Wilson keeps standing there. Like a pillar. Like a fool. It doesn’t matter. I already know how this is going to end, and I have enough things to worry about instead of whether Wilson is sticking around out of misplaced guilt.

“Didn’t you hear me?” I snap.

Wilson steps forward.

I glare at him. “Get out.”

Another step.

Panic squeezes my heart. “Go. Go be with Violet.” I hurl the words like a missile. They burn my tongue. “Go be happy with someone you actually love.”

The bed dips. Wilson climbs on, takes my arms and pulls me in. The moment my forehead falls against his strong shoulder, I start crying again. Which is a miracle in itself. I thought all my tears were dried up.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His thumb rubs circles into my back. “You hear me, Zora King? I’m with the woman I love so if you want to push me away, try something else.”

My nose is stuffed and my heart is broken. I’m in no state to receive those words. “You’re…” I sob, “lying.”

“Hey,” he pulls back and stares at my ugly, crying face, “the only person who can call me a liar is Kent. And maybe Amaya. But I’ve always been honest with you.”

“I’m not pregnant anymore.”

“I know.” The bed creaks as he readjusts his weight. “And I’m sorry. So sorry you had to go through that alone, Zora. I hate that I wasn’t there for you.”

He looks so torn up that I reach up and cup his cheek. “It’s not your fault.”

He presses his hand over mine. “You either.”

“Why are you doing this? We were only together because of the baby.”

“You promised to marry me in two years, remember?” He turns my hand over and kisses my palm. His beard is scratchy against my skin. His eyes are glassy and for the first time, I realize that losing the baby must have hit him hard too.

“But that was before—”

“No buts. I’m going to hold you to that promise so don’t try and get rid of me until then. Okay?”

I nod and whisper, “Okay.”

He lets me go and climbs off the bed. The silence stretches as he just stands there, looking at me. Finally, he takes a trembling breath and says, “The police are searching for Keanu.”

Just the sound of his name causes me to stiffen. “He’s not dumb enough to stick around. He’ll try to get out of the country.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll find him. I don’t care how much it costs or how long it takes.” His fierce expression says he means that.

A memory of Keanu kicking my stomach flashes in my mind. Did that cause the miscarriage? Or was it the concoction he forced me to drink?

A new wave of fury washes over me. That monster. I can’t believe I ever loved him.

“The police want to speak with you when you’re up to it,” Wilson says.

“I can talk to them now.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod. “The sooner Keanu’s caught, the better.”

“Okay.” Wilson steps outside to make a call and then returns to wait with me. Ten minutes later two policemen show up. They’re dressed in khaki shirts with silver buttons, navy blue trousers with a green stripe down the sides and shiny leather shoes.

The moment they walk in, the air charges. They seem like experienced lawmen and the stockier one, who’s obviously in charge of my case, speaks with an air of authority.

They ask about the incident, their pens ready and their black eyes focused.

I tell them everything, starting with bumping into Keanu in the hallway and ending when he dropped me off at the hospital to get medical help.

“Thank you, Ms. King,” the officer says. He taps his clipboard. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Sure.”

Even though all I’ve done is talk, my body is spent. I fall back onto the cot as Wilson shows the officers to the door. When he turns around and spots me, a small smile climbs his face.

“You look beat.”

“It’s so weird because I slept for hours this morning.”

“Go back to bed.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be here.” He nods resolutely. “No matter when you wake up, I’ll be right beside you.”

I drink in the sight of him. This mess with Keanu has taught me that falling for a cute face is a dangerous way to find love. As much as I appreciate Wilson’s looks, his support right now means far more.

“Here.” Wilson fluffs my pillow and then guides me to lie down.

I sweep my eyelids closed. “Will?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you solve the problem at your company?”

“I did. Wrapped everything up in a neat little bow too.”

“That’s good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go soon.”

He chuckles softly.

Somehow, I fall asleep. When I wake up next, two beautiful faces are hovering over me. The first has cocoa brown skin and short brown hair. The second—darker skin and long black hair.

“She’s up!”

“Zora, girl, you okay?”

I blink twice, struggling to find my bearings after my deep nap. The women step back and allow me to breathe. I recognize them then—Diandra and Amaya.

“Who told you?”

“I did,” my brother’s voice rings behind them. I glance over their shoulder where Thomas is striding forward. He’s wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt. His dark face is slightly less intense than when he stormed out this morning.

I run my tongue over my fuzzy teeth. That’s unfair. How come he gets to shower and look presentable for company while I look a mess?

Amaya turns to me. “I texted you this morning but you didn’t answer. Then I drove by to check on you and police were crawling all over your apartment. I panicked and called Thomas.”

“She demanded I give up your location.”

“I was prepared to fight until he told me where you were.”

I glance at Diandra. “How are you here? Don’t you have work?”

“I told my supervisor I had explosive diarrhea.”

I snort. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Diandra tosses her head with a self-satisfied smile. “Works every time.”

I grin, my mood rising with their presence.

