EMMA'S POVThe two-week wait is torture.I go back to work at the hotel, pretending everything is normal while obsessively analyzing every twinge and symptom. Is that nausea morning sickness or leftover hormones? Are my breasts tender because I'm pregnant or because I want to be pregnant?Dominic texts daily. "How are you feeling?" "Any symptoms?" "Are you resting enough?"I keep my answers short, afraid of reading too much into his concern.Eight days after the transfer, I'm plating desserts when the room tilts sideways. I grab the counter, but my knees buckle.I wake up on the kitchen floor with Chef Marco hovering over me."Emma! Can you hear me?""I'm fine," I mumble, trying to sit up."You passed out. I'm calling an ambulance.""No! I mean, I don't need an ambulance. Just low blood sugar."But Marco's already on the phone.An hour later, I'm in the ER when Dominic storms through the curtain, his face pale."What happened? Are you okay? Is the baby—"He stops, realizing we're not
Baca selengkapnya