Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2) (21 page)

“Let it go!” I hollered from the bathroom.

“Are you naked?” he asked.

My nightgown dropped to the floor, and I laughed. “Yes!”

“Then, I still hate him!”

“Go to work!” I yelled, giggling. I turned the faucet toward hot and waited.

Life couldn’t get more perfect than this.

The wind hit me like a punch to the face as I exited the cab, making my way into the hospital where my doctor’s office was located. When I’d moved from Southern California, Marcus had made sure I would be in good hands. It wasn’t quite the same as having my uncle, now stepfather, care for me, but Dr. Hough was a close second.

As I stepped through the glass doors, I suddenly felt uneasy. The familiar scent of bleach and chemicals filled my nostrils, reminding me of my childhood spent in similar washed-out hallways and drab rooms.

I nearly turned around, the single piece of toast I’d managed to eat that morning feeling like a lumpy ball in the pit of my stomach.

Why hadn’t I brought someone with me?

Why did I feel like something bad was about to happen?

A nurse walked past me, wheeling a patient in a gurney. An IV was hanging from a pole at the top of the bed, reminding me of the countless surgeries and procedures I’d had over the years. My fingers immediately went to the top of my chest, etching out the scar that I bore from the many hardships I’d endured, the many battles I’d won to get here.

Feeling a bit more confident, I moved swiftly, stepping eagerly toward the elevator that would carry me to the correct floor. I knew every visit to a hospital would bring back memories—good ones and bad ones. Today was just a visit into the dark days, and it was something I needed to move past—quickly.

Nothing is wrong,
I reminded myself.

That is all over now,
I chanted in my head.

Everything is perfect,
I silently screamed.

The elevator dinged, and I nearly jumped. A woman standing next to me held out her hand, urging me to go first. Her warm smile calmed me as I went on my way, down the hall toward the correct suite number. Pushing the door open, I took a deep breath and tried to center myself.

Everything was fine. The air inside was less harsh, giving off a more pleasant aroma, and I felt the muscles in my shoulders relax slightly from just this tiniest adjustment.

Logically, I knew I was still in the hospital, but mentally, it suddenly felt less intimidating. I signed in before relaxing in a comfy chair in the waiting room I’d grown accustomed to, and I pulled out my phone to read, feeling my panic fall away like the leaves on a blustery autumn day.

Soon, I was called back, and after my weight and blood pressure had been checked, the nurse began writing down my other vitals.

“So, what brings you in today, Lailah? We didn’t expect you for another few days,” she said pleasantly as she cradled my wrist to find my pulse.

“I haven’t been feeling all that well for the last two days, and I figured, better safe than sorry, I guess. So, I decided to come in early. I could have gone and seen my primary doctor, but—”

Her hand covered mine. “No need. We’re here when you need us. You know that. Now, tell me what kind of symptoms you’ve been having, and we’ll go from there.”

I went over the bouts of nausea and the weak and tired feeling I’d been having.

“Classes have started back up, and it’s flu season.” She sighed. “I’ll go check with Dr. Hough, but we’ll probably do a few tests to check for a variety of infections.”

I nodded as she finished typing a few things into the laptop before making her exit.

My feet dangled beneath me as I shifted around on the uncomfortable exam table. The sound of paper crinkling beneath me took care of the awkward silence as my erratic breath whooshed in and out of my lungs.

Flu. That’s not terrible. I could deal with that.

A few missed classes. Maybe a week if it’s really bad, and then everything would be back to normal.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a knock. The nurse reappeared with several items in her hands.

“Okay, I managed to catch Dr. Hough in between rooms. He wants me to swab your throat for the flu, and we’re also going to do a few blood tests and a urine test just to cover all our bases. We won’t get back the results from the blood tests for a few days, but everything else, we’ll have immediately.”

“Okay,” I responded.

She grabbed the giant Q-tip-looking thing and had me open wide before swabbing the very back of my throat. I tried not to gag. My eyes watered and burned, as my throat constricted involuntarily.

“Sorry. So sorry,” she apologized, her eyes filled with empathy. She swiftly pulled back and capped the test. “We’ll let that sit for about ten minutes. In the meantime,” she said, handing me a clear container, “you’ve got work to do.”

I rolled my eyes and hopped off the table, giving a slight smile. She escorted me to the restroom and told me where to put everything when I finished.

After a few minutes and several silent curses, I was done and waiting back in the exam room. I stared at the pictures on the walls, the cartoon-like sketches of hearts and valves, as my own hand reached up to feel the rhythmic beat in my chest. The buzz from the lights became almost hypnotic as I sat there, picking at the leftover nail polish I’d worn for New Year’s, a sparkly gold color I’d thought looked festive and bright. A chip fell to the floor, a stark contrast to the dull gray linoleum tile below my feet.

Hours, days even, seemed to float by as I waited. I’d been in this exam room countless times, but it had never seemed this endless. The fear I’d felt when I’d walked through those double doors of the hospital resurfaced. I had this undeniable worry that something was about to happen, something I couldn’t control.

The knock on the door caused all the breath in my lungs to falter, and I breathed in, gulping for air, as Dr. Hough entered.

“Hi, Lailah,” he greeted, holding out his arms for our usual greeting.

