Destined to Love (Starting Over Trilogy Book 3) (9 page)

“We have time, there isn’t any hurry.”
 

“I’ll be out of work soon, so I am in a bit of a hurry,” I say, finishing my juice.
 

“Beauty, you worry too much,” he says and winks at me.

My cramping comes and goes throughout the day and the bleeding increases. It’s not alarming so I don’t say anything.
Just as Mason has promised, we stay in bed and eat, sleep, watch movies, and shop. We bought lamps and rugs and ordered some textiles and fabric samples, all online. He called his sister and Dad and told them he isn’t able to go to the condo to move his things today. His sister was more upset than I expected. She said she wanted to get it listed as soon as she could. Mason told her to list it right away and start showing it next week. The showings will be delayed by only a few days. In the meantime he’ll be moving his things out. Mason makes soup and sandwiches for lunch and we eat in bed. He tells me it’s nice staying in bed all day with me and doing nothing. Mason would never let me feel like I am a burden or he would rather be someplace else doing anything else. I have no idea what will happen with this pregnancy, but I do know that I am going to do everything I can to make him happy. I am so in love with him; all I want to do is marry him and be his.

After dinner and another movie, I doze off to sleep. I wake up to severe cramping. I feel wetness between my legs. I already know without looking. I yell for Mason because he isn’t in bed with me. It is only a matter of seconds before he is by my side. I lie in a fetal position unable to acknowledge him in the room. He kneels down beside me.

“Beauty, are you cramping?”
 

“I’m bleeding.” I can barely say the words through the pain.
 

Mason lifts the covers without saying anything. He lowers the covers and asks, “How bad is your pain?”
 

I can’t say anything. I just rock back and forth. “We have to go to the hospital — just give me one minute.” He doesn’t wait for me to answer him before he walks away.

Mason makes a phone call, walks into the bathroom, and then digs into my dresser. He walks over to me and removes the covers. I am suddenly chilled. I keep my eyes closed, thinking it somehow helps with the pain.
 

“Angel, we need to get you cleaned up and to the hospital. Can you walk to the bathroom?”

I shake my head and ball into a fetal position even more. The pain is excruciating. Mason wraps his arms under my legs and back and lifts me up while saying, “Hold on.”
 

He carries me into the bathroom and removes my blood-soaked panties. I sit on the toilet and he hands me a soapy washcloth. I bend over to wipe the wetness from my body and I am in shock at the amount of blood. Mason throws the washcloth in a trash bag, along with my panties, and hands me another soapy washcloth. Once I am cleaned up, he helps me get dressed and carries me to my SUV. He already has a towel on the seat and fastens my seat belt over me. He makes a phone call and tells someone we are on our way.
 

“Don’t tell anyone.”
 

“I won’t, it was your doctor.”
 

“Ok, are we almost there?” I grimace.

“Right around the corner, just a few more minutes. Hang on, Beauty.”
 

Mason’s phone rings and he answers it quickly. He says only a few words before hanging up.

“The hospital is expecting you. We won’t have to wait in the reception area. Your doctor is also there waiting on you. She was already there seeing another patient when I called her.”
 

“Oh, God, I think I’m bleeding through,” I say, trying to gather the towel beneath me to thicken it.

We pull up at the hospital and Mason doesn’t park. He pulls up along the curb near the E.R. entrance. Hospital staff are already waiting with a gurney and a wheelchair. I close my eyes tightly to try to ease the pain. Mason tells me to hang on and then I hear the car door close. He picks me up and lays me on the gurney. They tell Mason he needs to park the car and that he can’t leave it there blocking the entrance. I hear Mason mumble something before I am taken inside. The doctor quickly examines me and Mason is by my side. He holds my hand and whispers in my ear how much he loves me.

Mason
 

I sit beside Angel in the recovery room. She lost the baby and has just had a D&C — dilation and curettage — done. It’s a simple procedure where they go in and clean out her cervix. They remove anything that wasn’t expelled through the miscarriage. I hold Angel’s hand as she sleeps; I stroke her knuckles but she doesn’t move.

I haven’t cried or mourned the loss. I know it was God’s will. I also know the baby would have been a reminder of Jim’s attack. I would have loved that baby
no matter what, but I also know that night would always be in the back of my head. I will never admit that or say it aloud. I am only human, and my feelings of hatred for Jim go very deep. I would do anything in my power to protect Angel.

She moans in her sleep and I stroke her hair and cheek. I used to do that to calm her, but I think I do it now because touching her calms me. It scares me, the effect this girl has on me. I would do anything for her. I sit beside her and just look at her. She didn’t want me to call anyone today. She is such a private person. Everything she does she wants only a few people around. Only the few family members and the few friends she has will be at our wedding. Our wedding will have only about a dozen people there. Small and intimate, as she says. What she doesn’t know is I am going to give her the wedding of her dreams. It will be small, but it will also be amazing. I plan on marrying only once in my life, and it will be to Angel. I am planning on going all out with the wedding and a honeymoon to match. She deserves to be treated like a princess. I haven’t asked Brea to help, but I did ask Sara to help me. Brea is busy with her own wedding and preparing for the birth of their baby.

Angel moves and when I look at her, she is already awake.
 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she croaks.
 

I offer her a sip of water and she takes it.
 

“Small sips,” I say, and she nods.

“Did I lose the baby?”
 

“I’m sorry, Angel,” I say, kissing her hand.
 

“Can I go home?”
 

“I don’t know if you can go home tonight or tomorrow. Your doctor will be in very soon.”
 

