Shattered & Mended (Shaken Series)

by Julie Bailes

  “Babe, the bones aren’t edible,” Blake jokes, handing me a napkin. I take the napkin and wipe the tips of my fingers clean. “Would you at least take these and get a drink? I don’t need you spittin’ flames later. Remember last time?” He reaches into the console and pulls out the Tums. Remembering the indigestion I got from these damn things the last time I scoffed them down causes my appetite to vanish. The intensity made me convinced that I had the capability to cough up fireballs the size of Jupiter. It was horrible.

  We were supposed to meet my mom for lunch after the ultrasound, but I had to eat now. Who in the hell considers it lunch at three p.m.? That’s a midafternoon snack; at least for me, it is. As per Dr. Wilters’ diagnosis, I haven’t gained nearly enough weight with this pregnancy, and he advised me to eat at least every three hours. He said that healthy weight gain can reduce the risk of preterm labor, and I’m already considered high risk because of my weak cervix.

  Today, we’re going in for my twenty---week ultrasound. It feels like just the other week I discovered I was pregnant, and now I’m halfway through the pregnancy. Twenty weeks down, and twenty weeks to go, if I’m lucky. I was blown away when he told me women who carry twins usually deliver before thirty-four weeks, and that scared the shit out of me. My mind flashes back to Lacy; how tiny she was, how difficult it was for her to breathe or eat on her own, and the machines and tubes she was connected to. I don’t want to go through that terror again.

  As we’re walking through the halls of the hospital, making our way to the imaging department, I run into Carson. “Allieeeeee,” he squeals. He reaches out to hug me, but stops and looks down to my belly. “Damn, girl, that baby on steroids?” he asks seriously.

  “Shut up!” I give him a playful push, “No, mean ass. There’s two of them.” Carson takes a step closer and rests his hands on my stomach.

  “Twins?” he gasps. I nod in confirmation, smiling at him like I wish I could smile at Sophie. I haven’t spoken to her since the hospital. She’s called and texted several times, but unlike Wyatt, she’s finally given up.

  “Awwwww! Come here,” he insists, waving me into him. I lean in and wrap my arms around his thick neck. And even though I’ve only spoken to him twice—both times being in this hospital— I feel like I’ve known him my entire life. Maybe it’s because he’s a spitting image of Kyle, or maybe it’s the way his attitude resembles Sophie’s? Either way, I already love him.

  Once we’re separated, he eyes me up and down, puckers his lips, and shakes his head. “Umm, why haven’t you called me? Besides ‘Dr. McHotness’ right there,” he begins, pausing to undress my man with his eyes, “I know I’m the best man who’s ever walked into your life,” he finishes.

  “Carson, you’re hardly considered a man,” Blake chuckles.

  “Oh, please, I got my proof of that. I’ll show you anytime, Doctor,” Carson purrs, clawing at Blake’s chest. I erupt in laughter, and then immediately go silent from the look on Blake’s face.

  Kill me dead, right now. Is B homophobic? His body’s stiff as stone.

  “Calm down, big boy, you’re not my type. I prefer a man, who’s rough around the edges, a man with some scruff. But you, you’re pretty. Besides, I’m more than you can handle,” Carson teases.

  Blake shakes his head in silence and takes my hand in his, leading us down the hall. Carson takes his tongue to probes the inside of his cheek and points from me to Blake, insinuating I should make him happy. Of course, he does this behind Blake, which causes me to look like an idiot when I burst out laughing hysterically. “I need your number,” I call down the hall, just as Blake picks up speed.

  “Check your phone. It’s under Ass Slappin’ Daddy,” he bellows back.

  I. Can’t. Breathe. I’m laughing so hard.

  “Babe, don’t encourage him. He’s not funny,” Blake pouts.

  “Oh, but he is,” I argue. Actually, Blake’s right. Carson isn’t funny; he’s hilarious. A make -you-pee-your-pants type of comedian, literally. Thank God above I had enough sense to put on a panty liner, because I’m pretty sure I just pissed myself.

  Blake signs us in and comes to take a seat beside me. “Am I really that big?” Carson had eyed me like I’m a freak of nature, and in my opinion, I’m not that big.

  “No, babe. If anything, you need to do what Dr. Wilters suggested and gain some more weight,” he responds. He’s lying. I know this because Carson’s eyes bulged from his sockets when he saw my growing globe, and I was nowhere near this size with Lacy this early on. In fact, I’m almost as round now as I was the day I delivered her.

  We get called back, and the sonographer begins her prepping. She lubes my belly and works her magic while she describes what she’s doing to the student standing beside her. Blake and I sit back and watch her take the measurements. Every so often, she has to shake my stomach to get one of the babies to move so she can measure its legs or arms. “You want to know the sex?” she asks.

  I look to Blake, wanting to know his thoughts. Surprisingly, we’ve never discussed if we wanted to know the sex of our babies. With Lacy, I had to know, but with these little ones, I think I want it to be a surprise. He shrugs and smiles. “I don’t know. Do you want to know?” he asks.

