Abby's been editing films for a living while swiping left and right on dating apps for the last six years. All she craves is human connection--is it too much to ask in Manhattan?
Just as she's given up all hope, a one-night stand with a stranger re...
Olga's holding her newborn in her arms by midnight. Daniel's sitting beside her on the hospital bed, all smiles, cooing their baby boy. I leave the door open for Olga's mom to enter as I step out of the room. Her family has finally made it from Philadelphia.
The last four hours have been rough, but I wouldn't change it for the world. I'll never forget the begging look Daniel gave me in the waiting area before I stormed into Olga's room.
Holding my best friend's hand as she pushed a life out of her body was...creepy. But hearing the baby's scream and the moment her face changed from a jaw-clenching, red, hot pain to surprise and then pure joy was magical.
Perhaps one day, I can have babies too. Only one...
I make my way to the quiet waiting room. The unit is empty, apart from a couple of patients strolling around the vending machines. I throw myself on a seat and fish my phone out of my bag. The screen lights up with multiple texts. Resting a cheek on my fist, I open the first one.
"Abbs?" A sweet voice calls, and I raise my gaze to the entrance. Nate's worried eyes find me in no time. He's passing the nurse's station, looking much better than when I left him earlier—more put together, sharp, even. "How are they?" he asks, when he finally reaches me.
"Everybody's okay." I grab his hand and shoot him a sleepy smile. "It's a boy—Thomas."
Nate's childish smile beams across his face as he gazes toward the patients' wing. "Can I see them?"
"It's past visiting hours. They're only allowing first-degree relatives," I explain, putting my phone away. When Nate's shoulders fall, I caress his fingers. "You'll have plenty of time to see Daniel's new family. Don't worry."
The innocent glow in his eyes melts and aches my heart at the same time. Nate pulls me up to stand, and before I can take another step, he wraps me in his arms.
I can't believe how cold the unit was until Nate's warmth envelopes me. My skin is ice compared to his touch. I hope his night went eventless, but I don't have it in me to ask and ruin this moment.
Nate kisses the top of my head, then steps away to take me under his wing. I loop my arm around his waist and lead him out of the hospital.
"Keys?" he asks when we near his car.
"Are you sober?"
"Yeah. It's been hours, and I only drank water," he explains. When I raise a skeptical brow, he rolls his eyes. "I'd never put your life at risk, babe. You're tired. Let me take you home."
I can't help but smile as I dip my hand into my bag and hand Nate the keys. Next, I'm watching the flickering streetlights as we drive down Park Avenue. Most of the buildings seem to be dark and asleep. Apart from a group of teens smoking under a green, deli sign, the Avenue is empty.
Nate's reflection against my window catches my eye. His arm is stretched out to distance his body from the wheel. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw is moving as if he's grinding his teeth.
"What is it?" I sigh, tapping the back of my head against the headrest.
Nate's gaze flies to my face, then turns back at the road. "Nothing."
"Is this how we're going to be? I thought we were one of the honest couples, Nate."
He shakes his head and then bites his lips, squinting harder than before. "It's just...the way he kept looking at the empty chair next to me," he says, clenching his fingers around the wheel. "At the rehearsal dinner... Roma—my brother, kept looking at your chair. He was jittery. Jumped up every time the doors opened. Checked his phone a lot... Did he text you?"
"No," I hear my voice say as I pinch my fingertips.
"Would you tell me if he did?"
"Probably not," I say, eyeing his stiff features. All I want is to go back to being us again. When Nate shoots me a glare, I wink at him. He lets out a relieved exhale and finally relaxes his shoulders. "How was the food?" I ask, reaching at the console between us to turn the music on.
"Boring." He loosens his hold around the wheel. "Cake was good. Mango and cream."
"Hmm," I hum, tracing the outlines of my phone in my bag. "Sounds delicious. I had ice chips and a tuna sandwich."
A cheerful song takes over the silence. I sigh again, facing out the window. My phone feels like it's burning under my palm. The heat it radiates prickles my skin. My heart pounds, remembering the moment I tapped my screen to find a text from an unknown number...telling me, "We need to talk."
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