“I want to go home.”
 

I lean in and kiss her. “I’ll ask her when she comes in.”
 

“No, tell her I’m going home. I don’t want to be here all night.”
 

At that time the doctor walks in. “I heard that, Angel.”
 

We all smile at the doctor’s comment. Angel looks a little embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I want to go home.”
 

“Let me check you out first, then we’ll talk about sending you home.”
 

I stroke Angel’s knuckles before I stand to let her know it’s all right. The doctor checks her chart, her vital signs, and Angel’s pain level, and then she shines a flashlight in her eyes and in her mouth.

“What are your plans for the next couple days?”
 

Angel clears her throat and says, “I have work and I have some books to return to the library.”
 

Angel looks over at me and I shake my head.
 

“I mean, I’m going to stay home and rest.”
 

The doctor looks over at me and smiles. “Mason, your girlfriend has spunk.”
 

“Oh, you have no idea,” I say.

I look over at Angel and she has her eyes closed. I know by now that the pain meds always make her groggy. “If I give you my word that she’ll take it easy for the next few days, can I take her home? Angel has had a rough time the last few months.”
 

“I understand that. I think she’ll be fine to go home tonight. Bed rest for one day and she has to take it easy for 72 hours. “What kind of work does she do?”
 

“She an agent for an insurance company.”
 

“She’ll be fine returning to work on Tuesday. She’ll still have some cramping and bleeding, but nothing as severe as she had today. I’ll write her a script for pain meds to get her through the next few days.”
 

“Ok, sounds great.”
 

“Just give me a few minutes to get her discharge papers written up. I’ll have my nurse come in and remove her IV and help her to get dressed.”
 

“Thank you.”

The nurse comes in and removes Angel’s IV. They allow Angel to wear her hospital gown home since her other clothes have blood on them. She is still groggy but not as bad as I have seen her in the past. I get her discharge papers and sign for her to be released. Angel tries to listen to the doctor’s instructions but falls asleep. She wakes up and listens again. I will help her remember the instructions, and I know she will follow them without any problems. Angel is the perfect patient. She always wants to do what is right.
 

We go home and Angel and I walk into the bedroom. She opens the top drawer of her dresser and removes two pairs of baby booties. She hold them and strokes them gingerly.

“I see you found the baby socks.”
 

“These baby booties? I got them last week at Babies R Us. I guess we won’t be needing them.”

“You bought those?” Mason asks as he opens his top drawer to reveal two identical pairs. “I bought these shortly after you told me about the pregnancy.”
 

Angel and I place the baby socks on her dresser side by side before going to bed.
 

The week flies by. Angel stays in bed on Monday while I work and I return her books to the library on the way home. I don’t think she needs to be reminded of the miscarriage, even though I know she can’t think of anything else. I called Angel off work with flu-like symptoms on Monday. Sara and Brea didn’t question it. I called Josephine to come over and stay with Angel for the day. Angel wasn’t happy about it, but she didn’t argue with me either.
 

I take her to work and pick her up afterwards the rest of the week; it’s a good routine that works for us. We order take-out for dinner most of the week to keep an easy routine at home. We didn’t tell anyone about the miscarriage; Angel wanted to keep it private. Friday was Angel’s official last day at the insurance company and they had a small going-away party for her. Angel has offered to help out while Brea has the baby and gets married and for other emergencies. Angel trained her replacement, Emma, this week so Monday should be a smooth transition for everyone. The samples came in the mail along with the lamps and rug she ordered, and this weekend I am packing up the condo and the cottage, while Angel decorates her office. She already has a client to meet with next week, so she needs to have her office ready. Dad drew up the papers for Angel to gift the cottage to her aunt and uncle. They received the papers in the mail yesterday and called to thank Angel for such a generous gift. They also told her to take whatever she wanted from the cottage. Angel wants only the spare bedroom furniture that belonged to her mother when she was a child, the shabby-chic china cabinet in the dining room that belonged to her Aunt Rosie, and the shabby-chic desk I gave her when we were broken up. Angel and I went over yesterday to pack up the china in the cabinet. She walked through the cottage picking up pictures and quilts before laying them back down. I know how much her family means to her and she’ll miss this place. I hired someone to come in and clean the cottage once we get what she wants out of there. There is still food even I’m afraid to touch in the refrigerator. We don’t mention or talk about the miscarriage. Madison has appointments to show the condo and she is on my butt
to get my clothes out of the condo in a timely manner. I never should have said anything to her until I was already moved out. Too late now. 

Dad backs the truck up to the garage doors and we get out. The truck is loaded with my things and things from Angel’s cottage. This is our second trip
and
the last load. Madison will be happy now she can get the penthouse on the market. The garage is filling up quickly. I didn’t take anything from the condo except my personal things and some paintings Mom made for me. I did take a few extra things from the cottage for Angel. She wrote me a detailed list of the things she wanted but I added to the list. I brought some framed pictures and two other quilts that were there. The cottage doesn’t have any regular blankets; they are all handmade quilts made by Angel’s grandmother, mother, and aunts.

Angel walks out to the garage with a smile on her face. “Wow, is this the last load?”

“Thankfully it is,” Dad says, getting out of the truck.

“I have a spot already picked out in the dining room for the china cabinet,” Angel says while taking a box from the back seat. Dad looks over at me and smiles. “Do you want to rest before you unload it?”
 

“A water would be nice, first.” I walk to the garage refrigerator and remove two bottles of cold water, and hand my Dad one.