A candy bar thuds in the bottom of a vending machine, and I reach in to grab it before I begin to walk back to my office with enough calories worth of food to gain a pound. My stomach hardens as if it’s warning me I should rethink my binge. Since I’ve got to try to focus on work before I meet Henry for lunch, I settle behind my desk to review this afternoon’s motion one more time.

After the third bag of salty goodness, my belly cramps up, and I lean back in my chair to stretch it out. I let out a moan. Perhaps junk food wasn’t such a good idea. When the pain subsides, I decide it’s best to move the rest of my vending machine treats into a drawer for another time, and I wonder if I’ll be stuffing them into a box with my things later today after Henry lets me go and I get fired. I manage to spend the next hour working with the hope it’s not all in vain before it’s time to leave to meet Henry.

I’m still not feeling well as I make my way down the hall to leave, and when the elevator doors whoosh shut I get another cramp. I place my hand on my stomach and whisper. “I’m sorry, baby. I swear I’ll get a salad for lunch. Okay?” As if my child heard me, the cramp loosens. My skin is damp with sweat, and I wonder if I’m letting stress get to me. I know it isn’t good for my child or me, and I try to concentrate on something other than the idea that I may be jobless soon.

I take a deep breath as I step off the elevator. I’m looking for Henry’s car, and when I see it I walk over. As the driver opens the door, a breeze blows through my hair and cools me down. No matter what my client has to say to me, I plan to handle the news with dignity. I’m known for always maintaining my cool under pressure, and it occurs to me that I have a darn good reputation as a lawyer. I may not get to keep my current job, but there are plenty of other firms that would want me. And plenty of them have a friendlier environment for parents than where I am now. I recall one that even has on-site daycare set up for the new babies who have been arriving since men from Eroscia started moving here almost two years ago. Many female dominated workplaces are actually a warm, nurturing environment for mothers. I let that knowledge soothe me as I gaze out the windows of Henry’s Town Car while it weaves in and out of traffic.

When we get to Antoine’s, the Italian bistro where I’m meeting Henry, I thank the driver as he helps me out, and I take a moment to inhale the odor of garlic wafting out the doors as I think about my favorite pasta dish. But instead of making me salivate, it makes me a little queasy. Am I experiencing the morning sickness I thought I’d managed to escape?

The moment I step inside, Henry sees me. He gets up to meet me as I walk toward the table. “Cassie.” He takes my arm and leans in to whisper. “I’m so sorry I almost blew the whistle on you this morning. Congratulations. When are you due?”

I chuckle as I sit in the chair he pulls out for me. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“I try not to.”

“November,” I say. I glance around. “I’ll be telling Lara soon.”

“I understand, and that’s—”

Searing-hot pain slices through my lower back, and I let out a small noise as my stomach cramps up harder than it did before. Sweat trickles down my brow as I hunch over. “Oh no.” I wonder if this is what a contraction feels like, and the icy cold fingers of fear grip my heart. Am I having a miscarriage?

“Cassie, my dear, are you okay?”

I shake my head as my pain becomes mixed with fear. “I think something’s wrong with my baby.”

“Hold on.” Henry grabs his phone. “I’m going to get you an ambulance.”

I think about the scene it’s going to cause, especially considering the fame of my lunch companion, and I say, “No. But I do—” I moan as another wave of agony rushes though me. Henry’s words are faint in the background as I fight the urge to cry.

He takes my hand and tips my chin up with a finger. “Can I reach in your purse to get your cell and call Tristan?”

I nod and croak out my passcode so he can unlock the phone. I focus on long slow breaths until a siren blare announces the ambulance. Henry gets up and begins to clear people out of the way. He kneels beside my chair and takes my hand. “I’m going to be right by your side until Tristan comes. It’s going to be okay.”

Hot tears roll down my cheeks because I don’t think it is. I’m afraid I’m losing my child, but I say, “Thank you.”

Henry offers me a wry smile and wipes a tear from my cheek. “You’re welcome.” He steps out of the way as a paramedic swoops in to help me onto a stretcher.

