Practice Makes Pregnant

by Lois Faye Dyer

  “Did Leah have any problems giving birth?” Allison asked.

  “No, Eloise said the doctors were pleased with everything.”

  “Excellent.” Allison had worried about how well Leah would do during delivery, since it seemed the soon-to-be mother had grown bigger each day.

  “I don’t know how you women do it,” Tony commented, shaking his head. “One baby is a lot of work, but three seems darned near impossible.”

  “Eloise assures me that two or three babies aren’t all that much more difficult than one,” Allison commented without thinking.

  “Yeah?” Tony eyed her with friendly curiosity.

  “Yes,” she kept her voice casual. She didn’t want to give away her new status as a multiple-birth mom. Not yet. “She has triplets.”

  The others took their cue from her noncommittal reply, and the four chatted about a variety of topics as they rode to the hospital and found the proper floor.

  The waiting room was filled with their co-workers from Manhattan Multiples, and they were greeted with a chorus of hellos.

  “How’s Leah?” Allison asked. “And the babies?”

  “She’s doing very well,” Eloise said, her smile bright. “And the babies are just wonderful—three perfect little girls. Leah named them Allison, Josie and Eloise. Isn’t that the sweetest thing?”

  “Oh, yes.” Touched, Allison felt tears dampen her lashes, but this time she didn’t care. “That’s so nice of her—and so completely unexpected.”

  “Can we see Leah and the babies?” Josie asked.

  “Sure. The doctor said we could visit in small groups.”

  Josie, Lara, Allison and Tony, led by Eloise, left the crowded waiting room and walked down the hallway.

  “She’s in here,” Eloise said quietly, and pushed open the door.

  Leah was propped up in bed, her newly diminished figure tucked beneath pristine white sheets and blanket. She turned her head as they entered, her smile wide.

  “Hello.” Her voice was soft, exhaustion evident in her tone, but filled with a quiet elation.

  They gathered around her bed.

  “Where are the babies?” Josie glanced around the room, eager to see Leah’s new family.

  “The girls are in the nursery,” Leah said. “None of them are over five pounds, and the doctor wants them kept in incubators until they’re a bit older. But the nursery is right across the hall and you can see them through the window.”

  “And how are you doing?” Allison asked, thinking that the new mother fairly glowed.

  Leah smiled. “Very well. I was afraid that delivery would be scary since there were three babies instead of one, but it all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to be afraid.”

  Allison thought Leah exuded a kind of radiant peace, and her words reassured her about the future delivery of her own babies as nothing else could have.

  “When will you get to go home?” Tony asked.

  Allison saw Leah’s gaze soften as she looked across the bed at Tony. His very male, muscled body, clothed in dark jacket and jeans, together with his black hair and brown eyes, created a sharp contrast to the females in the room with their colorful clothes and slim figures.

  “I’m not sure,” Leah replied. “I haven’t asked the doctor, but I don’t think he’ll keep me in hospital very long. The babies will probably remain for a while, however, perhaps until they weigh at least five pounds.”

  “But they’re fine, aren’t they? There’s nothing wrong?” Allison’s voice revealed the quick stab of anxiety that caught at her chest.

  “No, nothing’s wrong, they’re perfectly healthy,” Leah hastened to reassure her. “They’re perfect but tiny.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  “Why don’t you all walk across the hall to see them?” Leah urged. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Not that you’re prejudiced,” Josie teased, her eyes twinkling.

  “Not at all,” Leah agreed complacently. “But they really are three absolutely perfect babies.”

  Everyone laughed, they couldn’t help it. Leah’s pride in her children was unaffected, unshakable and absolute.

  “I think we should traipse across the hall and take a look at these superbabies,” Tony commented. He winked at Leah and moved to the door, holding it open so the women could file through.

  “We’ll be right back, Leah,” Allison said over her shoulder.

  Leah responded with a wave of her hand and a contented smile.

