look of intense concentration. Geoffrey hovered by my side.
'What?' I asked. 'What's happening?'
Mr. Smith told me that although I was slightly effaced, my cervix was still closed. Geoffrey looked relieved, but I asked Mr. Smith the question anyway, 'Does that mean the babies are okay?'
'Yes. But we're going to hook you up to the fetal monitor just to be absolutely sure,' he said, and then motioned toward the nurse. I shivered as she slid my hospital gown up and strapped three monitors around my stomach. She told me one monitor would measure contractions, and the other two would trace the babies' heartbeats. I held on to the cold bar next to my bed and kept asking her if she could hear them.
Geoffrey told me to be patient, that the babies were still small and that sometimes it takes a moment to locate them. I waited, still imagining the worst. Finally, a joyous galloping sound filled the room. Then another. Two heartbeats. Two
'So they're both still living?' I asked, my voice trembling.
'Yes, darling.' Geoffrey's face broke into a smile. 'They're both fine.'
In that moment of relief, something in my mind clicked, and I realized what had been troubling me in recent days. It was all so clear. Maybe a crisis will do that for you-make you see things that were there all along. Or maybe it was the connection I felt to my sons, hearing the
Just to be sure, I asked Geoffrey if he wouldn't mind getting Ethan for me.
'Certainly,' he said. 'I'll send him back while Mr. Smith and I have a chat.' He leaned down and kissed my forehead before leaving the room with his partner.
A moment later, a still pale Ethan opened my door and walked hesitantly toward me. His eyes were watery, as if he had been crying or trying hard not to cry.
'Didn't Geoffrey tell you? Everything is fine.'
'Yes. He told me.' Ethan sat tentatively at the foot of my bed. He squeezed my foot through the sheets.
'Then why do you look so upset?'
'I don't know… You just had me so worried…' His voice trailed off.
I adjusted my bed to a more upright position and then lifted my arms to indicate that I wanted a hug. Ethan obliged, his cheek resting against mine as his arms encircled me. In that simple but soulful embrace, one simple truth was confirmed in my heart: I was in love with Ethan.
twenty-nine
Geoffrey barged back into the room in the middle of my transforming hug with Ethan. At least it seemed as if he were barging, given my mind-set, but more likely it was his usual dignified entry. In any event, I felt flustered and guilty. I told myself that for once, I had not cheated. I couldn't control my feelings, and Geoffrey couldn't read my mind. Neither could Ethan for that matter. By all appearances, I was only hugging a friend. Yet inside I was reeling.
I watched Ethan stand and walk over to the window, as if to give Geoffrey and me privacy. I wanted to yell out, 'No. You stay here. You belong next to me.' But instead I looked at Geoffrey, standing at the foot of the hospital bed with his erect posture, in his starched white shirt and perfect suit and tie. Despite our ordeal, he remained composed, unruffled, and steadfast. It was clear to me why I had been confused about loving him, why I had wanted so much to love him. On paper, he was perfect: handsome doctor, committed lover, seeming savior.
'What happens now?' I asked Geoffrey as I fiddled nervously with the unraveling hem of my hospital gown. Of course, I meant what would happen in the next few minutes and hours, but to myself, I was also wondering about the long-term future. I had been fooled into falling in love with what was on paper once before. Dex had been all about the checked boxes, the fine fiance resume-good guy, chiseled cheekbones, careful grooming, fat bank account. And look how disastrously that relationship had ended. I vowed to myself not to make another seven-year mistake. Or even a seven-day mistake. I needed to break up with Geoffrey within a week.
My soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend informed me in a brisk, professional tone that Mr. Smith had decided, and he agreed, that as a precautionary measure, I was to be on bedrest until the babies arrived. He said that they didn't want any unnecessary pressure on my cervix. I had read that bedrest was common in twin pregnancies, but I still felt shaken by the news.
'So I have to stay in bed all day?' I asked.
Geoffrey said yes, except to use the bathroom or shower. He said that I had to avoid all stress, as stress can cause contractions.
'Can I get up to fix meals?' I asked.
'No, darling. I will hire someone to come in and cook and look after you while I'm at work.' He thought for a second and said, 'I know a wonderful Portuguese woman who helped after Max was born. You will love her.'
Ethan turned to face us, his eyes flashing. 'That won't be necessary, Geoffrey.' His tone was emphatic and take-charge. Sexy even. He continued, 'I'll write at home and take care of her.'
I smiled, feeling touched, and also tremendously relieved. I didn't want to stay in Geoffrey's flat. I wanted to be home with Ethan. I wanted to be with him forever. I marveled at how such a monumental realization can unfold in an instant and change every single thing in your life. I loved Ethan. It was crazy, but there it was anyway. Even if he never loved me back, my feelings for him negated any possibility of a future with Geoffrey. I had never understood what people meant when they said they'd rather be alone if they couldn't be in the right relationship. Now I got it. I wanted Ethan or no one.
'You don't mind writing from home?' I asked him tentatively.
'Not at all.'
'But I thought you said you couldn't think in your flat?' I asked him. 'I don't want to infringe on your creative process.'
Geoffrey, who seemed to sense what was happening, seized on this opening and said, 'Yes. We don't want to impose on your writing.'
I held my breath and felt my muscles tense as Ethan walked over to my bed and squeezed my shoulder. 'Darcy and her babies are not an imposition.'
'Darcy?' Geoffrey looked at me plaintively, his palms pressed together in front of his chest. 'Is this arrangement okay with you?'
'Yeah,' I said apologetically.
'It's settled then,' Ethan said. 'Let's go home.'
It was after midnight when Ethan, Sondrine, and I spilled wearily onto the dark, narrow street outside the hospital and waited for Geoffrey to swing his Jaguar around from the short-term parking lot. He got out of the car, hurried around to the passenger side, and helped me into the front seat. Ethan and Sondrine sat in the back.
On the drive to Ethan's flat, Sondrine chirped about how she'd come over and cook for me, and Geoffrey thanked Ethan half a dozen times for his 'generous spirit' and his 'willingness to help in a pinch.' I stared silently out my window, trying to process exactly what I was feeling. There was guilt over my impending breakup with Geoffrey. There was relief that my babies were okay. There was worry that I still had a long road ahead of me. Most of all, there was my love for Ethan, a love that reached down to my core and made me feel both queasy and exhilarated.
When we arrived home, Ethan awkwardly invited Geoffrey and Sondrine inside. Of course, they had no choice but to decline. I mean, what were we all going to do? Pile in Ethan's bed for a midnight snack of tea and biscuits? I heard Ethan whisper an apology to Sondrine. She murmured something back that I didn't quite catch-something about how she'd miss him-and then there was the sound of a quick kiss. Geoffrey followed suit, brushing his lips against mine and saying that he would call me in the morning. Then he said, 'Drink as much water as you can because dehydration can trigger contractions. And stay in bed.' By his expression, it was clear that he had not forgotten that there was only one proper bed in Ethan's flat.