I told Thomas not to call them earlier even though the first person he wanted to stand in for him was Amaya. Everything was still too overwhelming, and I didn’t want to deal with anyone.

I should have known those two wouldn’t be like my co-workers who struggled to hide their awkwardness behind stilted condolences and lowered gazes.

Gretchen was especially uncomfortable around me. It’s clear my situation hit her harder than if she was dealing with some random patient.

“You didn’t have to do that.” I smile at Diandra. “But thank you.”

“Diandra’s very kind, isn’t she?” Thomas says.

“Me?” Diandra flutters her eyelashes, “I wouldn’t say that.”

Amaya and I exchange looks and chuckle. It’s so obvious they’re dating.

At least Amaya doesn’t seem to be upset about it. Not that she has any reason to. She’s got an amazing life with Kent.

Speaking of Kent, he bounces into the room at that moment, his arms filled with snacks. He kicks the door shut with his foot and goes straight over to Amaya as if no one else in the room exists. “Babe, there weren’t any Oreos.”

“What?” Amaya pouts. “What kind of hospital vending machine doesn’t have Oreos. This is a travesty. Zora, who do I complain to?”

I laugh. “Not sure.”

“Oh, hey, Zora.” Kent smiles at me. “Glad to see you up. You want anything?”

I survey his stash but before I can say a word, Wilson jumps up. “She can’t eat junk right now, Kent. Just ice.”

“Ice?” I slant him a look. “I’m hungry.”

“Then you can have porridge,” he says like I’m a child.

My lip curls up in distaste. “I hate porridge.”

“Then you can have a pudding cup,” Amaya and Diandra say together.

I glare at them. “Don’t try to foist the pudding cup on me just because you don’t want it.”

“Come on, man.” My brother frowns at Wilson. “Just let her have a little something. Nobody has to know.”

Wilson plants his feet into the floor. “No way.”

“Alright, alright. Simmer down,” Amaya says. “Gosh, you two are like peacocks.”

“Peacocks?” Thomas makes a face.

“Why not lions or eagles or sharks?” Wilson agrees.

Amaya replies snottily, “That would be an insult to lions, eagles and sharks.”

“But not peacocks?” Kent says, tearing open a package of moon pies with his teeth.

“Nope. I hate peacocks. They’re like cats. So arrogant.” She frowns. “It’s annoying.”

Laughter bubbles from my throat.

I end up laughing a lot more that evening. It gets so bad that the doctor rushes in and chases everyone out so I can rest.

Amaya squeezes my hand before she goes. “Call me. Anytime.”

“Thanks.”

Diandra gives me a hug.

Kent clears his throat and says in a grave voice, “I’ll write this down and remember to visit.”

“I appreciate that, Kent.”

He nods and walks out.

Thomas and Wilson stay behind.

The doctor clears his throat. “Will the two of you sleep here?”

“I’m her brother.”

“I’m her fiancé.”

I chuckle. “They won’t be a problem, Dr. Fernandez.”

“Okay…” He gives them the side-eye. “Zora needs plenty of rest. Try not to raise her blood pressure.”

The men nod and act placidly until the doctor disappears out the door.

The moment he’s gone, Thomas sneers. “Fiancé?”

“That’s right, buddy. You’re stuck with me.”

“Come on, Zo. Can’t you pick some other dude?”

There’s an element of playfulness beneath their usual heated banter that makes me smile, but I quickly shade the expression with a frown. “Should I call Dr. Fernandez back so he can kick you out?”

The men take my threat to heart and fall into their own corners of the room. I turn on my side so my face is away from both of them and let the hollowness in my heart take over my entire body.

Hanging with my friends was a balm on a tender wound, but it’ll take a while until I heal.

“Zo?” a voice whispers.

I turn around and notice Wilson bringing a chair closer to my bed. His brown eyes are dancing beneath the fluorescent lights.

“Hey,” I answer. “Why are we whispering?”

Wilson points over his shoulder. “Your brother fell asleep.”

A glance up reveals Thomas conked out on the cot the hospital provides for family members. His long limbs fall over the ends of the bed. It looks like he’s sleeping on an open crib.

One half of my lips curve up. “That’s funny.”

“Yeah.” Wilson brushes my hair back, his expression serious. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine.”

“Zora…” There’s scolding in his tone.

I sigh. “It hurts. A lot. I didn’t even know the kid, but he was a part of me. A part I was supposed to protect. And I failed. Again.”

“Again?” Wilson’s eyebrows hike.

Shame fills me. “I had an abortion when I was nineteen.”

Flickering eyelashes are his only reaction. I hold my breath, waiting for him to snap at me or point out that I lost this baby because of karma.

Instead, he takes my hand, his eyes filled with sympathy. “Oh, Zora. I’m so sorry.”

For the third time that day, I lose it and spend the next fifteen minutes bawling into Wilson’s shirt.

It’s a healing cry. His love wraps around me like a cloak and I bury myself in it. Somewhere, beyond this chaos of guilt and pain, love is a light that guides me home.