  The curtains were open in the long hall window that looked over the nursery area. Only a few feet beyond the clear glass were three little incubators holding tiny little scraps of humanity, a card labeled Simpson slotted at the end of each small bed. Each of the babies were wrapped snugly in a pink blanket with a tiny little knit cap on her head, and the little red faces beneath the pink caps were identical. Two of the babies were sleeping, their eyes closed, lips pursed, but the third was wide-awake, stirring and stretching until finally, as the five adults watched, she opened her mouth and wailed. Seconds later a nurse swept the crying infant into her arms. She glanced up, saw the group at the window and approached to hold the little one up for them to view.

  “Oh, isn’t she darling?” Allison breathed, fascinated by the tiny, perfectly formed child.

  “Yes.” Eloise brushed away a tear. “She is.”

  Tony shifted uncomfortably and patted Eloise awkwardly on the shoulder. “If she’s so great, why are you crying?” He nodded at the smiling nurse and red-faced baby on the other side of the glass. “You’re making the baby cry.”

  Eloise laughed. “You may be right, Tony.” She waggled her fingers at the baby but was ignored. The nurse met Eloise’s gaze, and they both chuckled.

  “I suppose we should go back to the waiting room, so someone else can come in and visit.” Eloise turned away from the window, and the rest of the group reluctantly followed.

  All except Allison. Her gaze followed the nurse as she returned the now-sleeping baby to her incubator. Behind her the voices of her friends greeted Leah, and Allison glanced over her shoulder, the open door allowing her a glimpse of Leah’s happy, contented features before the door quietly closed.

  She turned back to the nursery and the three beautiful new babies and felt her heart turn over. Her palm instinctively covered the small, barely there bulge of her own babies, and she knew, with sudden fierce certainty, that she had to put aside her insecurity and uncertainties and reach out to Jorge. Her babies, like the amazingly tiny infants in the hospital nursery incubators, deserved the best that life could offer them. They definitely deserved a mother brave enough to fight for their future and her own.

  Her mind firmly made up, Allison went back to Leah’s room just in time to give her a quick hug before they all returned to the waiting room. The staff of Manhattan Multiples took up nearly every available space in the big room’s collection of cushioned sofas and chairs.

  “You know what I think?” Lara said as they queued up to pour coffee into foam cups from the coffee urn atop a small table in a corner of the room.

  “No, what?” Allison looked longingly at the coffee urn but chose an herbal teabag and filled her cup from the hot water pot on the tray.

  “I think we have to find a way to keep Manhattan Multiples’ doors open. Seeing Leah with her babies really reinforces the importance of what we do at MM offices.”

  “I agree.” Allison nodded.

  “So do I.” Eloise’s voice joined theirs, and both women turned to see her standing directly behind them. “I only wish I knew how to make it happen.”

  “Make what happen?” the two people standing behind Eloise inquired, the question loud in an unexpected conversational lull.

  The room quieted even further, everyone turning to look expectantly at Eloise.

  “Lara and Allison were just saying that we must find a way to generate funding for Manhattan Multiples so that we can continue to help new mothers like Leah.”

  “Hear, hea
r!” Tony called, lifting his white paper cup.

  “The question is,” Eloise said, “how are we going to do it?”

  “We’ll find a way!” someone called from the back.

  “Yes. Even if we have to panhandle on the street in front of the offices!”

  The group laughed and cheered at the wild suggestion.

  “Whatever it takes,” Josie said, her mobile features serious, “we’ll do. Manhattan Multiples has to stay open. The city needs us.”

  “She’s right. United we stand!”

  Eloise’s gray eyes filled with tears. “You all are wonderful. Bless you.” She lifted her head, chin firming, and nodded decisively. “We’ll find a way. We must. Not only does the city need us, but our mothers and their babies need us. We can’t let them down.”

  The group cheered. Allison stayed at the impromptu brainstorming session for ideas to save Manhattan Multiples for another half hour before she said goodbye and headed for home.

  Determined to face Jorge with the strength to reach out and grab his offer of a real marriage with both hands, she entered the apartment, hung up her coat and went looking for him.

  “Jorge?”

