Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Do you want me to grab you a blanket?” I ask her and she shakes her head. “I’m going to grab one, just in case,” I mumble.
“Okay.” I rush back in the house to the kitchen, grabbing her purse, then snatching up the throw blanket that is draped over the back of the sofa, before I run back to slide my sneakers on and grab her slides that are right next to mine. I open the back door of the SUV, dumping the stuff on the seat, before I get into the SUV and pull out. “You okay?” I ask her and she just grumbles. “I hope driving doesn’t make you more sick.”
“You and me both,” she mutters, the seat moving to a lying-down position.
The drive to the hospital takes me twenty minutes and it feels like it’s the longest twenty minutes of my life. Every single minute I was looking at the clock, then looking at her. She slept the whole way, which is a good thing, I guess. I went under the speed limit to make sure we got here safe and also making sure she didn’t get more sick, while at the same time all I wanted to do was speed here.
We pull up to the emergency side of the hospital and I park the SUV and then look around. “Baby,” I say and she mumbles, “I’m going to go and get you a wheelchair.”
She turns her head to look at me and barely has her eyes open. “Okay,” she agrees, “I’m just going to sleep.” Her skin color is even more pale than it was before.
I get out of the SUV and run into the emergency room, seeing the security guard sitting on a stool at the door. “Hey,” I say, looking around, “is there anywhere I can get a wheelchair?”
He nods his head before he points to the side where there is a row of wheelchairs. “Thanks.” I jog to one and then rush back out to the SUV. I open the door and unbuckle her seat belt before grabbing her and placing her in the wheelchair.
“I don’t feel well,” she mumbles and then leans over to heave on the side. I grab her purse before shutting the door. “Jaxon,” she says my name, “I don’t want to hear you say I told you so, but I feel like shit.”
“I bet you do.” I push her into the emergency room, looking around for the signs to registration.
I rush to the glass with her as she puts her head back and starts to pinch her nose with her two fingers. “Hi,” I greet the girl behind the glass separator, “we need to see a doctor.”
She looks at me and then at Ariella. “What is the problem?”
“She’s pregnant.” That’s the first thing I say, my body filled with so many nerves, it’s like I forgot how to speak. “She started throwing up last night and hasn’t stopped since. She thought it was food poisoning, but I don’t think it’s that.”
She nods her head. “Does she have insurance?” she asks me and I look back over at Ariella.
“Baby,” I ask, squatting beside her, “do you have insurance?”
“Yeah,” she mumbles, “it’s in my bag.” She puts her hand on her bag and I grab it from her.
“Can we see a doctor and then answer all these questions?” I am at my wits’ end. “I can give you my credit card now and you can just charge it.”
“Sir, we need her information,” she says to me and I open her purse and grab her wallet before going back to her. She looks at me now, but her eyes look like they are glazed over.
“Baby, please show me where your card is.” My heart speeds up even more in my chest as she grabs the wallet from me, but it’s like her whole body is shutting down. I look back at the woman whose eyes go wide as she picks up the phone and I hear her voice out of the intercom.
“Evaluation nurse at triage,” she says, putting the phone down and then pointing over to the two doors beside her. “Go through those, there will be a nurse waiting for you.”
I wheel her to the doors and they slide open, and a nurse comes to the desk on the side. “What do we have?” she says, looking at Ariella.
“She’s been throwing up for the last twenty-four hours,” I explain, my voice going higher. “She’s ten weeks pregnant,” I continue, looking at Ariella who’s fighting to open her eyes, “maybe nine weeks.”
“When was the last time she ate or drank anything?” The nurse comes over to hold her wrist.
“She ate some pizza last night and she hasn’t been able to drink anything. She took a couple sips of water and then threw it up.”