18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Marketa

I watch my dad, seeing him stare at something and by the look on his face, I can clearly see how unhappy he is by whoever is there. However, the medicine is starting to kick in and I close my eyes.

“What are you doing there?” my dad demanded.

“Checking up on Marketa. I can’t stay long but wanted to see her.” I open my eyes briefly to see Shawn poke his head in and smile at him. He came after all; he proved my dad wrong.

But the thought leaves as I vanish into the void of darkness.

“Where is Shawn?” I asked my dad for the fourth time. I know I saw him last night. It wasn’t my imagination. Sure, the drugs were good and eased the pain that was still there now, but I know I wasn’t seeing things.

“He’s not here. How many times are you going to ask that? I told you that he would bail on you.”

I narrowed my eyes at my dad and frowned. I know Shawn wouldn’t bail on me. But I also have no clue why he wouldn’t be here. It can’t be because my dad is here.

“Ms. Jones?” the nurse asks, poking her head in. “I have a special delivery for you.” She walks over with a cup in her hand and a smile on her face. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you.” I take it, then have a sip, smiling at the fruit punch, mango, and kiwi mix that Shawn and I had found at a local bistro. It was an uncommon mix that the owner had done for me, since coffee wasn’t happening, and the only person who knew about it was Shawn.

He might not be here for whatever reason, but he was thinking about me, and that was just as sweet. I reached for my phone, but my dad grabbed it, shaking his head.

“You have to leave soon for some more tests.”

“So? I can send a thank you to Shawn for the drink.”

“Are you sure it was him, Marketa?”

“Dad, he’s the only one who knows about this. Of course it was him.”

I watch as my dad just rolls his eyes and stuffs my phone in his pocket. I’d love nothing more than to get up and wrestle him for it, but right now, the doctor said no sudden movements and complete bed rest until they can figure out what’s going on.

They did a quick ultrasound after there was some blood loss on the way to the hospital, and they could catch the baby’s heartbeat, so I hadn’t lost her yet. But they were trying to figure out what was going on. Not that any of that eased the worry in my chest.

Two hours later, after we came back from the Cat Scan, there’s a large bouquet of flowers in my room, and I gushed. The bright, colorful bunch makes me happy, just like he knew they would.

After I got in bed, the nurse handed me the card and I quickly scanned it, smiling even more as Shawn told me he’s here with me and can’t wait to hold me again. And, of course, to think happy thoughts.

As I sat on the bed, I tried to reach for the vase to smell one but winced as a pain shot through my abdomen.

“Fuck me,” I groan, holding onto the area.

“What the hell are you doing, Marketa?” my dad bellows as he storms into the room. “Lay down, right now.”

He pushes me down slightly and I shake my head.

“I was trying to reach for a flower.” He looks behind him, finally taking in the bright bunch and rolls his eyes.

“That man is going to do you more harm than good.”

“He might not be here physically, but he’s thinking about me.”

“Some juice and some flowers aren’t things that’s going to help you, why can’t you see that? Having him here, holding your hand, taking you to the places you need to go, that’s what you need.”

I stared up at him, twisting my lip. I want to fight him, want to retort something back, but in truth, I’m not sure what’s keeping Shawn. I mean, I know he would be here if he could, so I’m not sure why he’s not. But I won’t deny that the things he did send were things I needed to help me.

They both made me smile, both made me feel good, and both got me out of this funk that had settled, so he knew well enough.

“Ms. Jones,” my doctor said as she walked in. “Wow. It’s quite…colorfully bright and cheerful in here.”

Four days later, I glanced around the room, having to agree with her. There were all kinds of stuffed animals, flowers in various stages of life, posters, balloons, and pictures. Every time a new delivery came, my dad would blow up.

He would constantly say that Shawn needed to be here, not to be sending stuff. And on the first day, I did agree with him. I was a little upset with Shawn.

However, when I had managed to get my phone for a moment and shoot him a text to thank him for everything, I did ask where he was.

He said he couldn’t come up because we weren’t married, but that he was in the lobby every chance he could be, waiting for me to get out.

That warmed my heart because I knew he proved my dad wrong.

But then I told him I could ask the nurses to change it, I never heard anything back. So, I wanted to believe my heart more than anything that he was there, but then I knew life too. I didn’t believe my dad, that was for sure, but I was questioning it.

“My boyfriend sent me stuff. Making sure I was okay.”

“About that,” the doctor said, taking a seat next to the bed. “You and the baby are fine. However, I would very much advise that you take the remainder of your pregnancy very lightly. As little stress and anxiety as possible. You weren’t having contractions, exactly, but your body was protecting itself over everything going on in your life.”

“I caused this?”

“No, Marketa, but outside circumstances did. I’m not sure what’s all happening, but I can tell you that it’s triggering this. And if you keep on this path, you’re likely to lose your baby. Now, I want to keep you for a little while longer, just to make sure everything is okay. But I will get the release papers done. I also want you to come to my office for at least weekly checkups.”

“Yes, Doctor Maggie. My boyfriend, Shawn, is outside. Can he come in so I can talk to him about this? He’s the baby’s daddy.”

The door opened and I glanced over to see my dad walk in, his eyes bouncing from the doctor to me.

“Mr. Jones,” she said. “Marketa, we weren’t the ones not to allow him in. Your dad was and he said Shawn couldn’t be in your room.”

I snapped my eyes back to my dad, the anger sizzling, even though the doctor just told me to be mindful of things like this.

“What the hell, Dad?” I screamed, wanting to throw something at him. “You need to stop being so protective! I told you Shawn wasn’t the bad guy, but you sure as fuck are!”