He turned from the gray light of the window, his fingers dragging across his watch face. The small click of his gold wedding ring against the metal strap sounded sharp in the small room.
“It is nearly eleven,” he said.
I shifted on the thin hospital mattress, trying to find a position that did not pull at my lower back. The contractions had slowed for the morning, leaving a dull, heavy ache that felt like iron in my hips.
“The girls will be out of school in an hour,” I said.
“Michael is already there,” Aaron said. His voice dropped into that clipped, rapid rhythm he used when his mind was racing ahead of him. “He said he would park by the bike racks so they would see his truck right away.”
“That was kind of him,” I said. I brushed a stray lock of hair behind my right ear, my fingers feeling cold against my skin. “With his shift at the plant starting at four, he had to scramble to make the time.”
Aaron did not answer. He walked to the edge of my bed and looked down at my chart, though he could not read the nurse’s shorthand.
