Chapter 2

Adrian caught my wrist before I reached the end of the hall.

Behind us, someone called his name. Leo began to cry.

"Dr. Mercer! Ms. Ward fainted!"

Adrian let go at once.

I kept walking. I didn't need to look back to know where he had gone.

On my way to the OB-GYN department, I called Dr. Vivian Shaw, my former supervisor. Her fellowship offer had been sitting in my inbox while I found reasons to put off answering it.

"Vivian, I've made up my mind. I'm accepting."

There was a pause, then a delighted laugh. "You mean it? Maya, that's wonderful. I was beginning to think I'd have to come drag you out myself."

For the first time that morning, I almost smiled.

"It's still three years?"

"Three years. It'll be hard work, especially coming back after so long, but you're more than capable. I'll get the paperwork moving again. Send me whatever you haven't already sent."

Before my marriage, I'd finished my medical training near the top of my class and trained under Samuel Reed, a surgeon whose approval was difficult to earn. He had taken me on as his only protégé. Vivian still remembered that woman. Most people in my life now knew me as Adrian's wife, or the person available to watch Leo.

"Don't include Adrian in the arrangements," I said. "Just me and my mother. I want her to come with me."

Vivian's voice changed. "All right. Send me her information too."

She didn't ask me to explain in a hospital hallway.

I ended the call as my name appeared on the waiting-room screen: Maya Bennett. I'd kept my own surname on my medical records. The doctor seeing me knew my history; she didn't know the marriage behind it.

In the consultation room, I told her I wanted to end the pregnancy.

She went through my situation with me, her voice serious. "You're seven months pregnant, Maya. In your case, there are serious risks with the procedure, including a risk to your life. I need to be sure you understand that."

I sat with my hands folded over my stomach. I had spent years imagining a child with Adrian. That morning, trying to picture going home and continuing as his wife made me feel trapped in the chair.

"I understand the risks," I said. "Please schedule it."

The doctor gave me time to ask questions. When we finished, she wrote down the appointment.

"Three days from now. Ten in the morning."

Outside her office, I read the slip again. My hands wouldn't stay steady enough to fold it neatly.

Not long after Adrian and I married, Celeste had left the country. A year later, she'd returned with a baby and a story about a man who had abandoned them both. I remembered sitting beside her while she cried, furious on her behalf, promising she wouldn't have to do everything alone.

Then I'd helped her raise Adrian's son.

I stopped near the stairwell and wiped my face before anyone could see me crying. A small movement pressed against my palm. I waited, and the baby moved again.

My resolve wavered.

I'd wanted this child through five years of treatment. I knew the appointments, the disappointment, the effort it had taken to reach this point. I had made my decision in that room, but my hand stayed over the place where I'd felt the movement. For a moment, I couldn't take another step.

Then I heard Celeste's voice on the other side of the stairwell door.