Gloria's Forever (Gloria Book 3) (5 page)

“Yes,” I said, stupid me not knowing if I had. In my freaked out state, one-word answers were the most I could muster. Another loud wince did nothing to assuage the thud in my heart, lump in my throat, or flutters in my stomach. I was a fucking train wreck.

“C’mon. Lie down,” I urged.

“No, baby,” she gritted. “I need my cell phone. I need to make some calls.”

“Angel, just relax. I’ll handle everything once we get you checked in.”

She jerked. “Oh, Jaime!”

These two words were not the cries of a woman having a mega orgasm but rather those of one in mega pain.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” Desperation pierced my voice.

“Just hold me,” she repeated.

She was still seated on my lap, her knees bent upward on the backseat. I tightened my grip around her as she sunk deeper into me, resting her head against my chest and holding my hand. Her long platinum braid cascaded over her shoulders and curled over her tummy. With my free hand, I stroked her scalp, relishing as always the pure-silk of her lustrous hair.

Ty expertly maneuvered the car, making great time and running every red light. Now at Wilshire and Roberston, we weren’t far from Cedars. Tense silence prevailed, interrupted only by Gloria’s gasps and winces. They seemed to be coming more frequently. With each contraction, she squeezed my hand harder.

The silence was fucking killing me. A terrifying avalanche of worries bombarded my brain. What if we didn’t get to the hospital soon enough? Was there going to be something wrong with the babies? Was something bad going to happen to Gloria? Why was this happening? Guilt lanced through me. Maybe it was all my fault…I mean, fucking her this morning. I told her I didn’t want to fuck her anymore with the babies’ arrival so close, but she’d insisted, telling me that her doctor said it was perfectly fine to have sex right up to the last minute. Damn it! Why didn’t I trust my instincts? If something happened to Gloria or the babies—or both!—I’d never forgive myself. Never!

Gloria gazed up at me. I was chewing my lip. She sensed my distress. “You okay, baby?” Despite her pain, there was deep concern in her voice. Oh my angel! How I loved her!

I nodded and dusted her chin with the tip of her braid. “Yeah.” Gloria and I had promised in our wedding vows never to keep secrets from one another. Well, I had just broken mine. I was the furthest thing away from all right I’d ever been. I was full of remorse and fucking scared shitless. But I couldn’t let Gloria know this. I needed to be strong…strong for her.
Everything’s going to be okay
, I tried telling myself. Except I wasn’t falling for it. Not one fucking bit.

A sudden halt and another loud screech—this one from Gloria—catapulted me into the moment. Gloria’s body jolted, and I felt her nails dig into my hand. I pressed my lips against her head. Both to comfort her and keep my foul mouth shut.

“Oh, God,” she shrieked as yet another contraction assaulted her. Tears were now leaking out of the corners of her eyes. The contractions were intensifying and coming more frequently.

Fuck.
“Angel, hang in there. Remember what your yoga instructor told you. Breathe. We’re almost there.”

Except we weren’t moving. We were at the intersection of Robertson and Beverly Boulevard. The entrance to the hospital was just around the corner off Beverly.

“What the fuck is going on?” I called out to Ty, my voice frantic. I looked out the window. Ahead of us was a police barricade. Dozens of policemen were manning it as a swarm of police cars and black Escalades zipped down Beverly.

Ty put on a headset. “I’m finding out from my network.” He turned to face us. “The President is in town. He and his entourage are heading up Beverly Boulevard.”

I slapped my forehead. “Fucking-A!” I had nothing against the President, but why today of all fucking days had he chosen to come to LA? Stressed out as I was, I just didn’t need this cluster fuck.

Gloria clapped her hands against her belly and let out another agonizing scream. Her pained eyes searched mine. “What are we go—?”

She stopped mid-sentence. Without warning, a sudden gush of warm liquid saturated the fabric of my jeans. My first thought—oh no, Gloria’s bleeding!

She looked at me with a mixture of shock and terror in her duo-colored eyes. All color had drained from her face; she was as pale as a ghost. “Baby, I think my water just broke.”

Shit. This was definitely not in that
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
book. Maybe I should have read
What Not to Expect When You’re Expecting.

My heart was racing and so was my mind. There was only one option. Fuck. This. Shit.

“Tyrone, open the passenger door!”

Wordlessly, he jumped out of the car and yanked open the back door. With Gloria in my arms, I scooted out of the Rover.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Tyrone’s eyes were frozen wide open.

“Ty, you go back to Gloria’s condo and gather her things. Tilda will help you. And be sure to bring the little red box that’s in my night table drawer.”

“Yes, sir.” Before he could blink, I was running up the street with Gloria in my arms, now sobbing, and our babies on their way. I’m sure onlookers must have thought I was crazy, but I didn’t give a flying fuck. All that mattered was getting Gloria to the hospital before she gave birth.

“Sir, you can’t cross the street right now,” said a staunch, ruddy-faced policeman as I approached the barricade. I was breathing heavily, half from running with the weight of Gloria, half from my state of panic.

“I have to!” I begged, my voice desperate. “My wife is about to give birth.”

The officer shot a quick look at Gloria.

“We’re having twins.” A faint smile curled on her luscious lips. And then she grimaced as another contraction hit her.

The cop quirked a lopsided smile. “Me and my wife have twins. Follow me.”

Was he going to escort us to the hospital by foot or take us in his police car?

