She crossed her legs beside me and played with the collar of her shirt, as if she was debating putting it between her lips. An old nervous habit of hers that I missed. I’d missed a lot of her old habits.
“Is she doing all right?” I asked about Raine. “I know she’s probably freaking out because Hank isn’t here, but outside of that, is she OK?”
She dropped her hands to her lap and turned to face me. “Yeah, I think she’s coming around to being better than she was earlier. The baby is coming earlier than expected, but the doctors are taking really great care of Raine, which makes it less scary. Plus, so much time has passed that Raine’s anxiety has slightly faded. So all in all, she’s OK. Her and Hank are just going to be parents a lot sooner than they thought.”
“It’s so wild to me that they are going to have a kid.”
“They are the dream couple,” she said. “I used to wish for their kind of love story.”
“Used to?”
“I’m not sure my life is cut out for that kind of true love, but I’m happy to know two people who did receive it.”
“What do you mean your life isn’t cut out for true love?”
She shrugged as she sat back comfortably in her chair before crossing her arms. “I don’t really believe in love. At least not like I used to. I feel as if Raine and Hank are a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love story. That stuff doesn’t happen for most people.”
“But it could happen,” I argued.
“It’s highly unlikely, but it’s fine. At least I’m able to see that strong kind of love from a distance.”
“You don’t believe in true love for yourself?”
“Oh no.” She shook her head. “I believe in love. It just doesn’t seem to believe in me.”
“Who was the last person you loved?”
She grew somber and tilted her head toward me. “Well,” she whispered, her voice low and controlled, “I kind of stopped loving boys after a silly high school bet I once had.”
Me.
I was the last person she loved.
Before I could reply, a person came shooting through the hospital doors. He flew to the receptionist counter in a flurry. “Hello, I’m here to see my wife, Raine Jacobs, and—”
“Hank!” I called out.
He turned to face me and sighed with relief. Then he saw Shay and hurried over. “What’s going on? Is she OK? Will people not let you guys into her room? Is she alone? Oh my gosh, she’s alone. Did something go wrong? What went wrong?What’s going on?” He raked his hands through his hair nonstop in full freak-out mode.
Shay stood to her feet and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “It’s OK, Hank. She’s OK. Everything’s moving along well. She’s in her room now, and a doctor was just finishing up checking in on her. She just asked me to come out and make sure Landon was all right.”
“What does that mean? Why wouldn’t you be all right?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know. But for now, go see your wife. She’s going to be happy to see you,” I said.
“Or, she might kill you. It’s honestly up in the air right now,” Shay joked.
Hank hurried away in a fluster, probably beyond nervous about becoming a father. I knew he’d be great, though. Some people were born to be parents, and Hank Jacobs was one of those individuals.
As time moved on, Hank informed Shay and me that the baby would probably take a little bit longer to make an appearance in the world, so we could head home to get some rest.
It was pitch-black when Shay and I left the hospital. As we walked to our cars, Shay reached hers first, and I went to say good night, but she cut in first.
“So I’ve been thinking,” she started. She rubbed her hands together and bit her bottom lip. “About us.”
Us.
Yes.