Billionaire Daddy's Virgin

by Bella Love-Wins

  Exhaustion starts to hit me as I return to the waiting area with Erica. It really had been one of those days.

  “Is my dad still around?” I ask Erica.

  She covers her mouth to shorten what starts off as a long yawn. “Yes. He was in Gerald’s room for a while, but went looking for decent coffee. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

  Less than five minutes later, Cherry comes back to wait with us.

  “The doctor’s doing his rounds. He’ll be back in a bit,” she tells us and slumps into the chair beside me for a few minutes. I can’t help pulling her into my arms. There’s too much turmoil going on around us to spend any time hiding that we’re together.

  Cherry gets to her feet a few minutes later. “I’ll be in Dad’s room. Give me a holler if you see the doctor pass by.”

  I head to the men’s room and splash my face with water. Seeing the dark circles under my eyes doesn’t impress me much. No wonder my father’s somewhere around the hospital trying to track down coffee. Before heading back to the waiting area, I stop by Gerald’s room and look inside through the small square viewing window of the stainless steel door. Cherry’s hunched over her father, both her hands around his frail fingers. God, I wish I could comfort her, and take away all that pain.

  I feel a firm, comforting hand rest on my shoulder.

  Dad.

  “Have one,” he says, showing me the tray of four coffee cups in his hand. “You look like crap.”

  “Thanks Dad,” I answer with a smile.

  “How’s it going in there?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Take one for Cherry. She doesn’t look so hot either.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “You’ve got to take better care of your girlfriend,” he says nonchalantly, and waits for me to pick my jaw up from the floor. “What? You think I didn’t know?”

  “I was planning on telling you eventually.”

  “Yeah, like before the next ice age,” he jokes. “Give your old man some credit. I’m old, not blind.” He looks into the room, then back at me. “Someone should take a look at her while we’re here. She hasn’t been herself for weeks. Anyway, I’ve got to get this last cup to Erica. Keep us posted when the doctors give her the update.”

  I shake my head and smile as he walks off. He probably knew all along. All this time, Cherry was thinking we were better off keeping our relationship quiet. It all seems so trivial right now.

  She must sense that I’m there, because her head lifts, and she motions for me to come in.

  I push the door open. “Hey,” I say. “How’s he doing?”

  “I don’t know, but I was talking to him about my mother. I think he squeezed my hand a little.”

  “Really? That’s good, right?”

  “Probably. I mean, I could have imagined the whole thing.”

  “No one would blame you for hoping. It’s been a rough night. Hey, my dad got us some coffee,” I add, holding her cup out.

  She stares at the cup and seems to think about it. As she opens her mouth to reply, I see her hand fly up to cover her lips. “No,” she says, letting out a tiny burp. “I think I had some bad sushi at dinner. Coffee’s probably a bad idea right now, the way my stomach feels.”

  “No worries. I’ll give it to Erica. She looked like she can use more than one cup as a pick-me-up.”

  Turning to leave the room, I almost bump into Dr. Morgan. He gives me a quick nod of recognition and enters the room, pulling out his medical tablet computer from his side pocket.

  “Thanks for coming back, Miss Buchannan,” he addresses her.

  “How’s my father?” she asks, gripping the safety rail at the side of the hospital bed as she gets to her feet. “Can you tell me what happened to trigger calling me back tonight?”

  The doctor walks around and stands beside Cherry. He’s not looking at the patient. His eyes are fixed on Cherry’s face. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?” he asks. “You don’t look too well, Miss Buchannan. If you have a cold or fever, it may be better for us to speak outside.”

  “I’m fine,” she tells him, and I notice the slight tilt of her posture, as though her knees are weak. “Just tired. What’s the update?”

