Gloria's Forever (Gloria Book 3) (8 page)

“Jaime,” he breathed into the phone. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with Gloria?”

I inhaled a gulp of air. How was I going to break the news to him? Finally, I settled on the truth. “It’s not good.”

“What do you mean?” Despair underscored his voice.

“The babies, I think, are fine. But Gloria—” My voice choked up.

“What about Gloria?” His voice rose an octave. He loved her as much as I did.

“She’s in surgery. She had a hemorrhage.”

“Fuck. I’m coming over. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” His voice was instantly tearful.

“Pray for her, Kev.” Tears dripped from my voice too.

“I am.”

*

Two long hours later, Gloria was out of surgery and recovery, and now in a small room on Cedars’s intensive care floor. She was resting in a bed, unconscious, still hooked up to a myriad of IVs and monitors. At least the oxygen mask was off her face, and I could see it in its full glory. Her sensuous full lips were slightly parted, and soft shallow breaths emanated from them. Her chest rhythmically rose and fell, her long platinum braid curling around her ravishing breasts. A serene paleness washed over her. My Gloria looked like an angel. Too much like one.

Tyrone had stopped by earlier with her things along with the little box I’d asked him to bring along. The word fear did not exist for an imposing man like Ty who’d grown up a fighter on the tough streets of South Central. But at the sight of Gloria so pale and frail, fear flickered in the whites of his eyes.

“Is she going to be okay, Mr. Z?” His small, unsteady voice was a sharp contrast to his big, muscular six-foot five physique.

“Yeah,” I lied. I just fucking didn’t know. “Thanks for bringing all her things.”

“No problem, sir.”

In addition to her beauty and grooming necessities, he’d brought along several lacy negligees and teddies from her collection that Gloria’s housekeeper had packed in a small pink overnight bag. One thing, I could count on when—or should I say, if—Gloria woke up, she sure as hell wouldn’t want to be seen in a potato sack hospital gown. As the founder and head of Gloria’s Secret, the largest lingerie emporium in the world, my angel always looked the part of the erotic fantasies she sold. She had even starred in a commercial with me that I’d created for her new BDSM-inspired line, which had brought her company to new heights. The sensuous ad flashed into my head as I watched Gloria sleep and breathe. I prayed she’d be in my arms once again. And live to be the mother of our children.

I urged hard-working, emotionally drained Ty to take the rest of the day off. A man of faith, he told me he was going to his church to pray. I thanked him. That’s all anyone could do at this point. A half-hour after his departure, Kevin showed up, looking like death warmed over. In his hands was an extravagant arrangement of fragrant white lilies and roses, Gloria’s favorite flowers. He set the large crystal vase on the bureau right next to the small gift-wrapped box I’d asked Ty to bring.

“How is she doing?” he asked anxiously, slumping into an armchair next to mine beside Gloria’s bed. I brushed a few strands of loose hair off Gloria’s forehead. Her skin felt feverish beneath my fingertips. Worry ate at me.

I wish I could tell him fan-fucking-tastic, but his favorite word was a far cry from the truth. I drew in a breath and told him about Gloria’s tenuous situation. “The next twenty-four hours are going to be crucial. There was a substantial tear in her uterus, and she lost a lot of blood. They had to give her a partial hysterectomy.” My voice faltering, I continued on. The fact that Gloria might not be able to bear more children was not important to me. What terrified me was the possibility of a fatal complication. My beloved angel’s life hung in the air I breathed.

Kevin grasped my hand. His eyes watered. “Gloria’s a fighter. She’s kicked death out the door before.”

At the word death, every muscle in my body clenched. But Kevin was right. My feisty beauty was a fighter. She had once survived Boris Borofksy’s near fatal gunshot. I glanced down at the scar above her heart that peeked out from her hospital gown. A vivid reminder that Gloria controlled her destiny. If she had the will to live, she would. I had to believe that. I’d given her my heart and now I’d given her my blood. She had all of me. If I lost her, I would die too.

Changing the subject, I asked Kevin if he’d seen the babies. He shook his head and glanced down at his Mickey Mouse watch.

“Fuck. I have to get going. Gotta head over to Greystone and set up tonight’s party. Shit. I don’t want to leave.”

I squeezed his hand. “Gloria would want you to do your job. Just keep her condition under wraps.”

His lips pressed thin, he nodded. As Gloria’s trusted head of publicity, Kevin understood the impact of negative publicity—of news getting out that wouldn’t serve the company well. No one needed to know the precarious condition of Gloria Long Zander. And it would moreover hamper the spirit of the much anticipated, newsworthy event. With all the celebrities attending, I was sure Gloria wouldn’t be missed. If it was an issue, I’d work with Kevin in the morning to spin a story.

I thanked him for the beautiful, thoughtful flowers and then asked him to do me a favor. “Kev, could you tell Ray to cancel all my meetings for tomorrow.” Ray was my right-hand man and talented protégé. Kevin and Ray had fallen in love just like Gloria and me. We adored them both.

“Sure.” Slowly, he rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving Gloria. His Glorious.

And then he flipped around, and facing me, totally broke down. Loud sobs wracked his body. And tears stormed his face. Standing up, I did something I’d never done with another man before—not even my late father. I held him in my arms and let him cry on my shoulders. He had become like a brother to me too.

“Hang in there, man,” I said softly. He nodded against me, tears staining my white tee.

“Before you head out, stop off and see the babies. They’re beautiful. It’ll cheer you up.”

“Do you think they can call me Uncle Kev?” he sniffled, gazing up at me with his soaked, long-lashed hazel eyes. Kevin was going to be Paulette and Payton’s godfather.

