Sucked Into Love Page 14

  “Ms. Devereaux needs her rest,” he said in a disapproving tone of voice.

  My dad sighed resignedly and kissed my cheek lightly. “I guess that means I should head out, but I promise I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” I replied.

  “If you need anything,” he said while glaring at Andrew disapprovingly. “Anything at all, you give me a call. I don’t care how late at night or early in the morning it is.”

  “I will,” I answered at the same time that Andrew told him that he’d make sure I had everything I needed. “It’s okay. Go ahead and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  The doctor approached the bed with my chart in his hand. “Looks like you have some serious damage to your left knee. This type of injury isn’t uncommon after a side-impact MVA, but I’m worried because of the past history of surgery to the joint. The x-rays showed a patella fracture. I also suspect you’ve suffered another ACL tear.”

  I grabbed for Andrew’s hand upon hearing the doctor’s diagnosis. I’d never fully recovered from my knee injury back in high school when the tendon had torn completely away from the bone. I remembered how painful the whole process had been and dreaded the idea of going through it again, especially since I was pregnant.

  “I’m going to need surgery, aren’t I?” I asked fearfully.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” the doctor confirmed. “I’ve already asked for an ortho consult, and one of the surgeons will be in to talk to you about that.”

  “I want Dr. Christensen,” I said, requesting the orthopedic surgeon the team used. I’d rehabbed a lot of his patients since I had started working for the Cavaliers and respected the heck out of his skills in the OR. As a physical therapist, I knew how crucial the selection of a surgeon could be to the healing process. Getting the best surgeon possible could mean the difference between a full recovery and using a walker for the rest of my life.

  The doctor hummed in response and looked down at the chart. “One of the trauma guys was assigned to your case already.”

  “I’ll make some calls,” Andrew interrupted. “If she wants Dr. Christensen to do the surgery, I’ll make it happen.”

  “I’m not sure he’ll be available. I’m pretty sure I heard someone mention that he was out of town,” the doctor said.

  Andrew stood and glared at him while getting his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t care if I have to send a private jet for him. Do whatever it is you need to do to book an OR for her surgery and I’ll make sure he’s here to perform it.”

  I smiled apologetically at Andrew’s display, but a little thrill ran through me at his insistence that I’d get what I wanted. I watched as he sent off a quick text before returning his attention back to the doctor.

  “And the baby?” Andrew asked.

  “It’s still very early in the pregnancy, which is a blessing with the accident because the baby is very well protected inside your womb,” he reassured us both. “I’ll order an ultrasound to be safe, but please keep in mind that the embryo’s development is in the early stages yet, so we won’t be able to see much even if we do it vaginally.”

  “I want it done now,” Andrew said hoarsely. His hand moved to cover mine over my stomach.

  The doctor just nodded and left the room, presumably to get the ultrasound machine.

  “I’m scared,” I whispered. “What if there’s something wrong with the baby?”

  “You heard the doctor. He’s going to run the test just to be cautious. There’s no reason to think anything’s wrong with the baby,” Andrew reassured me even though he still looked worried.

  “And surgery!” I cried out, the implications of the damage done to my knee hitting me hard. “How am I going to manage work while recovering? Especially if I’m pregnant?”

  “Shhh, sweetheart,” he soothed me. “We’ll figure everything out. Let’s take this one step at a time. Let the doctor do the ultrasound so he can confirm that the baby’s okay. Get Dr. Christensen here for your knee surgery. Find out exactly what to expect for your recovery. Once we know more, we can make some decisions.”

  I thought back to the first words he’d said when he’d entered the room. One of those decisions was if we were going to get married or not. We really needed to talk about it, but now wasn’t the right time with the doctor due back any minute.

  I glanced at the door and was surprised by the words that popped out of my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry about, Jocelyn?” Andrew asked as he leaned closer to me.

  “It’s probably my fault I’m pregnant,” I admitted. “If I’m six weeks along, it had to have happened shortly after I got over the bronchitis and sinus infection. We used condoms every single time, and odds are the one that failed was mine. It had been sitting in the gift bag in the trunk of my car for weeks before I moved into the apartment. I didn’t even think to check to make sure there weren’t any holes in it or anything.”

  Andrew smiled down at me and placed a fingertip over my lips to get me to stop rambling. “Your protection is my responsibility, sweetheart. If I managed to knock you up while you were on the pill and using a condom, then it was meant to be,” he said, repeating part of what I’d said to the doctor when I’d first heard I was pregnant.

  I heaved a huge sigh of relief from knowing that he didn’t blame me for getting pregnant. “Our responsibility,” I stressed.

  “And our baby. I guess I have strong swimmers,” he said smugly as the doctor returned to the room with the ultrasound machine.

  Andrew stepped to the side and made a couple of phone calls while the doctor got me situated for the test. Once I was covered again by the sheet and the doctor was starting, Andrew moved back to the side of the bed and reached for my hand.

  “The placement looks good,” the doctor told us as a grainy, black-and-white image came up on the monitor. Then he clicked the mouse a couple of times and a line appeared on the screen.