  “I apologize for earlier. We have better news for you. It doesn’t happen very often, but your father’s brain activity has spiked in the last couple of hours. His E.E.G scans had significant improvement. What that means is he’s doing his part. He’s putting up a good fight, and that’s more promising than earlier tonight. We’ll do another scan by morning and keep you updated. In the meantime…” he starts, and pauses, tilting his head to one side as he continues to study her. “There’s a twenty-four-hour urgent care wing for non-emergency health conditions. It’s on the north wing of the first floor. I’d strongly suggest you stop by there while you wait for word on your father.”

  “I told you I’m all right, Doctor,” she tells him.

  Her patience seems to be wearing thin. I see her let go of the bed railing, and as she folds her arms, her upper body sways back at way too sharp an angle. I don’t have time to make it across the room. Dr. Morgan acts fast, though, narrowly catching her around the waist before she drops to the floor.

  “Cherry!” I get to her other side, but she’s not responding. “Help her, Doctor!” I shout. “What’s going on?”

  We place her into the chair, and Dr. Morgan presses the call button for an orderly to bring in a stretcher. We all noticed that Cherry looked pretty run down, but for her to pass out like this? Now? Here?

  “Your friend fainted,” he says as we wait. He pulls the stethoscope off his shoulder, slipping the ear tips in his ear, then presses the bell on Cherry’s chest. “Her breathing’s fine.”

  A male nurse pushes open the door, banging the metal with the rolling gurney. The doctor belts out a never-ending string of tests and diagnostics to perform on her once the nurse gets her to the emergency ward.

  “I’m going with her,” I say, stalking out of the room behind the stretcher.

  I accompany them down the large elevator, staring down at Cherry. I shake my head at the irony of something happening to her, just as we’re finding out that her father is improving. She has no coloring to her face. Her head hangs to one side. Her breathing is so shallow. I wonder when she’ll wake up.

  She fucking has to wake up.

  A female emergency room nurse comes out to the waiting room and calls my name, letting me know that they’ve run some tests on Cherry to determine the cause of her fainting spell. The nurse asks me if I’m Cherry’s husband or significant other. I tell her yes, the latter. She won’t tell me what they found, but she shows me to Cherry’s bed in the tightly packed multi-patient room, and closes the divider curtains behind me.

  Thank fuck Cherry’s awake.

  “Hey,” she says to me.

  I hold the hand she lifts up in my direction, lowering to take her into my arms.

  “You scared the fuck outta me.”

  “Shhh. Language,” she whispers for the benefit of whatever patients and visitors are on the other side of the curtains. “Sorry. I must have been more exhausted than I thought.”

  “I’m just glad you look better. What did they find out from all those tests?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “No idea. I’m still waiting for the emergency doctor to see me.” Cherry looks behind me past my shoulders and clears her throat. “Looks like we’re about to find out.”

  I look around. A middle-aged male doctor pushes the curtains back, eyes fixed on his tablet computer. “Cheryl Yvette Serena Buchannan?” he calls out her full name.

  “That’s me,” Cherry answers.

  The doctor looks at me for a second, and returns his gaze to his screen. “I’m Dr. Fenwick. How are you feeling?”

  “Better, thanks. That hour or so of rest really helped.”

  “I’d imagine it would, given your condition. Is this your spouse? I have to ask, to confirm that it’s okay to dis
cuss your test results while he’s present.”

  “We’re together. You can tell us both,” Cherry confirms. “Everything’s fine with me, right?”

  “Yes, all your screens and diagnostics came back normal.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Your blood pressure dipped a bit, which caused your lightheadedness.”

  “Oh okay. I thought it was just bad sushi, or exhaustion.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest any more sushi for a while,” the doctor informs her.

  “No?”

  “That’s right, Ma’am. And the same goes for alcohol, smoking, anything that would harm the fetus, which is crucial during the first—”

  “Whoa doc,” I stop him, looking back and forth between him and Cherry. “Back it up a bit. What are you talking about? Did you mix up your patient records, because I thought you just said something about a fetus.”

  “There’s no mix-up, I assure you. Miss Buchannan is in her first trimester. Seven weeks, give or take.” He pauses and finally looks up at our faces. “I gather neither of you were aware of that.”

