Four Secret Babies - A Second Chance Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 7)

by Layla Valentine

  Once the accountants had worked their magic, they let me know that the principal was set to increase every year, compounding by the month. And the returns on the investments made certain that I’d have more than enough money to live on for the foreseeable future, likely even for the remainder of my days. Alfred had set me up for life.

  All I had to worry about was what lay ahead of me. Even without money worries, and even with the doctors at the clinic to guide me through the whole process, I was still a jangle of nerves. Starting today, I was going to have more than just myself to be responsible for. I was going to have four little lives that were all counting on me.

  But I was ready.

  “How excited are you?” asked Amy, clasping her hands together with delight. “I mean, I’m totally excited, and I’m not even the one about to give birth. I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

  “Equal parts excited and terrified,” I said.

  “That’s completely normal,” said my mom. “But once that kid—I mean those kids—come out, it’s going to be like nothing you’ve ever felt in your life, baby. I’m so excited or you.”

  My dad gave one strong nod of his head as though he’d settled on a decision that he’d been grappling with. “You need anything—anything at all—you tell me. My baby girl has enough to worry about today, and you’re not going to worry about a thing if I have anything to say about it.”

  My dad’s expression was a combination of stress and readiness. He’d always been protective over me, and today was no exception.

  “And that includes tracking down their father and ringing his neck if you want,” he went on.

  The group laughed.

  “Richard!” my mom cried. “Let’s keep the threats of violence to a minimum today, huh?”

  “I told you, Dad,” I said. “He doesn’t know. And I want to keep it that way.”

  “Still a damn punk in my book,” Dad said, running his hand over his close-cropped, light brown hair.

  “Okay, okay,” said my mom, her watch in front of her face. “You’re due at the clinic in an hour, so we need to get moving soon.”

  “Listen,” Isabella cut in. “I don’t want you eating any of that crappy hospital food. I’m gonna be here cooking nonstop, so stay hungry.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, Isabella,” I said.

  “Okay,” said my dad. “You ready to do this?”

  I nodded, and my dad reached forward to help me off the couch. With an “oof” and a grunt, he heaved me to my feet. Once I was standing, I took a look around my living room, which had been furnished with charming décor and cozy furniture over the last few months.

  “Let me do something first,” I said.

  I waddled out of the room and up the stairs. Once there, I took a look at the two bedrooms that I’d made into nurseries, one for each set of babies. Each room had a pair of cribs in the middle of the room, the décor gender neutral since I didn’t want to learn the sexes of the babies until the day of their birth.

  It was the last time this house was going to be this quiet, possibly the last time my life was going to be this quiet. I took it all in, closing my eyes as I considered the day ahead.

  “Okay,” I said, waddling back down the stairs. “Let’s do this.”

  The crew formed up around me, helping me as I slowly made my way to my dad’s car outside. I glanced up, the sky a slate gray, the air cool and crisp—an unseasonable day for August in San Bravado. But I loved it. The summer had been warmer than usual, and the chilly air felt fresh on my skin.

  My dad rushed over to the back door and opened it, and each of them supported me as they could as I plopped myself down onto the seat.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the process; I felt like a queen surrounded by handlers, all ready to tend to her every need and whim.

  Once settled into the back, my parents and Amy climbed in, my father, of course, insisting on driving. Isabella stood outside, waving to us as my father pulled out of the driveway and put us on the road.

  The drive was silent, Amy holding my hand as we made our way to the private clinic where the procedure was set to take place.

  “Oh!” I said, feeling movement in my belly. “They’re going crazy in there.”

  “They know it’s time to come out,” said my mom. “You were the same way—eager to get out and see the world.”

  The babies settled down as we approached the clinic. Once there, a valet guided us into a spot.

  “Valet service?” asked my dad. “Fancy place.”

  “Mr. King was insistent that his employees have the best care,” I said.

  My mom shook her head in disbelief.

  “The man was a saint,” she said.

  We got out of the car, and the valet hopped in and drove off. A small team of nurses was there waiting for us, Dr. Haverford among them.

  “There she is!” said Dr. Haverford.

  She gestured for one of the nurses to approach with a wheelchair. Part of me bristled at the idea of being wheeled around, but I’d only been on my feet for a few minutes today, and my legs were already killing me. I plopped down into the fancy chair, my leg muscles singing with relief.

  “You ready to meet your little ones?” Dr. Haverford asked as she placed her hand on my shoulder.

  I took in a slow breath and smiled. “More ready than I’ve ever been for anything.”

  Dr. Haverford gave my shoulder a soft, supportive squeeze.

  I was wheeled into the lobby of the clinic, the soft whites and green plants of the space putting me at ease instantly. This was infinitely preferable to a sterile hospital.

  “Now,” said Dr. Haverford, “this is, unfortunately, the part where we have to say goodbye to friends and family.”

  “Are you serious?” asked my dad. “I was there in the room when Chloe was born. Why I can’t I be in the room to see my grandkids?”

  “A C-section isn’t like a natural birth. It’s a surgery. And a surgical environment has to be kept stable and sterile. But I promise you we’ll be keeping you all posted at every step of the process, and you’ll be able to see the happy family as soon as possible.”