I returned the gesture, hugging him wordlessly, as I tried to regain my composure.

“How are you?” I asked, my voice still slightly hoarse from my startle. “Did you have a nice holiday season?”

“Oh, yes, very nice,” he answered rather quickly, taking a seat across from me. His eyes looked heavy, filled with emotions I had yet to sort out.

“You don’t have the flu,” he simply said, “but we did find something else rather interesting.”

Oh God, here it comes—I’m dying.

“You’re pregnant.”

“That’s impossible,” the words flew out of my mouth before I even had a chance to realize I’d spoken.

He leaned forward, folding his hands together, as his gaze became intense. “Well, no, actually, since you’re sexually active. Surprising maybe, but impossible? No.”

My head began shaking from side to side as I rejected his news.

“But how?” I asked.

“Well, the how I can’t really answer, which is why I’m having Irene take you over to obstetrics. They’re going to give you an exam and an ultrasound to be sure.”

“Irene?”

“My nurse,” he answered kindly.

“Right.”

I sat there in silence, looking down at my wedding ring, a ring I’d worn for barely a month.

“I’m pregnant?” I asked before adding, “Can I survive a pregnancy?”

“I guess the question is, do you want to find out?”

And there it was—my life-altering moment.

I’D BEEN IN meetings all morning, thanks to Roman.

Every free moment I had, I found myself glancing down to check my phone, but Lailah hadn’t sent me anything—not a text, email, or even a voice mail—to let me know how the doctor’s appointment had gone.

Is she still there?

Finally, I managed to step out, canceling my lunch meeting, and I left for the day. I was useless to everyone in that office like this. I couldn’t think straight, and I definitely wasn’t getting anything done.

Not knowing what had transpired with Lailah was driving me crazy.

I tried her cell again on my way down to the lobby, but she didn’t pick up.

Damn it all to hell.

Flagging down a cab, I made it back to our apartment rather quickly, deciding to check there first. Showing up at the hospital would be my next step. The elevator was like a slow crawl, moving up the building at a snail’s pace, as I tapped my foot restlessly, waiting for our floor to ding. The doors finally opened, and I sped down the hallway, pulling out my keys, ready to unlock the door.

As soon as I bolted into the apartment, I saw her sitting on the sofa, her face turned toward the giant window that overlooked the city.

The blank look on her face stopped me cold.

“Lailah,” I called out.

She turned to me with a sudden mixture of emotions moving across her features, kicking my feet into gear.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I knelt by her side, touching her everywhere.

Her shoulders, her heart, were solid and strong. She felt healthy and safe, but her demeanor was saying the exact opposite. It gave me chills.

“I went to the doctor,” she started.

“I know. I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

“I don’t have the flu.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling a chair toward her and taking a seat. I gripped her hands in mine, willing her to say the words, to tell me what was going on.

Her eyes met mine, and she smiled. “I’m pregnant, Jude.”

That finely tuned tightrope I’d been walking since the day she came back into my life—the one I’d kept taking slow, steady steps on each and every time her doctor had told us she was doing great and her heart was healthy—suddenly snapped beneath me.

I felt my stomach hit the floor. My ears rang violently in my head as if my mind was rejecting the very idea because it couldn’t possibly be true.

“No,” I replied softly. “No,” I said again, shaking my head.

“I saw the baby.”

From under a blanket, she produced a tiny black-and-white photo. Her name was typed neatly at the top with today’s date. Positioned in the center was a tiny black dot. It didn’t look like much, but I remembered my secretary had shown me one of her daughter’s first ultrasounds, and it looked similar, maybe slightly bigger.

I took the photo as she began to speak, my ears . . . my heart, every damn part of me rejecting everything she was saying.

“Based on the size and the fact that my period is only a few days late, the doctor said we probably conceived around our wedding night. Isn’t that crazy?” A laugh laced with tears fell from her lips as she gazed down at the tiny picture in her hands.

“We did everything right.” Tears stung my eyes as I looked up at her—my beautiful, gorgeous wife.

“That’s what I said, but when the doctor examined me, I guess my IUD had shifted. She said it basically rendered it useless. She had to remove it today so everything will be touch and go for the next few weeks as far as the pregnancy is concerned.”

Her expression turned almost mournful—an emotion I couldn’t wrap my head around quite just yet. So many emotions, I nearly felt numb.

“But the condoms?” I pressed on as if arguing the matter could overrule the picture I held in my hand.

A late-night
Friends
marathon suddenly flashed through my memory. Lailah and I had been curled up on the couch, and we’d both just finished laughing hysterically as a frantic Ross called the customer-service line on the back of a condom box, outraged that Rachel was pregnant. I’d told her how improbable that was. It turned out, Ross and I weren’t that different.

“Dr. Riley—the OB-GYN said it’s rare, but these things do happen.” That smile returned again as she glanced down at the picture once more.

“They don’t, not to you,” I said adamantly. “When do we go back to see Dr. Hough?”

“I don’t know. I told him I needed to talk to you, and then we’d schedule something.”

“I want to see him today.” I jumped up, grabbing the phone from my pocket.

“Jude, would you just calm down?” Her hands touched me as she tentatively stood.

“Calm down, Lailah? You’re pregnant. This might be a joyous occasion for Bill and Harriet down the hall. But for you?”