  I heard a swishing sound and looked at him questioningly. “Is that our baby?”

  “Yes. That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor answered. “About a hundred five beats per minute, which is in the normal range for six weeks into the pregnancy. It’s good that we can hear it, too. Sometimes you can’t pick up the heartbeat for another week or so.”

  I gazed at the monitor in wonder. There was a tiny life growing inside me that Andrew and I had created.

  “That’s our baby,” Andrew choked out.

  Finishing up quickly, the doctor cleaned me up and left the room so we could have some privacy. I could barely breathe as the weight of our situation hit me. In less than eight months from now, we would be parents. We hadn’t even known each other for that many months yet. We’d just celebrated our first Thanksgiving together as a couple and were getting ready for our first Christmas at the end of next week. And next year, we’d be celebrating them with our child for the very first time.

  “Holy shit, Andrew,” I whispered. “A baby.”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “A perfect little boy or girl who’s going to get the very best parts of each of us.”

  “But what are we going to do?” I wondered aloud, feeling overwhelmed by the situation. “I mean, I know we’re practically living together, but the lease on my apartment won’t be up until right around when the baby is due. The recovery from my injuries is going to be brutal and… Well, and I’m pregnant for God’s sake! And I’ve only been working for the Cavaliers for half a season. How am I going to explain this all to them?”

  “Breathe, sweetheart,” he soothed me as the heart monitor started to beep. “You need to calm down. I know I rushed my proposal and fucked it up. You need some time to process this. We both do. Let’s take it day by day for now. Get you through the surgery and back home with me and then we’ll figure out where to go from there.”

  I closed my eyes as I breathed in deeply, trying to stave off a panic attack. I nodded my head as tears leaked from my eyes. He was right. We had time to decide what we were
going to do.

  “You’ll stay with me tonight though, right?” I asked, worried he’d leave me alone in the hospital.

  “Of course I will, Jocelyn,” he promised. “I’ll be here as long as you need. Until you’re ready to come home. Now close your eyes and try to get some rest.”

  “I love you,” I sighed as I followed his instructions. I could already feel some of the tension leaving my body as my fatigue took hold of me.

  “I love you, too. And I promise everything will be okay. I’m here with you now. I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear before gently kissing the top of my head and swiping a lock of hair from my brow.

  Alec came into my room as I started to drift to sleep and I could hear Andrew talking to him quietly. I wasn’t sure how much information he shared with him, but I was sure that everyone was going to be shocked by our news.

  ****

  They kept me immobile for the next day as Dr. Christensen consulted with my OB/GYN on options for surgery. When they finally decided on the best course of action, he came to talk to me.

  “I won’t lie, Jocelyn. I have serious concerns about how the surgery can impact your pregnancy,” he began.

  My heart plummeted and Andrew looked devastated.

  “What can we do to minimize the risk?” I asked, trying to focus on my options and outcomes so I could make an informed decision.

  “We’ll have to use a spinal anesthetic instead of a general anesthesia or local knee block. This means you will be numb from the waist down instead of being asleep or having sensation to the knee blocked. It’s the safest route because not as much anesthetic is needed with a spinal anesthetic as compared to general anesthesia.”

  “And why is it better than a local block to the knee?” Andrew asked.

  “The surgery is going to place a lot of stress on the knee, and I need to make sure she doesn’t feel any of the pain because I don’t want to risk that her blood pressure might go up. Sometimes, a local block to the knee is incomplete,” the doctor explained.

  “Bottom-line it for me please,” I said.

  “Surgery can usually be done safely in cases like this as long as we use a spinal anesthetic and fetal monitoring. But there's still a one-to-two percent chance it will cause you to have a miscarriage.”

  I reeled from the blow this news delivered to me and gripped Andrew’s hand even tighter. “And if I say the risk isn’t acceptable? What if I refuse to have surgery?”

  Dr. Christensen looked at me apologetically. “That’s not really an option I’d recommend, Jocelyn. If it were just the ACL tear and you didn’t have your medical history, then I’d suggest we wait and see if it healed with rest and therapy. But you know as well as I do that we need to go in and repair the fractured patella. It’s not going to heal on its own and the ACL tear has no hope of healing without repairing the patella.”

  I nodded in agreement, knowing that what he’d said was true. But the very idea that I was going to risk my baby’s life was impossible to bear. “What if I remain non-weight bearing until after the baby is born?”

  “If we wait that long, the best-case scenario would be we do the surgery and eventually you may be able to walk normally again. Odds are you have loose fragments from your patella in your knee, which could cause further complications. And the pain you’d be in during your pregnancy would increase the risk of miscarrying anyway,” he explained. “We both know surgery is usually avoided during pregnancy. Emergencies do come up though. Your situation certainly qualifies as an emergency. Having the surgery now is your best course of action.”

  I looked to Andrew for guidance.

  “You asked for Dr. Christensen because he’s the best. I think we need to take his advice and move forward with the operation.”

