I was eight centimeters dilated when my husband left me in the car to save his pregnant ex-fiancée.

My water had already broken as Damian’s phone rang.

"Damian, thank God. It's Arabella. She's bleeding. She's at Saint Claire's clinic."

Saint Claire's. Across town.

Damian's voice changed, "Is she with a doctor?"

"Yes, but she's alone. She keeps asking for you."

My contraction sharpened. I clenched my teeth. "Keep driving."

Damian glanced at me. His face changed.

Then he took the next exit. The clinic sign appeared. Saint Claire's Women's Center.

My heart stopped and entire body went cold.

"No, Damian." My voice cracked.

He parked and turned back to me."Vivienne. I'll be ten minutes."

I grabbed his arm tightly and pleaded. "I am in labor. Our daughter is coming."

My throat hurt, "If you get out of this car, don't come to the hospital."

He stared at me. Then my stomach. Then the clinic.

Silence.

Then he opened the car door, got out.

Something inside me went completely still.

I watched my husband run toward another pregnant woman. Behind the glass, he didn't look back.

I sat there with my hand over our daughter. A tear slipped down my cheek.

For seven years, I had believed if the world ever split in half, Damian would stand on my side of the crack.

Apparently I'd been wrong.

————————

VIVIENNE

The first contraction woke me at 4:17 in the morning.

I stared at the ceiling.

Waited.

Nothing.

I exhaled and closed my eyes again.

Braxton Hicks.

Wonderful.

My body had apparently decided actual labor wasn't dramatic enough. It also needed rehearsals.

Damian shifted beside me.

His arm tightened around my waist.

"You okay?"

I almost laughed.

The man could sleep through thunderstorms but apparently not through one change in my breathing.

"I'm fine."

His eyes opened immediately.

"That answer should be illegal."

"It's Braxton Hicks."

He pushed himself up.

"How long?"

"Damian."

"How long?"

"One contraction."

He reached for his phone.

I grabbed his wrist.

"No."

"I'm timing them."

"There is nothing to time."

"You're thirty-eight weeks."

"I know how pregnant I am."

"Debatable."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Then his eyes dropped to my stomach.

The fear was there.

Always.

He hid it better now, but I knew him.

Two miscarriages did that to people.

They made joy cautious.

Even now.

Even this close.

Damian placed his palm over my stomach.

Evelyn moved beneath it.

His shoulders loosened slightly.

"She's awake."

"She's always awake when I want to sleep."

His mouth curved.

"Definitely yours."

"Excuse me?"

"Temper."

I hit him with the pillow.

He caught it.

Of course he did.

"Go back to sleep," I muttered.

He bussed my shoulder.

"You first."

I rolled onto my side.

And for the next thirty minutes, nothing happened.

Then another contraction came.

Stronger.

I gripped the sheet.

Damian sat up.

"I saw that."

"Saw what?"

"That."

"Very specific."

"Vivienne."

I breathed out slowly.

"It hurt."

He was already out of bed.

"Hospital."

"No."

"Hospital."

"Damian, I am not showing up at five in the morning because I had two contractions."

"Three."

I looked at him.

His phone was in his hand.

"You timed them?"

"Obviously."

"You're insane."

"Get dressed."

"Bossy."

"Pregnant."

"Still not a medical diagnosis for obedience."

He didn't smile.

That made me sit up.

"Hey."

His eyes met mine.

"We're okay."

"I know."

He didn't sound like he knew.

I held out my hand.

He came back immediately.

I threaded my fingers through his.

"She isn't coming yet."

His thumb moved over my knuckles.

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"You barely know where you left your shoes yesterday."

"Those are separate issues."

Another contraction hit.

Harder.

I bent forward.

Damian's hand moved to my back.

"Breathe."

I wanted to tell him I knew how.

Instead, I breathed.

Because suddenly talking seemed unnecessary.

When it passed, I opened my eyes.

Damian was pale.

I laughed weakly.

"You look worse than I feel."

"Get dressed."

This time, I didn't argue.

An hour later, we were in the car.

Not because I had admitted I was in labor.

Obviously.

Because Damian had packed the hospital bag, put me in shoes, called Dr.

