Thirty minutes later, I’m lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a saline drip, eyes closed. The trial, Vivian says, has begun without me, but they are willing to rearrange the schedule and hear my testimony later in the afternoon, or possibly tomorrow. I just need to get back on my feet by then, which shouldn’t be a problem. I already feel much better. This saline is really doing its stuff.

I’m alone at the hospital. Vivian made it clear she needed to get back, to cross-examine the witnesses Xavier would try to provide. I told her not to worry, to absolutely go ahead and go. I’m fine here now, surrounded by doctors, and I don’t want the case to suffer in my absence.

The nurse comes in. “Do you think you could eat anything yet, dear?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t want to push it.”

“Have you eaten anything so far today?”

“No.”

“I’m going to order you a meal and you’ll do your best with it. Yes?”

“Yes,” I agree. It’s nice to be bossed around just a little, to have someone telling me what I need to do to get better.

“Your blood tests are being fast-tracked through the lab,” the nurse says. “I understand you have an important trial to be getting back to.”

I’m a little embarrassed. “It’s not that important,” I say. Of course, it’s vitally important to me, but I don’t expect everyone I meet to be as invested as I am.

She smiles. “I’ll just go see if the results are back yet, okay?”

“Okay,” I agree.

The nurse disappears and I gaze out the window. Sacramento really is beautiful. I should probably call my mother and tell her what’s going on, I guess, but there’s the fact that she doesn’t even know I’m in Sacramento to consider. It would be kind of awful to call her and tell her that not only did I leave town without telling her, I actually ended up in the hospital. She would be in her car and speeding the whole way to get here. I can’t let that happen.

Besides, nothing is really wrong with me, and there’s no reason she ever needs to know about this. Probably just the nerves and low blood sugar or something.

The nurse comes back into the room holding a chart and wearing an expression I can’t place.

“What’s up?” I ask. “Is that the results of the blood test?”

“Yes,” she says, and hesitates. “Honey, do you have a husband, maybe, or a boyfriend you’d like to call?”

“I’m single,” I say slowly, starting now to worry. Does she think I’m going to need emotional support? Is the news that bad? “What is it? What does it say?”

“You’re pregnant,” she says.

My head spins again. “What?”

“Is this a surprise?” she asks gently.

“I…yes. Wait. I’m what?”

“You’re pregnant. It’s still early days, but we can do an ultrasound to try to learn more.”

I nod dumbly, even though I don’t need the ultrasound to tell me exactly what happened and when.

This is Kyle’s baby. He’s the only man I’ve been with in five years. Six weeks ago, we slept together and…God. How could I not have realized something was wrong?

The nurse is watching me closely. “Do you want to call somebody?”

Slowly, I shake my head. Who could I possibly call? Not Kyle. For all I know, he might be on the stand giving testimony at this very moment. I’ve already damaged the case enough by landing myself in the hospital when I was supposed to be testifying against Xavier, and Vivian scared me with her talk of the case starting to fall apart as more and more people pulled out. If I call Kyle and tell him what’s going on, the best I can hope for is that he’ll run to my side, and that would ruin the case completely.

I could call my mother, but I’m honestly not sure I could deal with that right now. I’m having enough trouble not panicking on my own. If I try to tell her about this, I’ll have to explain not only the trial and the fact that I’m in Sacramento, but also the fact that I’ve been intimate with a man. She’s not ready for that information.

“No,” I say, looking up at the nurse. I’m surprised to hear how steady my voice is. “No, I don’t need to call anyone.”

“Shall we go ahead with the ultrasound, then?”

I nod.

She rolls in a cart laden with equipment and pushes the little TV monitor over so I can see it. I lie back and stare at the ceiling.

I can’t really be pregnant, right? This ultrasound is going to reveal that it’s all a mistake. I know there’s such a thing as a false positive in this field, and I can’t be pregnant. I’m just barely starting to get my life back together after what happened at the ranch. I’ve got my job and my apartment under control. I pay my bills. Things are going okay.

But I’m not prepared to be a mother.

No. It’s a mistake. I can’t be pregnant.

And then I hear a rushing, washing machine type of sound I’ve heard on TV before, and the nurse says, “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

And as the panic swells up in me again, another emotion—one I can’t quite identify—grows alongside it. I’m excited. I’m fascinated. I’m spellbound.

A baby. A little baby, and it’s mine. It’s part of me.

“Oh,” the nurse says, her eyebrows shooting up. “This is interesting.”

“What? What’s interesting? Is everything okay?”

Ten minutes into this and I’m already a helicopter mom, panicking over the wellbeing of my unborn baby. I can’t stand the thought that he or she might have something wrong. Please be okay.

“Everything’s fine,” the nurse says. “Tammy, honey, do you happen to know if multiple births run in your family?”

“Multiple births?” I think back over the family tree, all my aunts and uncles. “Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”

She smiles at me. “Because it looks like you’re expecting twins. Congratulations!”

I fall back onto my pillow, stunned.