I peered over the railing. All the du Lacs had been kicked out. There was no way she could still be here…
“Story?” I called as I went to the stairs, eyes on the open door.
“Yeah?” she called back.
I knew I had to check, as dread wove inky through my veins.
“Are you okay for five minutes?”
“Contractions haven’t started yet.”
I pushed the door open into Lottie’s side of the wing. My worst fucking fear confirmed by the shadow on the floor, sitting against the back of the couch. Staring out at the ocean.
“Why the hell are you still here?”
She looked over her shoulder. Her lips cracked with dehydration, hair wild and frazzled; she was in the same satin pajamas from her baby shower.
“They won’t let me leave.”
“What do you mean they won’t let you leave? Your mom and dad are gone.”
She stared at me like I was insane. “If I give birth here, married to you, then the world keeps on spinning…and spinning…and spinning…”
Fear was wine. My vision blurring, the room slimming. It was the ominous hand clutching my chest, the grip that hadn’t dissipated after West’s words, slowly curled tighter around my heart.
“Have you been here this whole time?”
Lottie groaned a moment later. I nearly opened my mouth to demand her to tell me what was wrong, when I saw. Water pooling between her legs onto the hardwood, reflecting the white sky outside.
I stumbled back. “Holy shit.”
Lottie jerked her head to mine. “It’s nothing. Go away.”
“You’re in labor?” I eyed her like it was a trick.
“No!” Her face contorted and she groaned into her hands. “This is all wrong. I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. I want all of this to go away.”
“You’re lying. Again. Your entire fucking family is supposed to be gone.”
She groaned. “It’s not up to me. I didn’t choose this. I don’t ever choose anything.”
“Who the fuck else is here?”
Lottie’s eyes slowly met mine. “I don’t know.”
The sense of dread that washed over me was like the time I went swimming in December. But the slow numbing started from an icy cold drip in my soul.
She wasn’t safe.
Something slammed against Lottie’s door, like an open-fisted knock.
I jerked to it. “Who the fuck is that?”
Lottie’s brows drew, her mouth parted in a pleading look, and she shrugged.
“Open it.” I nodded from Lottie, to the door.
She stood weakly, hobbling over to the door. I had a brief pang of self-disgust at making a woman in labor walk—at making Lottie do this, when she was so weak.