Reed, notified the hospital, texted Gabriel, checked the car seat twice, then somehow convinced me that getting examined would be "efficient."

His word.

Not mine.

I sat in the passenger seat wearing leggings, one of Damian's sweaters, and absolutely no dignity.

He drove.

Too carefully.

I looked at the speedometer.

"You're going under the limit."

"Yes."

"You're Damian Mercer."

"Observant."

"You drive like the road personally insulted you."

"You're pregnant."

"I was pregnant yesterday too."

"Today you're contracting."

I rolled my eyes.

Then shifted.

Warm liquid rushed beneath me.

I froze.

Damian glanced over.

"What?"

I looked down.

Then at him.

"Uh."

"What?"

"My water just broke."

His head snapped toward me.

The car swerved.

"Road!"

He corrected instantly.

"Drill."

I laughed.

Actually laughed.

Damian Mercer looked terrified.

"What do we do?"

I stared at him.

"You're asking me?"

"Hospital."

"Excellent. We were already going there."

"Bag."

"Back seat."

"Phone charger?"

"Damian."

"Do we have your insurance card?"

"You're literally on the hospital board."

"That's not relevant."

"Very relevant."

"Rabbit?"

I blinked.

"What?"

"The yellow rabbit."

A contraction started.

I grabbed the door handle.

"Why are you worried about the rabbit?"

"It's important."

"To who?"

"Evelyn."

"She hasn't met it."

"She will."

I laughed through the pain.

Then stopped laughing because the pain got worse.

Damian immediately reached across the console.

His hand found mine.

"Look at me."

"I'm looking."

"Breathe."

"I am breathing."

"Slowly."

"You breathe slowly."

He inhaled dramatically.

I almost wanted to slap him.

Instead, I squeezed his hand.

Hard.

"Ow."

"Good."

He looked offended.

Then my contraction eased.

We both exhaled.

For a few minutes, everything felt strangely perfect.

Not the pain.

That part sucked.

But us.

Damian driving.

His hand around mine.

My daughter finally coming.

After everything.

After years of waiting.

Two losses.

Appointments.

Needles.

Fear.

And suddenly this was it.

I turned my head and looked at him.

He was focused on the road.

Jaw tight.

Eyes serious.

My husband.

The father of my baby.

The man I'd once trusted without thinking.

The man I'd been trying to trust again.

"Damian."

His eyes flicked toward me.

"What?"

"I'm scared."

His expression softened instantly.

"I know."

"No."

My throat tightened.

"I'm really scared."

His thumb moved across my hand.

"I'm here."

Three words.

Simple.

Exactly what I needed.

I closed my eyes.

"Okay."

His phone rang.

My eyes opened again.

He looked at the screen.

Arabella.

Something inside me went cold.

Damian declined it.

Good.

The phone rang again.

He ignored it.

Again.

I stared at the dashboard.

"Don't."

"I'm not."

The ringing stopped.

My shoulders loosened.

Then another call came.

This time, Helena.

Damian frowned.

"She wouldn't call this early."

I already knew.

"Don't answer."

"It could be about—" "Damian."

He hesitated.

Then answered on speaker.

"Mother."

Helena's voice came fast.

Panicked.

"Damian, thank God."

My stomach dropped.

"What happened?"

"It's Arabella."

Of course.

I looked out the window.

Damian's grip tightened on the wheel.

"What about her?"

"She's bleeding."

My eyes closed.

No.

No.

No.

"How badly?" Damian asked.

"I don't know. She's terrified. Her ex won't answer. She's at Saint Claire's clinic."

I opened my eyes.

Saint Claire's.

Across town.

Damian's voice changed.

That calm, controlled tone he used when things went wrong.

"Is she with a doctor?"

"Yes, but she's alone."

My contraction began.

Strong.

I gripped the dashboard.

Damian glanced at me.

His face changed.

"Viv?"

I breathed through it.

Helena kept talking.

"She keeps asking for you."

I laughed once.

Painfully.

Of course she did.

Damian lowered his voice.

"Mother, Vivienne is in labor."

Silence.

Then Helena said, "I know."

I turned toward the phone.

She knew.

