November 2024
No. No. No.
Before Taylor had even opened her eyes, she knew.
The pain had woken her up, the clammy feel of her skin and the stabbing cramps in her stomach swimming into her consciousness before she was able to wake up fully and pull back the covers.
And that's when she saw it ~ the blood. So much blood. Too much, for the baby that was currently taking up residence in her womb.
The little baby that she'd found out about only 3 weeks ago, alone in a hotel room in New Orleans, the baby about whom she had wept tears of joy over FaceTime while telling Travis, who had shed tears of his own, too.
Travis, her wonderful, amazing, goofy, loving fiancé. The one who would be the best dad ever, the one she couldn't wait to make a father.
And yet, here she was. So much blood.
She must have screamed at some point, she's not sure, but the next thing she knows her security is bursting through the hotel room door, Drew's face a mix of concern and wary, expecting to come into contact with an intruder. When his eyes finally land on Taylor, his face softens, ushering Jacob - the new, more inexperienced member of the team - out of the room.
'Taylor, I have to get you to a hospital now, okay?', he says gently, picking up her sweats and hoodie where she'd left them on top of her suitcase, approaching the bed cautiously.
Taylor doesn't hear him, too busy looking at the blood that has now made its way on to her hands, on her legs. 'My b-b-baby. My baby. I'm losing my baby!!'
Sobs take over her, her body shaking as Drew draws near, holding out a hand. 'Come on, boss. I'll help you'.
She looks up at him, distress written all over her face, as she slowly stands and accepts his help, slipping on the fresh clothes over her soiled pyjamas and letting him lead her downstairs and towards the car. She holds tightly to his hand, imagining it's the hand of an altogether different person, and he accepts it, barking instructions to the others to get her to the pre-approved hospital as soon as possible.
The next moments pass by in a whirlwind: she's greeted at the private entrance with a wheelchair and whisked up to the room, where the doctor is ready and waiting to examine her and tells her, in no uncertain terms, that she is suffering a miscarriage, and that all they can do is wait for it to pass. He tells her to rest, hooks her up to an IV and some monitors, and then the door clicks closed, leaving her alone.
Truly alone, because their baby was no longer there.
She supposes she cries herself to sleep, because the next thing that she hears is a whispered voice, laden with tears. 'Taylor' and 'I love you' interchangeably repeated.
Her eyes flutter open to find Travis there, his big, hulking frame bent double over the side of her bed, his hand grasping hers. His head is resting on her lap, and she can hear him sniffle, knows when he looks up his eyes will be red rimmed and glassy.
'Trav', she manages to croak out, and when he does look up at her, she can't help the tears that fall, eventually sobbing into his shoulder as he pulls her into his embrace.
'Oh baby, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I love you so much', he whispers into her ear, and his words only make her sob harder, clinging to the back of his shirt.
'I'm sorry, Trav. I'm so sorry, our baby. God, our baby. I couldn't even have our baby'.
Her heart feels like it's breaking in two, and he can only squeeze her tighter, stroke his hand up and down her back, press kisses into her hair, and repeat, over and over: 'It's not your fault, Tay. It's not your fault. It happens, it's not your fault'.