  “I’m pregnant?” Cherry asks, but looks only at me.

  “That you are. Congratulations to the both of you. Miss Buchannan, I suggest that you get some rest for a few hours. I’ll sign your discharge then. If you’d like, I’ll forward the patient record to your family doctor, who can refer you to an obstetrician. Have a good day.”

  “Did he just say I’m pregnant?” Cherry asks me after the doctor leaves.

  I nod. “He did. How do you feel about the fact that I, uh, knocked you up?”

  “How do you feel?”

  I can’t help but smile. “Virile, I guess. Pretty studly. Excited, depending on whether you are too.”

  She grabs my arm and rests her head on the back of my hand. “I wasn’t expecting anything like this, but now that it’s happened. I’m…I’m excited too.”

  “You’re carrying my kid,” I tell her, running my free hand over her stomach.

  “I am. Oh my God, I am. Jace?”

  “Yes?”

  “I guess we should tell your dad that we’re a couple. Seeing as he’s my boss and well, he’ll eventually have to approve my maternity leave.”

  “He already knows.”

  “What?”

  “I talked to him while you were with your father just now, before you fainted. He said he’s known for months. Was waiting for us to let the cat out of the bag.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yes.” I smile. “Knowing him, he probably has a pool going with his geezer friends about your due date.”

  Seven Months Later

  24

  Cherry

  After an uneventful close to full-term pregnancy, my water breaks at the office at seven on a Friday night.

  I’m alone, except for Jackson’s secretary, Gemma, who I can hear down the hall on the phone. The place empties out at five on Friday as a rule, because that’s the nature of the business. What’s worse is I can’t move. I’m. In. Unbearable. Fucking. Pain. Liquid’s dripping down my leg. A lot of it. I can’t help feeling like something’s not right. Contractions aren’t supposed to hit me like a freight train, are they?

  I can’t believe this is happening right now. All the careful planning doesn’t allow for this scenario.

  “Gemma?” I shout in her direction as loudly as the pain will allow. “Um, I think I’m having a baby.”

  “Give me a second, love,” she shouts back in the sweetest voice while she wraps up whatever she’s doing.

  Reaching for my phone, I send a group text to my father, Jace and Vanessa, just in case they’re close by. Dad’s been out of the long-term care hospital for three months. He walks with a cane due to partial paralysis on his left side, but overall, his health is much better. And although we’re still working on our relationship, we’re a million miles closer to each other now than before.

  The message I send reads, ‘Hi, y’all. I’m having this baby now, I think. Not sure. Gemma’s going to check me out. Then 9-1-1 is my next call.’

  The first reply I get back is from Jace.

  ‘I’m across town. On my way!’

  Dad also replies that he’s half an hour away and his driver will swing by immediately. Then Vanessa’s number comes up with a message, that says, ‘Hey. Cool! It’s Dylan. Vanessa forgot her phone in my car. She’s not here, but Emily and I aren’t too far away. On our way.’

  “Oh my God!” Gemma practically screams when she gets to my desk. “I thought you were kidding.” She stares down at the small round pool of clearish liquid on the granite floor. “Looks like this baby’s coming. I’ll drive you to the hospital. Let me just grab my—”

  “I think I’m past that point,” I confess to her, cutting her off through clenched teeth.

  “What do you mean? When did the pain start?”

  “Same time that my water broke. Ten—minutes—ago,” I force out through the excruciating pain.

  “You shouldn’t be that dilated, though. Do you mind if I check? I have three sisters. I’ve helped deliver a couple of babies in my time.”

  Like I have much choice. Nodding, I part my legs. Thank God I’m wearing a skirt today or she’d probably have to cut pants off of me.

  “I don’t know how this is possible, dear,” she says after moving my panties aside. “You’re almost fully dilated. I’m calling 9-1-1. Hang on.” After her semi-panicked yet mostly controlled phone call using my desk line, she comes to my side and helps me over to the sofa in Mr. Knight’s office.