That bothered me more than it should have.

"Then you understand I can't—" "Damian, Arabella may lose the baby."

My contraction sharpened.

I clenched my teeth.

"Keep driving."

Damian looked at me.

"What?"

"Keep driving."

His eyes returned to the road.

Helena continued.

"Please. She has no one."

There it was again.

The sentence I had come to hate.

She has no one.

Apparently I had too many people.

Apparently my husband counted as spare.

Damian ended the call.

The car became silent.

For thirty seconds, he kept driving.

I counted every one.

Then he said quietly, "The clinic is six minutes away."

I turned toward him.

"No."

"I can make sure she's stable and—" "No."

"Vivienne."

"Keep driving."

"I'll only be a few minutes."

"I am in labor."

"I know."

"Our daughter is coming."

"I know."

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

His jaw tightened.

"Because if something happens to her baby and I could've—" I stared at him.

"Could've what?"

He didn't answer.

"Saved her?"

"That's not what I said."

"It's what you think."

"No."

"Then keep driving."

He said nothing.

The next exit appeared.

Damian took it.

My heart stopped.

I looked at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Traffic is backed up ahead."

For one second, I believed him.

I wanted to.

Then the clinic sign appeared.

Saint Claire's Women's Center.

My entire body went cold.

"No."

Damian slowed.

"No, Damian."

"Vivienne—"

"Don't."

He pulled into the clinic driveway.

I stared at him.

He parked.

Actually parked.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then a black Mercer sedan pulled in behind us.

I looked through the rear window.

Then at Damian.

"What is that?"

"My driver."

My voice came out flat.

"You called your driver?"

"He's taking you to the hospital."

I stared.

The words didn't make sense.

Not because I didn't understand them.

Because I understood them too well.

"You planned this."

"No."

"You called him."

"Two minutes ago."

"While I was contracting?"

"I needed to make sure you had transport."

"I have transport."

I pointed at him.

"You."

His face tightened.

"I'll be ten minutes."

"I'm in labor."

"I know."

"Our daughter is coming."

"I know."

"Then why are we here?"

His phone rang again.

Arabella.

He looked toward the clinic entrance.

That tiny movement broke something in me.

Not the call.

Not Helena.

Not Arabella.

That look.

The pull.

The instinct.

The same instinct I'd been warning him about for weeks.

"Damian."

He turned back to me.

My throat hurt.

"If you get out of this car, don't come to the hospital."

His face changed.

"Vivienne."

"I mean it."

"You're upset."

"I'm in labor."

"That's not what I—" "No."

My voice cracked.

I hated that.

I swallowed hard.

"If you leave me right now, do not come after me."

He stared at me.

At my face.

Then my stomach.

Then the clinic.

Silence.

Long enough for another contraction to begin.

I curled forward.

Damian reached for me.

I slapped his hand away.

"Don't."

"Viv—"

"Choose."

One word.

That was all.

Choose.

His jaw clenched.

I saw the war in his face.

Duty.

Fear.

Guilt.

Whatever he wanted to call it.

He opened the car door.

Something inside me went completely still.

He turned back.

"I'll be ten minutes."

I looked at him.

I didn't cry.

That surprised me.

Maybe I'd already cried enough over small betrayals.

Maybe there were no tears left for the big one.

"Go."

He hesitated.

Then got out.

The door shut.

I watched my husband run toward the clinic.

Toward another pregnant woman.

I sat there with my hand over our daughter.

For seven years, I had believed if the world ever split in half, Damian would stand on my side of the crack.

Apparently I'd been wrong.

Another contraction ripped through me.

I cried out.

The rear door opened.

Damian's driver appeared.

"Mrs. Mercer?"

I couldn't answer.

My hands were shaking too badly.

I reached for my phone.

Gabriel answered on the first ring.

"Viv?"

I closed my eyes.

His voice nearly broke me.

"Where are you?"

A tear finally slipped down my cheek.

"Come get me."

His tone changed instantly.

"What happened?"

I looked through the windshield.

Damian had already disappeared inside.

I pressed one hand over Evelyn.

Then whispered the sentence I never imagined saying about my own husband.

"He left me."