  He wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room, and she peered into the empty master bedroom before pushing open the door to the soon-to-be nursery that still functioned as Jorge’s office.

  He was seated at his desk, and he looked over his shoulder when the door opened, his expression both welcoming and wary. He wore comfortable, faded jeans and a cotton shirt, the long sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. Allison’s heart lurched. His hair was rumpled, and he looked good enough to eat.

  “Allison. You’re home.”

  “Yes, I am. And we need to resolve some things.” She walked toward him.

  “I agree. You have to listen to me.”

  “I don’t want to listen to you.” She stopped in front of him, so close that she stood between his spread thighs.

  “Allison,” he began.

  He didn’t get to finish. Allison grabbed his collar at the same time that she settled on to his lap and covered his mouth with hers. For one terrifying moment he stiffened and went absolutely still. Allison thought she’d done precisely the wrong thing and repulsed him.

  But then he wrapped his arms around her and yanked her flush against him, his mouth hot and eager beneath hers, his hands nearly bruising as he cupped the back of her head and held her mouth against his.

  She slipped her arms around his neck, shivering with pleasure when his mouth left hers and he buried his face in the hollow of her throat, his lips hot against the pound of her pulse.

  “Allison,” he muttered, lifting his head to look down at her. “Thank God.” He cupped her bottom and pulled her tighter against him. “You believe me? Because if you don’t, I—”

  She covered his mouth with her palm, silencing him.

  “I believe you,” she said, her voice throaty. “And I need to tell you something.” She paused, gathered her courage. “I hope you meant it when you told me that you want a real marriage, because that’s what I want, too.” Relief and heat flared in his eyes, and before he could speak, she hurried on. “But if I ever catch you holding another woman, I swear, Jorge, I’m going to kill you.”

  His lips quirked, tickling her palm.

  “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

  His low chuckle escaped her fingers.

  She frowned threateningly. “I mean it.”

  He nodded solemnly, but his eyes laughed at her.

  “I’m sorry that I’ve been so erratic emotionally, but Dr. Kenyan says that even if the mood swings continue all during my pregnancy, there’s no reason to expect that I won’t be back to my usual calm, stable self after the babies are born.”

  He rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow. She frowned at him.

  “Dr. Kenyan assured me that I won’t continue to have ‘boomeranging hormones’ after I deliver. But you may have to grit your teeth and bear with me until then.”

  She drew a deep breath and let it out, frowning at him. He caught her hand in his and looked at her inquiringly. She nodded and he lifted her hand from his mouth, pressed a warm kiss in the palm and looked at her expectantly.

  When he didn’t speak, Allison narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “What?”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” His voice was raspy, amused, husky with arousal. When she continued to look at him with confusion, he sighed. “Aren’t you going to tell me you love me?”

  Allison froze, panicking, wondering if he was going to reject her if she was the first to say the words.

  He smiled and smoothed his forefinger over the frown lines between her brows. “Because I love you. I think I fell in love with you at first sight, when I looked across that crowded ballroom and saw you.”

  Allison felt her bones melt, her heart surge with relief. “Oh, Jorge, I love you, too.” Tears welled up and overflowed.

  His thumb smoothed the salty moisture away from her cheeks. “Honey, you’ve got to stop crying. And I don’t care how erratic you are while you’re pregnant, as long as you keep loving me, your hormones can boomerang all they want. I’ll be the most patient expectant father in the world.”

  Allison’s eyebrows rose in disbelief, and he burst out laughing.

  “Well, I’ll try to be the most patient man in the world. How’s that?”

  “Just as long as you don’t stop loving me,” she murmured.

  “Honey, that’s a promise.” He stood, covering her mouth with his as he headed for their bedroom. “Just as long as you never stop loving me.”

  He repeated her words like a vow.

  A wedding vow, Allison thought hazily, realizing that all her dreams had come true, just before he stripped off her blouse and she lost herself in her husband’s arms.

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to

  Lois Faye Dyer for her contribution to the

  MANHATTAN MULTIPLES series.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-1682-2

  PRACTICE MAKES PREGNANT

  Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Books S.A.

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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