Page 132 of Ruthless Claim

Three things I can hear. The elevator down the hall. The city below. The⁠—

I slide down the door.

I don’t mean to. My legs just stop doing their job and I’m on the floor with my back against the door and my knees pulled up. I press both hands over my mouth and I breathe and I breathe and I do not cry and I do not cry and I do not⁠—

A sound comes out of me.

I don’t recognize it as mine at first. It comes from somewhere I don’t usually let anything come from, then the dam breaks and I’m crying for real.

The worst part is I can’t stop it.

Heavy sobs shake my chest as I curl up against the door and wail.

I can’t be alone right now, but who do I call? Cillian isn’t allowed here, my mother is out of the question and⁠—

Emma.

I reach for my phone. My hands are shaking badly enough that I drop it once. I find Emma’s name and press call.

It rings twice.

“Howdy bestie,” Emma says cheerfully. From the background I can hear Seraphina cooing and the sounds of a baby sucking on something filling the receiver. Oh fuck me, this was a horrible idea.

I open my mouth to apologize and tell her I’ll call her later, but what comes out is not a word.

“Val.” Her voice changes completely and she sounds alarmed. “Valentina. What happened? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”

“No,” I manage through tears, snot sliding down my face. I wipe it away with my sleeve. “Not—the baby’s fine, I’m—” My voice breaks in the middle of me saying “fine.” “Emma, I’m so sorry to ask you of this, but I need you to come over. Something happened and I—I can’t—” I press my hand over my mouth again but another sob breaks through. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m⁠—”

“Stop apologizing.” Emma says sharply. “Talk to me.” I hear movement in the background, the grumpy noises of a baby. “Tell me what happened,” she demands.

So I try. Between the crying I try to tell her. Claire at the door. Finn. Cillian walking in. Get out. Claire’s mask coming off and the first one, a boy, Finn was first, and the Plaza and the door closing again and me on the floor.

Emma curses so colorfully it almost makes me laugh. “Holy shit,” Emma breathes. “Okay. I’m coming right now. I’m putting Seraphina in the car. I’m coming.”

Guilt suddenly seizes me. Why am I so selfish? She’s going to drag her little baby over to me just because I’m having an emotional breakdown. “No, Em. You don’t have to. I’ll be fine⁠—”

“Shut up,” Emma says firmly. “I’m already putting my shoes on. Stop talking and let me come.”

I stop talking.

I stay on the floor.

I don’t know how long I stay there for. Long enough that the crying does eventually run out because I’ve run out of tears. What’s left is that feeling like I’ve just been sent through the wringer. My eyes are puffy and my nose is stuffed. I sniffle then cough.

By the time I manage to get up, Emma’s two-tap knock comes at the door. I open it within seconds.

Emma stands there, red hair windswept but her green eyes alight with worry. She’s pushing a stroller and has a bag from the bakery on 67th loped around one of the handles. She takes one look at my face and her face crumples.

“Oh, Val,” she says sadly as she puts her arms around me. I lean into her and let myself be held. “I’ve got you,” she tells me.

Eventually, we make our way into the sitting room, Emma lifting Seraphina out.

Seraphina coos, dark blue eyes looking around curiously.

Emma keeps her arm around me as she steers me into a sofa and deposits the baby into my arms.

I immediately gather my niece close and breathe in her intoxicating baby scent, brushing a kiss on her round cheek.