ears, seeped into every pore. Christos had left her.
‘She doesn’t want to see you.’
The nurse’s expression was implacable as Christos stared at her in incredulity that quickly morphed into fury—and fear.
‘What? What on earth do you mean?’
‘I’m sorry, sir. Your wife made it very clear she didn’t want to see you.’
Frustration burned in his chest, along with a far deeper hurt. Lana didn’t want to see him?
Yet was he even that surprised?
He’d failed her, back at the ballroom. He’d failed her so badly. When he’d seen her lying there, crumpled on the ground, everything in him had shut down. He’d been incapable of thought, of movement, frozen in place by the memories that had tormented him for so many years—his mother in her bed, calling out to him. Thalia’s broken voice on the phone. The way he’d failed before, and the utter terror that it was happening again.
He would let Lana down.
He already had. And yet he still couldn’t make himself move.
He’d stood there, completely frozen with terror, with memory, while she’d been bundled onto a stretcher, taken away. Then Sophia had touched his shoulder, squeezed.
‘Christos, it’s going to be okay. We’ll go to the hospital.’