  “It’s okay, Dad,” I said, reaching back and grabbing his rough hand.

  The expression on his face made it clear that, while he wasn’t all that happy to see me go, he understood.

  “You take care of my girl, doctor,” he said.

  Dr. Haverford flashed a warm, professional smile that let me know, as it always did, that I was in good hands.

  My parents and Amy swarmed around me, giving me tight, but careful, hugs. Once they’d said their goodbyes, Dr. Haverford and the rest of the nurses wheeled me through the doors that led to the other rooms of the clinic.

  “Now,” Dr. Haverford said as we made our way down a wide hallway, nurses and other doctors purposefully moving here and there. “I know we’ve been over how this is going to work plenty of times, but I want to make sure that you don’t have any more questions. Or you’re unsure about even a single thing.”

  My mind whirled with various concerns. I took a deep breath, thinking back to the visits in which she’d gone out of her way to put my mind at ease. “No,” I said. “I’m ready.”

  Dr. Haverford gave me one more warm smile before gesturing for the nurses to continue on. We soon arrived in a white prep room with a bed and team of clinic staff waiting for us.

  “Now,” said Dr. Haverford. “This is the part when I leave you to the surgeons. They’re going to take great care of you and make sure that the birth goes as smoothly as possible.”

  “You’re going to be there after the surgery, right?” I asked, suddenly frazzled at the idea of not being near a familiar face.

  “Of course,” she said. “I’ll be right there when the procedure is over, and I’ll be at your side in the coming months to make sure that all of the kids are happy and healthy. Trust me, by the time we’re done, you’re going to be sick of me.”

  She turned toward one of the s
crub-dressed surgeons, a tall woman with a friendly smile and dark hair tucked under a green cap.

  “This is Dr. Monroe,” said Dr. Haverford. “She’s one of the best obstetricians in the state. After me, of course. She specializes in multiple births and is going to take great care of you.”

  Dr. Monroe stepped forward and extended her hand.

  “Chloe, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  The doctor’s disarming smile put me at ease instantly. I took her hand, and she gave it a firm shake.

  “Next is the anesthetic, right?” I asked.

  “That’s right,” said Dr. Monroe. “As you know, we’ll be doing a regional anesthetic, from the belly down. You won’t feel any pain, and you’ll be awake to greet each baby as we bring him or her out into the world.”

  I took one more deep, slow breath.

  “Okay,” I said. “I think I’m ready to start.”

  With those words, my life changed forever.

  Chapter 22

  Chloe

  “Okay,” said Dr. Monroe, her voice muffled slightly by her face mask. “Here comes number one!”

  I was lying on the bed in the surgery room, my back propped up slightly, a green tent of fabric over the lower half of my body. Numbness had taken hold of me from the sternum down, and all I could feel of the work the team of surgeons were performing was a slight tug here and there.

  Then, I heard a baby crying.

  Something happened in my heart the instant I heard the cry, like some sort of switch had been flipped in me, a new part of me being turned on. I wanted nothing more than to take the baby into my arms, to do whatever it took to make it safe, to make it feel loved.

  “Please,” I said, slightly delirious from the anesthesia. “Can I see…him? Her?”

  “It’s a him,” said Dr. Monroe. “A happy, healthy baby boy. All ten fingers and ten toes.”

  She moved around from behind the tarp, a squirming baby in her arms. My baby.

  She brought him over to me, the baby wailing.

  “Now,” said Dr. Monroe. “Normally, we’d be able to give him to you and let you hold him for as long as you wanted. But this is a bit different of a situation—we still have three more kiddos to go.”

  I nodded in understanding, tears in my eyes as I reached out for the baby. Dr. Monroe gently, very gently, placed the child in my arms.

  I couldn’t believe what I was doing. I was holding my firstborn baby. A boy, a beautiful, healthy boy.

  He continued wailing as I held him close, the emotions running through me almost too much to bear.

  “Okay,” said Dr. Monroe. “I have to take him back now. We’ll get him all cleaned and up and taken care of so he’s ready for you.”

  I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted to hold this beautiful little boy forever. But the doctor was right—there were still three more left. I kissed the boy’s gorgeous little face before handing him back to Dr. Monroe. She quickly gave him to one of the nurses who hurried from the room.

  Longing took hold of me as soon as she left. Even though I’d just met the baby, having him out of sight tugged at my heart in a way I could hardly understand.

  “Here comes number two!” called out Dr. Monroe.

  More tugging, more crying, and another baby was brought into the world.

  “We have a girl!” Dr. Monroe said.

  “A…girl?” I asked, my voice sounding almost delirious.

  “A girl,” she said. “Just as beautiful. And this hair!”

  She brought the baby over, and I eagerly took her into my arms. Right away I noticed her hair, a gorgeous tuft of fire-red.

  Just like her father.

  She was precious and perfect, and I gave her the same kiss that I’d given to her brother, right on her forehead. The baby girl seemed antsier than the boy, who had only squirmed as I held him. This girl, my girl, seemed more shaken up by the whole process.

  “She seems scared,” I said as I handed her back to Dr. Monroe.

