“What does the text say about Haven’s condition?” I asked.

Wordlessly Joe handed the phone to me.

“Preeclampsia,” I said, reading the message from Ella.

“I’ve never heard of it before.”

“I have, but I’m not sure exactly what it is.” In a couple of minutes, I’d found a page on preeclampsia. “It’s a hypertensive disease. High blood pressure, severe water retention, and toxic buildup in the kidneys and liver.”

“How serious is it?”

I hesitated. “It can get really serious.”

His hands clenched on the steering wheel. “Life-threatening?”

“Garner is a world-class hospital. I’m sure Haven will be fine.” The phone rang, and I looked at the caller ID. “It’s Ella. Do you want to —”

“Talk to her while I drive.”

I answered the call. “Ella? Hi, it’s Avery.”

Ella’s voice was quiet, but I could hear the stress threaded through her subdued tone. “We’re in the waiting room at the neonatal ICU. Are you and Joe headed over?”

“Yes, we’re almost there. What’s happening?”

“This morning Haven woke up with a headache and nausea, but Jesus, that’s routine for her. She couldn’t keep anything down, and she went back to bed. When she woke up this afternoon, she was starting to have problems breathing. Hardy brought her to the hospital and they checked her vitals and did some tests. Her blood pressure is through the roof, and her protein levels are triple what they should be, and she’s acting confused, which scared the shit out of Hardy. The good news is, the baby’s heartbeat is normal.”

“How many weeks before the baby is full term?”

“Four, I think. But she’ll probably be fine, even being born this early.”

“Wait. Are you saying Haven’s in labor?”

“They’re going to do a C-section. Okay, gotta go – Liberty and Gage are just walking in, and they’ll want an update.” The call ended.

“They’re doing a C-section,” I told Joe.

He swore softly.

I looked back at the Web page on the phone. “Preeclampsia is usually resolved within forty-eight hours after the baby’s delivered,” I said. “They’ll give Haven medicine for the hypertension. The baby will be premature, but she’s developed enough at this point that there probably won’t be any long-term problems. So everything will be okay.”

Joe nodded, looking far from reassured.

The waiting room of the NICU was furnished with clusters of blue upholstered chairs and small tables and a sofa. Harsh overhead lighting imparted a lunar whiteness to the atmosphere. The assembled members of the immediate Travis family were understandably tense and subdued as they welcomed Joe and me. Jack, however, summoned a hint of his usual humor. “Hi, Avery,” he said, giving me a brief hug, adding in feigned surprise, “You’re still hanging out with Joe?”

“I insisted on coming with him,” I said. “I hope I’m not barging in, but I thought —”

“Not at all,” Liberty interrupted, her green eyes warm.

“We’re glad you’re here,” Gage added. His gaze traveled from my face to Joe’s. “No news about Haven yet.”

“How’s Hardy doing?” Joe asked.

“He’s been solid so far,” Jack replied. “But if she goes downhill any further… he won’t take it well.”

“None of us will,” Joe said, and the group fell silent.

We rearranged a few chairs and settled in the waiting room. Joe and I sat on the sofa. “You sure you want to stay?” Joe asked me sotto voce. “I can have you sent home in the hospital’s private car. This won’t be over any time soon.”

“Do you want me to leave? Is it better for the family if there are no outsiders here? Just be blunt, because I —”

“You’re not an outsider. But you don’t have to suffer in a hospital waiting room just because I’m here.”

“I’m not suffering. And I want to stay, as long as it’s okay with you.” I curled my legs beneath me and leaned into his side.

“I want you here.” He cuddled me closer.

“What did you mean, the hospital’s private car?” I asked. “Is that a new service?”

“Not exactly. The hospital has what they call a VIP program for benefactors. The family made some donations in the past, and Dad left them a bequest in his will. So now if any of us comes to the hospital, we’re supposed to wait in a VIP room, which is stuck in some distant wing of the hospital, with people hovering over you every minute. We’ve all agreed to avoid the VIP treatment whenever possible.” He paused. “But I’d break the rules if you wanted a ride home in a town car.”

“If you’re not going to be a VIP,” I told him, “don’t try to turn me into one.”

Joe smiled and pressed his lips to my temple. “Someday,” he murmured, “I’m going to take you out for a nice, normal date. No drama. We’ll go have dinner at a restaurant like civilized people.”

After several long, quiet minutes, Jack said he was going to get some coffee and asked if anyone wanted some. The group shook their heads. He left and returned soon with a Styrofoam cup filled with steaming liquid.

Ella frowned in worry. “Jack, it’s not good to drink hot liquid out of those kinds of cups – the chemicals leach into the coffee.”