"Probably not. Pregnancy brain is a real thing!" I blow hair off of my eye. "I burnt three dozen cookies yesterday. One because I forgot to set the timer. The second time because I fell asleep and didn't hear the timer. And the third time because I thought I turned the oven off, but didn't."

"Do you need a babysitter?"

"Morocco's here."

"Maverick?"

I sigh. "He's at the office seven days a week right now, sixteen hours a day. I don't know whether to be p.i.s.sed off or worried about his health."

"That sucks."

"I see him less and less, and that mixed with crazy pregnancy hormones ... G.o.d, Finn. I screamed at him last night. I went nuts. It was one in the morning, he didn't call, and I just snapped." I lean back against the chair cus.h.i.+on. "I made him sleep on the sofa."

"What did he say?"

"He said I was overreacting. He's doing this for us, for the baby, and it's only temporary."

"You don't believe him?"

"No, I do. It's just ... how long, you know? He missed our appointment yesterday, and I wonder how many more he'll miss. What if work calls while I'm in labor, and he picks the d.a.m.n office over me?"

"Maverick might be a workaholic, but he's not an a.s.shole. He'll always choose you."

"I used to think that. Now I don't know anymore."

"Hey, how about I come over a day early? I'll skip cla.s.s on Friday, and we can do some shopping and eat at that pizza joint you love so much."

"Giordano's?"

"Yeah, the one with all the artery-clogging cheese. Baby Tavare will love it!"

"Friday?"

"No, Thursday. I just said a day early."

I suppress a snicker. "Oh, next Thursday?"

"Bye, Ali."

I'm in bed when Maverick gets home, but I'm still awake. I'm staring at the ceiling, hands caressing Baby T. I imagine his little eyes closing at my easy strokes, like I'm rocking him to sleep. I hum softly, a tune I make up as I go. He likes it, I'm sure.

The bedroom door opens, and light from the living room spills inside.

"Alieya?" Maverick asks, his voice hushed.

"Yes?"

He widens the door and comes in. I'm in the middle of our bed, and I don't move when he sits on the mattress. He slides a palm over my belly, then leans down and kisses it.

"Have you made your mom sick today?" His gaze flicks up to mine for an answer. I shake my head. "That's my boy ... or girl." Maverick pulls a teddy bear from behind his back. He presses its chilled, plastic nose against my skin. "We had a crazy day at work today. One of the defendant's witnesses changed his testimony from his deposition. Puts him at risk for perjury, but it really helps our case."

"Oh, good."

"Alieya, I'm sorry this has been so hard on you. I'm not coming home late on purpose."

"I need to know that we-this baby and I-are your priority. That you're going to be here when we need you."

Mav cups my face. "You are, both of you. Everything I do is for you. This job, these hours-"

I shake my head. "You've said that. But I need to know that we are the priority, not the things you do for us, not the job. Just us."

Maverick kisses me, then presses his forehead against mine. "It is just you. Always, always you."

Chapter 45.

Present day 1:04 p.m.

Twelve of the twenty-four hours have pa.s.sed.

Still no change.

Chapter 46.

Chicago, Illinois Two months ago I wake up to what feels like my stomach ripping itself to shreds. The pain takes my breath away. I curl up on the bed, making myself as small as I can, but the motion relieves nothing.

Beside me, the empty s.p.a.ce reminds me that Maverick's pulling an all-nighter at the office. I moan into the pillow. Fist the sheets and cry out.

What's happening to me?

Morocco saunters up and head-b.u.t.ts my arm. I try to focus on him, but a new wave hits and I bend into a tighter ball.

The pain subsides a little, and I reach for my phone on the nightstand. I pat the wood, knocking off the alarm clock. It's not there.

I roll onto my back. Sticky wetness clings to my thigh.

No. Oh, G.o.d, please, no.

I push the duvet off of me and slide to the edge of the mattress. Trembling, I run a hand over the sheet. The bed is warm with blood. I have to get to the bathroom. I stand. My knees buckle under me, and I fall to the floor.

Morocco nudges my elbow, meowing. The pain is crus.h.i.+ng me, but I crawl forward. Part way there, I halt.

I'm panting. Grabbing at my stomach. Morocco pushes his head into me.

"Okay," I breathe.

I make it to the bathroom before I collapse onto the linoleum. I understand what's happening, and I finally let go of the wail stuck in my throat. Morocco lies at my head and licks my hair as I sob.

Two months into my second trimester. How did I not realize something was wrong?

This tiny human, half Maverick, half me.

I'm dizzy. Dark spots cloud the corners of my vision, and I think if I close my eyes, I may not open them again. But I'm tired. I'm so, so tired.

Distantly, I hear the front door open, but I have no voice to call out to him. I'm empty, broken, fading.

Morocco cries. Maverick's footfalls grow heavier and quicker.

"Alieya?" He flips on the light.

His gaze roams over the floor and lands on me. Fear drains the color from his face.

All I see is dark, dark crimson.

And then there's nothing.

Maverick's voice wakes me. We're in an unfamiliar room. A hospital. An IV protrudes from the back of my hand. I follow the tube up to the stand. Two bags hang from it, one with clear liquid, the other with garnet.

"She lost a lot of blood," the nurse tells him. "We gave her one unit during the procedure, and we're giving her one unit now. She needs to rest."

"And the baby?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry."

I look away. I already know he's gone, but hearing the words...

b.u.mblebee.

Emerald.

Marigold.

Violet.

Magenta.

Periwinkle.

I say the colors in my mind as they slowly fade from existence.

Chapter 47.

Present day 6:05 p.m.

"Blood pressure and red blood cell counts are both in the normal range now," Laney says, taking the cuff off of Maverick's arm. "It's very good."

"Does that mean he can wake up now? That he's okay?" I ask, hopeful.

"It just means his vitals are stable. What's going on in his head is a different story."

"The concussion?"

"The brain works differently; it heals differently. So right now, his stabilized blood pressure and lab work means the surgery was effective, but we'll keep him sedated for the full twenty-four hours."

I look at the clock. "That's seven more hours."

"Dr. Santos will be making her rounds soon. For now, we're going to cut back on the blood pressure checks to once an hour."

I sink back into my chair, my hand automatically going to my stomach.

I can't lose Maverick too.

I hold his hand between both of mine and raise it to my mouth. "I'm sorry, Mav. I didn't mean what I said. I'm still fighting, I swear, and I need you to fight too. Now come back to me so I can kiss you again."

Chapter 48.

Chicago, Illinois One month ago "How are the colors?" Finley whispers.

Mav looks over his shoulder at me. I'm in bed, awake.

"Fading," he says.