  “She’ll be right as rain in a second,” the doctor said after she’d handed the baby off. “Now, time for number three!”

  The tugging still felt strange. Though it wasn’t painful, it was odd and uncomfortable. I had to remind myself it was the price I had to pay to bring my babies out. I’d suffer anything for them—mild discomfort was nothing at all.

  “And…another girl!”

  I held out my hands, and a new baby, as lovely as the first two, was handed to me. This one had a head of curly hair, and she instantly reminded me of the pictures that my parents had once shown me of when I was a newborn.

  I barely had time to react to baby number three before the staff called out that number four was on the way.

  “And, last but not least,” said Dr. Monroe. “We have another boy!”

  She brought him to me, and I noticed right away that, like baby two, this boy had a head of gorgeous red hair. I held him close, now feeling so drained by the whole ordeal that I couldn’t believe it.

  Baby number four was soon taken from me, and I finally allowed relief to take hold.

  “That’s it?” I asked. “You got them all?”

  My eyes drifted over to the clock in the room, and I saw that only an hour or so had passed since I’d been brought in here. So much had happened over the course of just one hour.

  “That’s right,” said Dr. Monroe. “I poked around a little bit, made sure that we didn’t miss one.”

  I laughed, a laugh of humor and relief.

  “Now what?” I asked. “Can I see them yet?”

  “Just a few minutes,” she said. “Right now, we need to get you stitched up.”

  I glanced down at the curtain covering my lower body. The surgery had been so painless that I’d forgotten they’d opened me up.

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “Minor details.”

  Dr. Monroe placed her hand on my shoulder, her touch comforting.

  “The hard part’s over. All of your babies are beautiful and in good health. Now let’s get this all finished up, and you can say hello to the family.”

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  The doctors went back to work, and as they did, all I could think about were the babies. I wanted them in my arms so badly it was almost physically painful. I wondered if this is what being a mother was going to be like, a connection between my children and me that was like nothing I’d ever before experienced.

  “Okay,” said Dr. Monroe. “You’re all patched up. We need to get the opening cleaned and covered up, and that’ll be that.”

  The process took only thirty or so minutes. By the time the curtain tented over my bottom half was taken down, I was wearing my hospital gown, a little bit of white gauze on my stomach visible under it. Dr. Monroe and the rest of the staff wheeled me out of the room and into a room in the postnatal wing of the clinic. Like the rest of the place, the room was clean, white, and inviting. Lush plants were here and there, and a window afforded a view of the park behind the building.

  “Now,” she said. “A C-section is a routine surgery, but it’s a surgery nonetheless. So we’re going to keep you here for a couple of days to make sure that all’s going well with you and the babies. And since I figure you’re probably going to want to be up and around as soon as you can, we’re going to monitor you while the anesthetic wears off. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours until you’re up on your feet.”

  “Doctor,” I said. “Thank you so much for everything.”

  She gave me a warm smile. “It’s my pleasure. I’m happy that everything went as well as it could’ve. We’ll have the babies in here with you as soon as possible.

  With that, she turned and left. All I could think about as soon as I was alone were the babies. I wanted them in my arms right then and there.

  It wasn’t long before my wish was granted.

  A soft knock sounded at the door. I called for whoever was there to come in. The door opened and it was the babies, all of them in a wheeled carrier being pushed
by a nurse.

  “Here they are!” she said as she moved the carrier next to the bed.

  I gasped as I set eyes on them. Sure, they were beautiful before, but here, all cleaned up and wrapped in blankets, they were positively angelic. I eagerly reached for them, and the nurse helped me with the first, the baby boy with red hair.

  “You want one at a time?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “I want them all. I’m going to need to learn how to hold them all eventually, right?”

  The nurse laughed lightly as she helped me with the rest of the babies. Soon, I had them all with me on the bed, two in each arm. I felt…like I’d never felt before in my life.

  “Now,” said the nurse. “How do we feel about visitors?”

  I thought it over. Part of me wanted to be alone with the kids for a little while, but the greater part wanted to have everyone here, to share in the love.

  “Send them in,” I said with a smile.

  The nurse smiled and nodded, letting me know before she left that she was here for whatever I needed.

  And then in came Mom and Dad and Amy. The three of them poured into the room, beelining for the babies and covering them with kisses and love.

  “Look at the red hair on those two!” Mom said, pointing to the boy and girl at my left side. “What manes!”

  Then my mother’s expression turned serious.

  “Now, I know from experience that coming up with one name is hard enough. Have you figured out four?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  I placed my hand on the boy at my right.

  “Firstborn boy is Alfred. I think after everything he’s done for me, it’s the least I could do.”

  “I agree,” my mother said, her eyes warm and focused on the babies.

  “That’s one,” said my dad. “You’ve still got three more.”

  “The oldest girl is Madeline, the younger is Sophia. No reason, just like the names.”

  “Very pretty,” said Amy, agreeing with my choices.

  That left the youngest boy. Part of me thought that “Jordan” would be the most appropriate name. But I quickly determined that if he wasn’t going to be here for the kids, he didn’t get a “Junior.”