It had absolutely everything to do with what was waiting for them at that clinic.

She pressed her free hand flush over her belly, her fingers digging slightly into the fabric of the oversized sweatshirt, as the room seemed to physically tilt around her.

Her knees felt weak, like water.

“Ben,” she said, her voice dropping to a register barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of impending devastation.

“What happens today?”

He took another step forward, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

He opened his mouth, his lips parting to finally release the truth he had been carrying alone.

Then, his phone rang again.

The shrill, electronic chime sliced through the heavy silence of the dining room like a knife.

Ben flinched violently, his hand automatically dropping to his pocket.

But he was too slow.

In his manic state earlier, he had left the phone sitting face-up on the edge of the dining table, right next to where his jacket had been.

The screen lit up, bright and demanding, illuminating the shadowed room.

This time, Erin was close enough to see the screen before he could snatch it away or lock the display.

The caller ID didn’t show a random number.

It didn’t show a generic name.

It showed the name of the high-risk maternity clinic.

And as Erin dragged her terrified eyes away from the glowing screen and looked back up at her husband, the sheer, crushing look of defeat and terror on Ben’s face told her everything she needed to know.

He already knew exactly why they were calling.