The ride to the hospital goes by in a blur as I answer questions. They give me a light sedative, and by the time I’m being wheeled into the emergency room my pain is bearable. Tristan rushes over to me and grabs my hand. His expression is fearful, and his grip is strong. I hear terror in his voice when he says, “Cassie.”

“It’s the baby, Tristan.” I squeeze his fingers. “I’m so scared.”

“Sir, you’re going to have to wait out here,” says a nurse as I’m wheeled toward the emergency room doors.

“But I’m her husband,” says Tristan.

“Your wife is going to be fine,” says the nurse. “I’ll update you as soon as we know anything.”

He leans down and kisses me quickly. “Everything will be okay. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I say as he releases my hand reluctantly. Wheels rumble over the tile floor as I’m pushed through a doorway.

A whirlwind of activity happens around me while I’m hooked up to monitors, blood is drawn, and my vitals are checked. A woman with blond hair pulled back in a ponytail that drapes over her shoulder says, “I’m Doctor Carroll. I understand you’re having some cramping.”

I nod.

“When did they start?”

“This morning,” I say. “But they didn’t hurt much at first. I thought it was because of something I ate.”

“Okay. How is your pain now?”

I think about the dull ache in my belly that comes and goes. “They gave me something, so it’s not too bad.”

“All right. I’m going to do a pelvic exam so we can figure out what’s going on. Okay?”

“Sure.” I close my eyes and try to relax as Dr. Carroll examines me.

When she’s done she says, “It appears your baby is anxious to get out.”

“But it’s way too soon.” I wish Tristan were here to hold my hand.

“It is.” She smiles kindly. “So we’re going to take measures to keep the little one inside you for as long as we can. Would you like your husband to come in and hear this too?”

“Yes.”

My need for my husband fills me with near panic, and when Tristan comes in the exam room I sigh with relief. He pauses for a second, and I notice his usual greenish pallor is a sickly shade of chartreuse. The doctor quickly assures him, “Cassie isn’t losing the baby on my watch.”

He rushes to my side and lifts his hand to touch me. It shakes a bit, as if he’s afraid I’ll break, before he smooths an imaginary strand of hair out of my face. His words are braver than his expression. “Our baby’s a fighter,” he says.

“It sure is,” says Dr. Carroll. “We’re going to have to fight back for a while though. At least until your child is viable.” She looks at me. “I’m ordering you to bed rest for the remainder of your pregnancy.”

Tristan and I speak at the same time. “Bed rest?” My voice is full of panic while Tristan sounds confused.

“Yes,” says Dr. Carroll. “Tristan, Cassie will need to stay reclined or sitting as much as possible to keep the pressure of gravity from interfering with her keeping your baby in her body.”

“But I’m a lawyer,” I say. “I have a big case.” The heart rate monitor begins to beep faster as the reality of my situation ramps up my emotions. “The Henry Wyatt one.” I glance at Tristan as if he can save me. “I can’t do my job from my bed!” The beeping of the monitor ramps up more as it seems to get louder.

“Cassie,” says Dr. Carroll as her cool hand lands on my arm and she leans in to lock her gaze with mine. “Take a deep breath.”

I inhale slowly along with her and then exhale just as slowly. She says, “I know this is overwhelming and feels like the end of the world right now, but it’s only a few short months.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” I reply. “You’re not the one who has to stay stuck in a bed while trying to win a legal case.”

“We can make it work,” says Tristan. “I’m happy to do everything you need. I can wait on you and run to the office to get any papers you need. And you know what? We can even set up a video—”

“Stop!” Tears rush to my eyes, and I speak in a softer voice now, “Please stop.”

Tristan frowns at me. “Cassie, I know you’re upset right now. But it’s going to be fine.”

“What? You think I’m going to be able to do a teleconference from my bed?” I look at Tristan through a watery veil. “There’s no way Lara would allow it.”

He sighs and takes my hand. “We’ll figure this out. The important thing is that we didn’t lose the baby.”

I close my eyes as tears roll down my cheeks. He’s right. That is what’s important, and I should be grateful. But that knowledge doesn’t take away the ache in my heart.