  Good lord, please don’t let me have this baby here.

  “Are you sure you didn’t feel any pain earlier?”

  I shake my head and grab hold of her arm as what has to be a contraction hits me like a ton of bricks. “I’m—sure! Oh God, but I feel it now. Help me, Gemma!”

  “Your baby’s coming fast, dear. Try to breathe. Can you wait here on your own? I need to get a few things like towels and boil some water if your little one arrives while it’s just the two of us.”

  “Sure,” I croak. “Go, but come back fast…please!”

  The pressure and pain is a killer, extending from deep inside my ribcage, all the way down to my fucking knees. Jesus. It’s worse than anything I’ve ever felt. I try to push back the darkness that starts to form behind my eyes. Every time I blink, my eyesight gets more blurry. And my arms and legs feel so cold.

  I can’t pass out.

  Not now. I can’t stand to think it, but I never got to meet my mother. Is this what happened to her too?

  God, where’s Jace?

  “Gemma?” I call out again, forcing to form each word as another wave of pain wrenches and rips more of my vaginal walls, tugging me closer to unconsciousness. “Gemma…use my phone. Get Jace here… now…the baby. Please save him…I can’t…tell Jace to take care of our boy…and that I love them so much—”

  The room goes from neutral masculine tones to blackness, and my last thought is about getting Jace here. I should have said ‘yes’ when he asked me to marry him, after we found out I was pregnant. I wanted to wait until the baby got here. There was so much going on, so much to handle, getting ready for the baby’s arrival.

  I thought we had time.

  Why isn’t Jace here yet?

  Oh God, my baby.

  Our baby.

  If I don’t make it, they’re going to need each other.

  25

  Jace

  I should have gotten here sooner. I should have waited for her tonight.

  This can’t be happening. I get a call from Gemma that the ambulance took Cherry to the hospital emergency room. She was unconscious. Rushing across town on a Friday night is a fucking lose-lose situation. There are no shortcuts, and traffic is everywhere. I want to kick myself for leaving her alone at the office. This dinner meeting with Caleb and one of our new clients could have waited.

  Fuck.

  From what Gemma related back to me on my mad drive to get there, the ne
ws is fucking tragic. By the time they get Cherry to a neonatal operating room, her breathing is faint, and the baby’s also struggling. I don’t need to hear over the phone that it doesn’t look good for Cherry or the baby. It’s close to an hour after getting Cherry’s text that I screech my car to a halt, not giving a fuck that I parked illegally right outside the emergency area.

  I feel like I’m underwater as I hurry through the packed halls to the admitting area and to an elevator to get to Cherry’s private room. Gerald, Vanessa, Dylan, Emily, and Gemma are already here. I charge past them to get inside, but Dylan tries to stop me.

  “You can’t go in there.”

  “Cherry’s in there. And my son,” I bark, shoving him away.

  “They’re doing an emergency C-section,” he shouts to get my attention as I put my hand on the doorknob. “The room’s locked.”

  I lean forward, placing my hands on my knees as his news causes all the adrenaline to escape my body, leaving me sick to my stomach and weak in the knees.

  This isn’t happening.

  Not to Cherry.

  Not to my unborn son.

  There’s only been a handful of times in my life that I’ve said a prayer to implore to any higher power that might exist. God, or whoever he is, never came through for me before. Not with my mother. Fuck, he can’t do this to me twice. Three times, as my child needs to be born. He needs a chance. And I can’t do this without Cherry.

  I pray for her as she fights for her life and the life of our child in the operating table on the other side of this door.

  It feels like hours later when one of the surgeons emerges from the room.

  “Mr. Knight?” he calls out.

  “Yes. That’s me. How’s Cherry? What about my baby? I need to see them,” I tell him, already pushing my way past him to get to them.

  “Calm down, Mr. Knight. You can’t go in there.”