Tansy:Hey, sorry, I just saw these.
Tansy:I’m tired and about to go to bed, but I didn’t want to ignore you after…everything.
Tansy:I can talk if it’s urgent. Otherwise can we do this tomorrow?
He hadn’t known how to respond. He desperately wanted to talk with her about everything that had happened today. But his urgency had sharpened and redirected toward the current crisis. Amy. He couldn’t focus enough to tap out long text messages with his sweaty thumbs, couldn’t be on the phone in case Omar called with an update.
Jack:Tomorrow’s fine.
It was another hour before Jack’s head swiveled at the sound of steps coming around the corner into the waitingarea. When Omar saw him, his step stuttered. “Jack,” he said gruffly. Then he caught the back of a chair, his face immediately contorting with emotion, and doubled over it.
Jack lurched. His body took him across the room, but he didn’t knowhowbecause his heart was on the floor where he’d been standing, along with all of his insides. His breath caught painfully in his throat. “Amy?” he croaked.
Omar stood and threw his arms around him. He clutched the back of Jack’s shirt in both fists, and he tried to speak, but his body convulsed with a sob.
A freight train roared in Jack’s head. Something terrible had happened. He was going to be sick. He was going to have a fucking heart attack right here.
“Omar.” The high strain in his voice must have short-circuited Omar’s outpouring because he pulled back to look at Jack, tear-streaked, but…smiling.
“Sorry. Shit. She’s okay, man. They’re both—”
NowJackdoubled over. Omar tried to pull him into another hug, but Jack had a death grip on his knees, and all Omar could do was clutch his shoulders tightly, anchor him, and repeat, “Amy’s good, man. She’s okay. She’s fine.”
“Fuck you,” Jack gasped after a minute, rubbing his chest over his galloping heart. “You and your fucking tears. I thought—Jesus.”
Omar chuckled. It was apologetic and a bit watery, like it might trip into another sob. He blew out a harsh breath, sniffled, and wiped his eyes. “I had to keep it together in there. I’ve been in all kinds of urgent situations, but…it’s different when it’s the love of your life. I think it all just hit me when I came out here.”
“She’s okay,” Jack repeated, as much to confirm as to getthe message through to his body, which was still on a runaway train of panic.
“She’s good. Baby’s good. Didn’t even do the surgery because she came so fast. I’ll let Amy tell you about it. But you should go home for the night. Visiting hours don’t start back up until seven a.m.”
Jack had no intention of driving back home. “I’ll bring y’all breakfast. Something better than hospital food.”
“Yeah, that’d be good.” Omar hitched a thumb over his shoulder, and his smile broke wide. “Gonna get back to my girls.”
—
In the morning, Jack knockedbefore letting himself into Amy’s recovery room. There was a curtain just inside the door, and a wave of trepidation made him pause behind it.
From the other side of the barrier, he heard a pained hiss and then Omar’s gentle murmur. “I love you, baby. What can I do?”
Jack rounded the curtain to find Omar seated on the side of Amy’s bed, hunched toward her and stroking her hair.
And then he stopped so suddenly his boots squeaked on the floor.
Information came to him in slow motion. There was Amy, cradling a wrapped-up bundle of baby to her chest. And there was the open flap of her gown, Omar’s hand covering her. She was trying to feed the baby. Her baby. Jack’s niece. And Omar appeared to be helping.
Jack whirled around, cheeks burning, his head like a suddenly empty hamster wheel, its runner flung out the side.“Sorry,” he said, eyes shooting straight to the ceiling in case there were any mirrors or chrome surfaces that could possibly reflect the image of Amy’s bare breast to him.
“You’re really gonna be that guy?” Amy said. She sounded tired, but there was amusement there—Amythere. “I’m going to be feeding this girl twelve times a day for the foreseeable future. You’re going to have to get used to seeing my boob occasionally.”
Omar made a sound in his throat like,Well, does hehaveto, though?And Jack’s laugh burst out with everything he’d held in these last several hours. This wasn’t funny. It was awkward as hell. Butawkwardwas miles away from the restless worry that had kept him from getting any sleep in a hard waiting room chair last night until it was time to go find breakfast tacos.
He couldn’t turn around, but it wasn’t because of the possible nudity. His throat felt tight, and the sound of Amy now cooing softly to the baby, and Omar joining in, pressed in on his chest so hard, he had to rub the spot over his heart to work out some of the ache.
“I guess she’s done,” Amy said uncertainly. “Okay, Jack, you can turn around.”
He heard the sounds of shifting on the bed and snaps being closed.