  Unfortunately, he was right, so I agreed to the surgery. They scheduled it for the next morning, and the day flew by in a flurry of tests and visitors. The nurses didn’t seem happy with the amount of people who stopped by since we completely ignored visiting hours, but they didn’t question it. I wouldn’t have either if I were them and Andrew was around. He only left my side to run home to shower and change when my dad came to see me the first morning.

  My dad had kept his promise, too, and returned several times. Things had been awkward at first, but the enormity of my situation eased some of the tension between us because we both realized how precious our time together was. Not that I trusted him completely yet, but I was sure we were headed in the right direction.

  Cee-Cee and Alec were regular visitors as well. Cee-Cee was stunned to learn I was pregnant but quickly became excited by the prospect of being a godmother.

  Andrew’s parents stopped in a couple of times. The first time they were here, they brought a huge bouquet of flowers—their pink and blue colors letting me know instantly that they already knew our news. His mom cried as she hugged me and his dad slapped Andrew on the back in congratulations.

  But this morning, Andrew asked everyone to give us some space. While I waited for them to take me down for my surgery prep, he sat on the edge of the bed, holding my hand tight.

  “You have the best surgeon in town,” he reassured me. “And I made sure the anesthesiologist is top notch too. Everyone says there’s nobody better in Chicago.”

  Although I was terrified of what lay ahead, I knew that Andrew had done everything in his power to give the baby and me the best odds. He’d been so incredible since the accident, but I could see the concern darkening his eyes. As the orderly entered the room, I took this last moment with him to offer him some peace as well.

  “I love you, Andrew. When the surgery is done and I’m on the road to recovery, we’ll have lots of decisions to make. But I need you to know how very much I love you.”

  The sight of his tears broke my heart as he leaned down to give me a gentle kiss before they took me away. I kept my eyes locked with his, wishing desperately that his gaze was the last thing I saw before the surgery began.

  Everything was a blur after that. Although I was awake for the surgery, they were able to give me something to settle my nerves that let me drift away in my mind. I was faintly aware of the procedure as it happened and tried to focus on the beeping of the fetal monitor—a comforting sound in the background that confirmed the baby was doing great while they were fixing my knee.

  It seemed as though they were done and rolling me into recovery fairly quickly.

  “Andrew,” I slurred. “I need Andrew.”

  The nurse who had been in and out of my room since the day I’d arrived squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll go get him for you.”

  Moments later, he rushed through the door. “Jocelyn,” he breathed.

  “Ssskay. Baby, good.” I tried to let him know that we were both okay, but I drifted off to sleep before I could finish.

  ****

  My recovery from the surgery was a difficult one even though everything had gone well—both for me and the baby. They sent me to the short-term rehab unit for five days before allowing me to choose between discharging to a facility for a couple of weeks or going home with Andrew. Not that I was allowed to make the decision myself. Andrew had already arranged for a private duty nurse to care for me around the clock and insisted I was going to his house since it was set up perfectly for my recovery with the master suite on the first floor.

  I was finally able to go home on Christmas Eve. I was amazed to see a Christmas tree in the window as we pulled up to Andrew’s house. We hadn’t gotten around to decorating before the accident and he’d been at the hospital with me practically the whole time.

  “You have a tree,” I whispered in wonder.

  “I didn’t want you to miss out on the holiday just because of your injury,” Andrew replied. “My mom came over and did the tree and some decorating around the house. She even gave us half of her Christmas village set that Alec and I have given to her as gifts throughout the years. And she made my dad come over and put up lights. I just need to turn them on.”

&nbs
p; After parking, Andrew very carefully transferred me from the car to the wheelchair he’d pulled out of the back of the Cadillac Escalade he’d had brought around to the hospital so it would be easier for him to transport me around town. As he wheeled me up a ramp and through the back door into the kitchen, I realized that Andrew hadn’t left any stone unturned in his quest to make sure I was comfortable.

  I noticed that a raised seat and frame were on the toilet and a bath bench and grab bars had been added to the walk-in shower when the private duty nurse helped me into the bathroom. Once I was done, she checked my vitals and got me set up in the hospital bed that had been installed in the master suite next to Andrew’s king-sized bed. There was a rolling walker in the corner of the bedroom even though I was still restricted to the wheelchair for a little while yet.

  The nurse promised to check on me several times throughout the night and let me know that she was right upstairs if I needed her. She handed me a walkie-talkie so I could reach her at all times, explaining that Andrew had asked her to leave as much of my care to him as she possibly could, so she didn’t plan to hover too much.

  Andrew returned with more of the flowers I’d received and placed them around the room. It was only early evening and I was already exhausted.

  “This isn’t exactly how I envisioned us spending our first Christmas Eve together,” I told Andrew sleepily after the nurse had left us alone.

  “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. As long as you’re with me, it’s perfect.”

  ****

  Falling asleep right away meant I woke up bright and early on Christmas morning. I glanced over and saw Andrew sleeping in a pair of pajamas I hadn’t seen before since he didn’t usually wear anything to bed. He was practically about to roll off the side of the bed closest to me, his arm flung over the edge like he was trying to reach out for me in his sleep. I could see dark smudges under his eyes showing how tired he must have been after having slept on the cot they’d brought into my hospital room for him.