Unlucky in Love

“I’m disgusting looking,” I complained, looking at my abdomen in the bathroom mirror. I was talking to Emma, seeing as how Dominic was back in school full-time since I was off bed-rest. Max was due any time now, and I wasn’t the least bit ready for him.

Sure we had his room together and had all the baby essentials, but I wasn’t ready to change our family dynamic yet. We were going to be a family of four now—I had to split my time between Emma and the new baby.

Emma started brushing her hair with my comb, copying what I was doing with my own hair. She made it look all messy, and then pushed it out of her face. I took the comb and smoothed her fine hair back into place.

“No!” she snapped, trying to snatch the comb back from me. I sighed, letting her continue on doing what she was doing.

I guess it was a good thing I wasn’t having two more.

* * *

“What’re you talking about?” I exclaimed.

“I have to, Em. The lead just up and quit so they need someone to handle Paris right now.”

I gaped at him. “So they’re making the guy whose wife is eight months pregnant go and handle it?” He didn’t say anything as he continued to pack his lone suitcase. “What if you’re not back in time? I don’t think I’ll be able to go through with this by myself. And besides, this is your son, Dominic.”

“Em,” he started holding my face in his hands. “I’m going to be back in time. I’ll be gone for two weeks at the most—if I could take you with me, I would. But I can’t.”

“Why? There’s no law saying I can’t fly in the eighth month.”

Dominic pecked my lips once and let me go. “If you can handle going through airports with Emma, Emma crying on the plane, getting nauseous, being uncomfortable, possibly being rejected from getting on the plane in the first place, and being without me during the day, and if you’re doctor says it’s okay, then I’d love for you to come with me.”

I bit my lip before I answered. I couldn’t do anything on a whim anymore, and I sighed, realizing he was right.

“Emma doesn’t have a passport yet,” I murmured, defeated. “Just be back before I go into labor. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I will,” he promised, kissing me again.

…Dominic’s POV…

I had been here for three weeks now, and there wasn’t any hope of me leaving. As soon as one thing got fixed, something else got fucked up. I was tempted to just move on, go back to Oregon and forget my dad and his fucking company.

But I couldn’t.

This was the plan I was told from the beginning, before Ember. I would work here; live here. And for some reason, I wished it was still that way.

As I was heading back to the hotel, Ember called. I hissed in my breath, remembering too late that I had screened her five plus calls earlier today. I was the absolute shittiest husband.

“Em,” I started.

“Hey,” she replied, not sounding mad or hysterical whatsoever. “I just had my last check-up.”

“And?” I asked, going into the lobby and heading straight for the elevator. “Is he okay?”

Ember cleared her throat. “Yeah, um, I’m at three centimeters, so really any time now. I just thought I’d let you know. I doubt you’ll get here in time, so I already have a sitter set up to watch Emma while I’m in the hospital.”

I scoffed. “What makes you think I can’t get there in time?” I asked condescendingly. I went to my door and swiped the card to unlock it. Inside, I dropped my bag and jacket and fell onto the couch.

“Because every flight on every airline is booked until Friday, and you haven’t booked a ticket. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be going into labor any time now. Get home when you can.”

“Em, babe, if I could get home right now, I would. But I can’t. I’m not done here and I—”

“And you can’t leave because you want to be there, for both work and for yourself.” She said, as if reading my mind. I didn’t even try to deny it. “I’m not going to force you to do anything. If you feel you need to stay there, then stay.”

I rubbed my eyes tiredly. “I want you to be here!” I exclaimed. “I want to stay here, and I want you to come.”

“I can’t, Dominic, you know that. That’s really selfish of you to ask that.”

I scoffed. “It’s not selfish—and I’m not saying right away. I just don’t want to come back—you’re going to have to come here.”

“Goodbye, Dominic.” she said, hanging up.

I let my phone fall and closed my eyes. I couldn’t do this anymore—it felt like a routine. Ember was right, but I just didn’t care. I couldn’t care any less. There was something wrong with that, wasn’t there?

* * *

A 503 number called when I was leaving work the next night, and I answered it, expecting Ember to be yelling at me from a different phone.

“Hello?” I answered, sounding bored.

“Can I speak to Dominic Nightingale, please?”

I sat up straight in my car’s seat, alert. “Speaking,”

“We were told to notify you should anything go wrong with your wife’s delivery…” she started, and panic swept over me in a rush. “The baby is fine, but your wife had very significant postpartum hemorrhaging.”

“Is she okay?” I demanded, practically cutting the nurse off.

The nurse paused, debating whether or not to go further. “We’re not sure. We’re waiting for a shipment of AB Negative to come in to give her a transfusion. The doctor is trying to stop the bleeding.”

“Is she conscious?” I asked, my voice sounding hollow.

“I’m afraid not.”

I hit the red “End Call” symbol on my iPhone and rested my head on the steering wheel for a moment before pulling out of the parking garage and heading straight to the airport.