For the first time in hours, I smiled and a little laugh gathered in the base of my throat. “Yeah. That would be good. And they can call Ray, Auntie Ray.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” A small smile curled on his lips too.

He broke away, hugging me one more time before he left.

“Hang in there. And call me with any news. Promise?”

I nodded. “Promise.”

Kevin

G
loria didn’t know it, but I was a fucking crybaby. I loved her more than life itself. We were connected. Almost one. If something happened to her, something happened to me. If she died, I died. That’s the way we were.

Seeing her hooked up to all those tubes and monitors, teetering between life and death, had gutted me. Inside I was falling apart. I knew what her husband Jaime was going through. Glorious and I had been together through thick and thin forever and now forever vacillated in thin air.

Cedar’s Neonatal Intensive Care Unit was on the fourth floor of the Saperstein Tower. I stepped into the elevator with a petite older couple who were holding hands. They looked Latino. Distress was etched on their faces and the swarthy woman’s dark eyes were as bloodshot as mine. She’d obviously been crying. Perhaps, they’d lost a loved one. But when they pushed the button of the neonatal care floor, I knew they were headed to the same destination as me. And then the woman burst into a round of tears and cried out, “
Dios mío!”
Her husband comforted her and then turned to me.

“
Señor,
forgive my wife.
Por favor
. We may lose our first grandchild. He was born with a heart defect.” Though his saddened voice was accented, he spoke perfect English.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied, my voice shaky. The elevator arrived at our designated floor, saving me from having to say more. Truthfully, I didn’t know what to say. The doors parted, and I let the despondent couple exit first. I followed behind them.

The NICU was a state-of-the art facility with forty-five portable beds in four areas, providing varying levels of care depending if the infant was critically ill, premature, or just under close observation. While the couple was shown to one area, I was escorted to another where newborns were under close observation.

“I’m Payton and Paulette Zander’s godfather,” I told the jovial black nurse whose name was Kashunna.

A wide smile flashed on her face. “Sugar, let me tell you they’re the most beautiful babies I’ve ever seen. And trust me, I’ve seen many.”

My spirits brightened as she led me to the observation window. “Are they doing okay?” Anxiousness crept into my voice.

“They’re doing amazing. And they’re such a good size, too, given they were born a month early. Both a little over four pounds.”

Four pounds?
Ray’s sister’s baby was born at seven and he was
so
tiny.

“Here we are,” said the nurse as we approached the window.

I put my face against the glass and my spirits sunk again. About a dozen tiny babies in their little portable beds were hooked up to IVs and monitors just like Gloria.

“But I thought you said they were okay. Why do they have so many gizmos attached to them?”

“It’s normal. We’re just monitoring them.”

She sounded sincere, so I believed her. “Which ones are Payton and Paulette?”

“I’m going to show you.”

Wait a sec. What was she saying?

I watched as she slipped on a surgical mask and a pair of latex gloves. “Now, don’t you move. I’ll be right back.”

In a blink, she was inside the observation room, conferring with another nurse. Heading over to a counter, she opened a drawer and slipped a few things into the pocket of her pink smock. Her back was turned to me so I wasn’t sure what they were. She then pivoted and ambled back to the door. I cranked my head as she stepped outside the observation room.

“I’m baa-ack,” she crooned.

“I thought you were going to show me the Zander babies.”

She winked. “Now, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the expression, patience has its virtues?”

I had, but patience was definitely not one of my virtues. And it had fucked me up more than once in my life. Acting impulsively had almost cost me my life—and Gloria’s.

Forcing the beginnings of dark thoughts to the back of my mind, I watched as Kashunna dipped her hand into a deep pocket and pulled out a mask and pair of gloves identical to hers. She handed them to me.

“Just put these on and follow me.”

I hastily donned the items.

A big, pearly white smile flashed on Kashunna’s face. “Sugar, you look good in anything. Are you a model or something?”

Beneath my mask, I couldn’t help grinning. “No, I do PR for Gloria’s Secret.”

“Get out! I love that store!”

My smile widened. I promised I would send her a gift certificate.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” She laughed as I followed my new best friend through the door to the observation room.

My first instinct was to put my fingers in my ears. Or ask for earplugs. I wasn’t prepared for the deafening chorus of wailing babies. I’d never been inside a nursery before and had no experience with babies. Ray’s sister, Carrie, lived in Wisconsin. I’d yet to meet her and his six-month-old nephew, Conner. We’d only done FaceTime.

“Is it always like this in here?” I asked anxiously.

“Honey, this is nothing. Wait till they all get hungry.”

My eyes took in all the tiny screaming babies, their faces as red as tomatoes. I took hesitant steps, my nerves getting to me, and followed bouncy Kashunna down a long row of see-thru baby-sized portable beds. She stopped at the last two.

“Here they are, Uncle Kevin.”

My heart suddenly melted like a bar of chocolate in the heat. Gloria’s glorious babies! Paulette and Payton. Oh my fucking God. They were so teeny-weeny but so beyond adorable. And neither was wailing. Both in the tiniest of diapers, one was clad in a pink knit cap, the other in a powder blue one. My little fashion statements. Paulette’s platinum hair peeked out from her cap. With her full ruby lips and wide-set eyes, she was the spitting image of Gloria, and Payton already looked a lot like Jaime. Awed, I waved at them. “Hi, cutie pies. I’m Uncle Kev, your godfather,” I said aloud and I swear they heard me. Yawning, their eyes made contact with mine. They had bonded with me.