The door of the en-suite stands open. She's sitting on the floor by the lavatory, shaking and sobbing.
"Charlotte?"
Through great heaving sobs, she can't speak. Instead, raising a tear-streaked face to mine, she points into the lavatory bowl.
There in the water, blood swirls around what, if I didn't know better, I would take to be a blood clot. I don't need to look closer...
The bedroom door slams open behind me, Michael charging in, Klempner right behind him. Both skid to a halt at the bathroom door.
What do I say? I nod Michael to the small bloody tragedy bobbing in the water. He looks, inhales. His eyes squeeze closed.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." Charlotte chokes the words out from between the sobs...
Michael crouches beside her, takes her in his arms. "Babe, it's not your fault. It happens. It just does. All the time."
"I lost your baby. Our baby." Racked with weeping, she raises swollen eyes. "It was your baby and you wanted it so much and I lost it."