At some point, someone, probably Aspen, carried me to my room and set me in my own bed. A nurse also appeared and set up my IV in my bedroom. I was still receiving pain meds through it. It was hours before I saw Maxon again.
He knocked very lightly on my door and gently poked his head through, waiting for permission to come in. That was new. When I nodded he came in and sat on the edge of my bed. "How are you?" he asked, studying me.
"I'm fine," I muttered. Why was this so awkward? This was my husband inches away from me. The man I was going to have a baby with.
Maxon must've seen the devastation that ripped through me on my face because he grabbed my hand and pulled himself up next to me. "America, I'm so sorry," he said, staring at my hand.
"We were supposed to have a baby," I whispered. I wasn't even sure he heard me. But then I saw the tear that fell from his face.
"I know," Maxon whispered, matching my tone. "I know." He wrapped himself around me and I snuggled into his chest. His breath rattled as it stirred my hair.
"What do we do now?" I asked into his shirt, my own breathing becoming a little forced.
"I guess we do what we did before you were pregnant." He started drawing circles on my back.
"I'm not sure I even remember what that was."
Maxon didn't say anything, but I noticed his chest rise and fall in a more steady rhythm. I peeked my head up from his chest and realized he'd fallen asleep holding me. I wonder if he's had as hard of a time sleeping as I have.
Soon, my eyes closed and my breathing evened too.
I woke up the next morning, and, surprisingly, Maxon was still asleep with his arm stretched across my waist. Apparently the country was giving him the morning to sleep in a bit.
Not too long though, of course. Right then a series of raps came from the door. It caused Maxon to move, but only enough to bury his face further into the pillow. I took this as a sign that it was on me to call, "Come in."
A young boy, maybe 16, entered with a cumbersome stack of papers for Maxon and newspaper for me. I've taken to reading them lately. A small voice in my head makes remarks while I read them and it sure sounds a lot like Celeste.
On today's edition, a stock photo of Maxon and I from our wedding stares at me from the front page. The headline reads "And Two Become Three, The Royal Couple is Expecting an Heir."
News pertaining to Maxon and I always traveled fast. Although, apparently, not fast enough for them to have the latest.
I dropped the paper on the bed and sank back into the sheets. I wasn't completely aware of the rapid rate at which my breathing was speeding up, but Maxon pulled himself up to look at me. He caught my panicked eyes locked on the newspaper and looked himself. "Aww, America-"
"They don't know Maxon," I said, cutting him off. "They're expecting a baby and they don't know I lost it." The tears were threatening to overcome me and Maxon pulled me to him. I looked down and said into his shirt, "I don't want them to know. Can't any part of our lives just be ours?"
"No," he said simply. That got a sad chuckle out of me. "We need to tell them. We need to tell on the Report tonight." No. Can't I have one day to grieve on my own?
I opened my mouth to protest immediately, "No! It's none of their business! It was my child! I lost it! I'm the one who failed-" my rush of words cut off as a sob closed my throat and made me shake. I can't do this. I can't be Queen anymore. I failed at the country's simple expectation that I have a baby to take the throne when Maxon is gone or retires. Women have babies all the time. Shouldn't the queen be able to? I knew it. I knew from the beginning of the Selection I wasn't cut out for this. Why had I agreed to do something I knew I was going to be no good at?
Maxon gripped my face and pulled me out of my thoughts. His beautiful eyes bored into mine, calling me back to him. Oh yeah, that's why. "America, it was my baby too. Stop calling it YOUR child. And you think you failed? You were shot, darling. I'm the one who wasn't there when you needed me. I couldn't protect you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeated against my hair.
I wanted to stay like that forever. Both of us breathing each other in, trying to ease the other's despair.
"We have to tell the country," Maxon whispered.
"I know," I said pulling together some courage. "I'll tell them."
Maxon pulled back to look at me. "Are you sure? No one would blame you if said you couldn't do it."
"I can do it. Can you be by my side, though?"
"Always," he said.
I can do this. I've been on the Report dozens of times.
Boy, was I wrong.