The answer was: neither. Gloria let out an ear-piercing shriek and shook in my arms. Every muscle in my body clenched.

“Angel, what’s the matter?”

She clenched her teeth. “I can feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“The babies. They’re coming. Now.”

My heart almost stopped. Holy fucking shit. Right here? Right now?
Tell me this wasn’t
happening.

“Sir, have you ever delivered a baby?” asked the officer.

“No!” Was he out of his fucking mind?

“Well, you’re about to.”

Jaime

C
lad only in my oversized white shirt that at least shielded her with a modicum of modesty, Gloria was spread out on the pavement, seated on my jacket. We had set her up outside a storefront so she could lean against the building. Her bare legs were steepled wide, and she was screaming at the top of her lungs in god-awful pain. A small crowd of pedestrians had gathered around us, more interested in watching Gloria give birth than the President drive by. A couple of good Samaritans had volunteered to get some hot water and clean towels from the nearby Starbucks at the officer’s request. With Cedars so nearby, why couldn’t one of them be a doctor?

Gloria’s frantic screams got louder.

“Relax, baby. Breathe.” I don’t know how I managed to get the words out. I was a total basket case. A twisted bundle of nerves.

Harsh pants spilled from her lips. Blood was pouring out between her legs. Fuck. I’d never seen so much blood before. Not even with my father’s fatal self-inflicted gunshot to his chest. Was this normal? I hoped this cop knew what he was fucking doing because I sure as hell didn’t.

“Push!” he told Gloria.

“I’m trying!” she sobbed out. Tears poured down her face and mingled with beads of sweat clustered on her cheekbones. Her manicured hands pressed into the cement, helping to anchor her.

Her misery was eating me alive. This was certainly not how we’d planned it. We had actually scheduled a date for Gloria to be induced. Hence, it was more along the lines of a leisurely breakfast, packing an overnight bag, and checking her into the luxurious suite I’d booked on Cedar’s exclusive eighth floor—reserved for Hollywood celebrities and power moguls. And then having a nice calm delivery with an epidural. Followed by selfies. Gloria, me, the babies in our arms. Smiling. Happily ever after.

But now, happily ever after was an elusive dream. “Officer, can’t we get her to the hospital?” I had to shout out to him to make myself heard above Gloria’s frantic screams.

“Push, ma’am,” he said again before answering my question. “Someone on the force has called for an ambulance, but it’s not going to be easy crossing the barricade.”

“Can’t you tell them my wife might die?”

Sheer terror flickered in Gloria’s eyes. Her lower lip quivered. “I-I’m going to die?”

Jesus fucking Christ. Why did I say that? Why? Because I was totally losing my mind. And that better be all I was losing. A terrifying afterthought.

Full of remorse, I gently held Gloria in my arms. “No, my beautiful angel. You’re not going to die. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re going to be a mommy. And I’m going to be a daddy.”

Seriously, if anyone was going to die, it was me. I was close to having a heart attack. She shot me a faint smile before screaming out in agony yet again.

“Push!” repeated the officer.

Gloria grunted, her face turning as red as the soles of her Louboutins. “I’m trying.”

I let her squeeze my hand. Her clammy grip was forceful. Clawing me with her long nails, she pushed again to no avail. Panic gripped me by the balls.

“Why won’t the babies come out?” my wife cried as blood pooled on the lining of my jacket. She was as debilitated as she was terrified.

“You need to relax,” responded the officer. He turned to me.

“Sir, can you do something to distract her? Maybe entertain her?”

What did he want me to do? Perform a song and dance number? Do a magic trick—abracadabra, make our babies magically appear? Recite nursery rhymes—which I actually could do because I’d memorized all of them over the last eight months?

“You know her. She’s your wife,” murmured the cop, his patience wearing thin.

Yeah, I knew what she liked for sure. Caviar.
Castle
. Handcuffs. And Chanel. But the only thing that ever distracted by beautiful control-freak wife was my big fucking dick. I seriously contemplated freeing it from my jeans and letting her hold on to it as she pushed. But the thought of being arrested for indecent exposure stopped me. Damn it.
Think, Zander, think.

Gloria’s eyes grew wide as my mind raced. “Jaime, please don’t leave me. I need you!”

I gripped her hand and stroked her damp hair. “Angel, trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

Gloria

A
nother razor-sharp contraction attacked me. I’d been shot once in the chest—the unforgettable pain excruciating—but nothing compared to the white-hot pain of the contractions I was experiencing now. At least with Boris’s gunshot, I’d passed out, but these contractions were like sharp knives jabbing at my core, and each brutal stab was more agonizing than the one before. They were coming faster and faster, just mere seconds apart.

The only thing that kept me from falling apart was Jaime’s hand.
My
lifeline.

“Don’t leave me,” I pleaded again, squeezing it hard.

“Angel, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, angel with my heart, my body, and my soul.”

“I love you too,” I whispered before another excruciating push.

Another person—an attractive, well-dressed, middle-aged woman joined us. She was carrying a large Chanel shopping bag. She squatted down beside me and smoothed my hair.

“I work down the street at Chanel; I’m the new manager. When one of my customers told me about what was happening, I grabbed two cashmere shawls…they’re brand new, right out of the stock room…you can use them to wrap up the babies.” She lifted the two shawls—one pale pink, the other pale blue—out of the bag and placed them on her lap.