Love in the ER

CHAPTER 21

The early morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Paris and Oliver were wrapped up in each other, enjoying a rare moment of quiet intimacy before the day at the hospital would pull them in different directions. It had become a bit of a routine—stolen moments together before the chaos of their jobs took over.

Oliver's hands gently cupped Paris's face as they kissed, their breaths slow and steady, savoring every second before they had to part for work. It was natural, familiar, and something they both cherished.

But then, the sound of a door opening sharply broke the moment.

Before either of them could react, a voice filled the room. "Oliver?"

They froze mid-kiss, the mood shattered. Oliver blinked, pulling back slightly to look over Paris's shoulder, and his heart dropped when his eyes landed on the person standing in the doorway.

It was Denise.

"What the hell?" Oliver's voice was filled with shock, his body immediately tensing as he turned to face her fully. Paris, still startled, quickly sat up, glancing between Oliver and the stranger now standing in the room.

"Denise?!" Oliver snapped, the shock quickly turning into anger. "What are you doing here?"

Denise stood there, wide-eyed, as if she hadn't expected to see them like this, her expression a mix of embarrassment and something else—something almost unreadable. Her face flushed, and she quickly averted her eyes, but it was clear that this wasn't the kind of entrance she had planned.

"I—" Denise stammered, glancing at the floor, then back up at Oliver. "I didn't realize..."

Paris, now fully alert and sitting up, shot a confused glance at Oliver. "Who is this?" she asked, her voice calm but clearly thrown off by the sudden intrusion.

Oliver ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, but his gaze remained fixed on Denise. "This is Denise," he said tightly, "my ex."

Paris's eyes widened in surprise, but she stayed quiet, her heart beating faster as she tried to process what was happening.

Denise took a hesitant step forward, still avoiding eye contact with Paris, her voice trembling slightly. "I just... I didn't mean to interrupt, Oliver. I wanted to talk. But clearly..." She trailed off, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. "Clearly, this was a bad time."

Oliver's jaw clenched, his anger barely contained. "Yeah, you think? You can't just show up here—especially like this."

Denise's eyes darted toward Paris for a moment, then back to Oliver. "I didn't know you were... I didn't realize things had gotten this serious," she said quietly, her voice tinged with something almost like regret.

Paris, still processing the whole situation, kept her gaze on Oliver. "Oliver, what's going on?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Oliver sighed, his frustration evident. "Denise, we've been over this. You and I... we're over. I'm with Paris now. You can't just show up and expect things to be different."

Denise blinked rapidly, her emotions flickering across her face—disbelief, frustration, and something bordering on desperation. "I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly. I just... I wanted to see you."

Oliver's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "This isn't how you do that. You can't just walk into my life again and ignore what's changed. I'm with Paris now."

Denise swallowed hard, taking another step back as if the weight of his words had finally hit her. "I didn't mean to cause trouble,...."

"Denise, I told you—" Oliver began, standing to face her, but this time, Denise's expression was different. She looked more serious, almost as if she was gathering all her strength to say something important.

"I wasn't finished, Oliver," Denise said, her voice low but filled with determination. "There's a reason I came here today, and it's not just because I miss you or wanted to catch up."

Oliver frowned, his frustration quickly turning into confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Denise took a deep breath, her eyes darting nervously between Oliver and Paris, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, her brows furrowed in concern.

"I didn't want to tell you like this, but I'm... I'm pregnant, Oliver."

The room fell silent.

Paris's heart dropped to her stomach as the words hit her like a freight train. Her body stiffened, her mind racing as the weight of the revelation pressed down on her. Pregnant? What was Denise even saying? Her chest tightened painfully, and before she could stop herself, she stood up, her hands shaking slightly.

"What?" Oliver breathed, his face paling as he stared at Denise, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "Pregnant?"

Denise nodded, her voice trembling now. "Yes, and that's why I'm here. I wouldn't have come if it wasn't for this. I needed to tell you. I thought you deserved to know."

Paris felt like she had been punched in the gut, her heart pounding in her ears. Without a word, she backed away from the bed, her breath quickening. The room seemed to close in on her, and before anyone could say anything else, she turned and fled toward the door, her mind spinning.

"Paris!" Oliver called after her, rushing to follow, but by the time he reached the hallway, she was already gone, the sound of her hurried footsteps echoing through the corridor.

He cursed under his breath, his hands clenched at his sides before turning back to face Denise. His eyes were filled with anger and confusion now. "Are you serious? You're pregnant, and you thought the best way to tell me was by barging in here?"

Denise's eyes watered, but she held her ground. "I didn't know how else to reach you! I needed to tell you, and I didn't think you'd pick up the phone if I called again."

Oliver stared at her, his mind still reeling from the shock. "How do I know it's mine?" he asked, his voice cold now, laced with skepticism. "We broke up two months ago, Denise. How can you be sure?"

Denise's face tightened, the emotion of the moment catching up with her. "I haven't been with anyone else since you, Oliver. I'm certain it's yours."

Oliver rubbed his temples, pacing the room in frustration. This couldn't be happening. He had moved on, he was happy with Paris, and now Denise had dropped this bombshell out of nowhere. He wanted to believe that there had to be some mistake, that this wasn't his problem to deal with—but if what Denise was saying was true, he couldn't ignore it.

"Have you seen a doctor yet?" Oliver asked, his voice clipped, trying to remain calm.

Denise nodded. "I have. I'm about eight weeks along."

Oliver's mind raced. Eight weeks? That would have been right around the time he moved back to Mexico—right around the time they ended things. He stopped pacing, his heart heavy with a mix of disbelief and anger. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I wasn't sure how to, infact I just found out last week the reason I came here to surprise you." Denise admitted, her voice softening. "but when I guess its serious between you and her."

Oliver felt his chest tighten as thoughts of Paris flooded his mind. He had to talk to her, explain, but right now all he could feel was the weight of the situation crashing down on him.