He told me to get a cab.”

The paramedic looked at me, then returned her attention to the monitor.

Warren took off his wet coat and folded it neatly in his lap, as though controlling that one small thing might keep him from falling apart.

“I won’t make excuses for him,” he said.

At the hospital, a team met us at the entrance.

They wheeled me through bright hallways while someone explained that the bleeding could mean the placenta had separated from the uterine wall.

They needed to assess me immediately, and an emergency delivery might be necessary.

Their calm voices were the only thing keeping me from surrendering to fear.

“Is my baby going to live?” I asked.

“We’re doing everything we can,” a doctor said, refusing to offer false certainty.

I caught sight of Warren as they pushed me through a set of doors.

He stood beyond a yellow line, looking astonishingly small beneath the fluorescent lights.

“Please,” I called.

“Don’t let Vance decide anything for me.”