  “Let’s try something. I’ll count to three, and on three we’ll shake our heads either yes or no. If we both agree, that’ll be our answer. If not, we’ll figure it out later. Cool?”

  He nods in agreement. I count, and on the count of three, our heads go in different directions. He’s a yes and I’m a no. The technician giggles. “I can tell just one of you, if you’d prefer. As long as he thinks he can keep it a secret.” I glare at Blake to see if he believes he’s capable of keeping a secret from me.

  “You know what you could do?” the student asks.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “My sister’s husband kept the sex of their baby a secret and revealed it to her and her family the day of their baby shower. She was having a boy. They had a pink and yellow cake. As she cut it down the center, it revealed blue cake, indicating she was having a son,” she explains.

  I absolutely love the idea of having a reveal shower. “That’s a great idea. If Blake promises not to tell me, you can tell him,” I announce.

  “I won’t tell her,” he promises.

  She plays around with the babies until she finds their special parts. She nods Blake over to her side and whispers their gender into his ear. Blake’s smile takes over his entire face. His cheeks squish his eyes shut, and he’s blushing from happiness. Blake’s not a man who blushes, and this lady’s clearly made his day. Now, I want to know why he’s so happy. He’s not supposed to show emotion. He’s never expressed if he preferred a boy over a girl or vice versa; he only asks for healthy babies.

  “Tell me,” I demand.

  “Oh, no, baby, you have to wait.” Okay, we both know I can get the answer out of him, but I can’t do it in front of these women.

  I turn my attention to the technician who’s prepping that damn plastic, rocket-sized wand. “Tell me. I want to know,” I tell her.

  “Please, don’t put me between you two. Y’all had an agreement. This is between the two of you,” she replies, rolling a condom down the massive sensor.

  “What are you doing with that?” I ask, eyeing the woman like she’s suddenly grown horns.

  “We need to check your cervix, and this gets a better view,” she informs me.

  “I know what it does, but I had it the last time I was here,” I tell her, agitatedly.

  “Yes, I’m aware. However, with your history, and since you’re carrying twins, we need to make sure your cervix is holding up.” She positions the wand between my legs and waits for me to give her the okay before probing me. I nod and tell her to go ahead. I toss my head back and close my eyes as I wait for her to finish, but this time is longer than the last. “Do you feel that?” she asks, concern masking her voice.

  “Feel what? The pressure from the torpedo you�
�re moving around? Yes. It’s kind of hard not to,” I reply.

  Blake stands and makes his way in front of her monitor. He eyes the screen and bites his lip. His jaw tightens, and he closes his eyes as if he’s thinking, maybe even praying. “Besides the pressure from the wand, do you feel anything else? Any cramps?” she asks again.

  I shake my head and turn to Blake. “B, what’s wrong?” He doesn’t answer. He holds his finger up and jogs out of the room. “Okay, y’all are making me nervous. Is it the babies?” I ask, my voice becoming strangled as I think of the possibility of losing one of them.

  “No, the babies are fine. Just lie back and relax,” she insists. I can’t relax, not with the fear I saw in Blake’s face as he rushed out of here.

  When Blake returns, he’s with a doctor. Well, I assume that’s what he is. He’s wearing a long, white lab coat, and to the left is his name followed by fancy letters, which I’m assuming represents his specialty. The technician stands as the doctor puts on his gloves. He stands by my feet and takes the wand into his hands. His eyes wander the screen as he scrunches his brows, causing me to become extremely nervous.

  “Can someone please tell me what’s going on? I’m the patient, in case everyone’s forgotten. Check the chart, Allie Anderson. Yup, I’m the one housing these bad boys and silently freaking because none of you will tell me what’s happening.” He removes the wand and urges me to sit up.

  “I apologize, but neither of them is privileged to tell you what’s happening on this screen. Allie, you’re having contractions. They’re mild and aren’t strong enough for you to feel them, but they’re strong enough that they’re affecting your cervix.” He pauses and demonstrates what’s happening to my cervix with his hands. He brings his hands together and points his fingers to the ground, and then slightly spreads open the heels of his hands. “Your cervix is beginning to funnel, and we don’t want this to happen. I’m going to send you up to labor and delivery, have them put you on some monitors, and chart the strength and frequency of your contractions,” he informs me, with kindness in his voice.

  Nervously, I nod and agree. When the techs and doctors leave the room, Blake helps me off the table. Once my feet are on the ground, he wraps me in his arms and kisses the top of my head. He then lifts my face and captures my mouth with his. He kisses me tenderly; assuring me everything’s going to be okay.

  Once we’re settled in our room, they hook me up to the appropriate monitors while Blake calls Mom to inform her that I’ve been admitted. She immediately freaks out, thinking I’m in labor, but Blake calms her down and explains that I’m here for observation. She tells Blake that she’s clocking out early and will be up in a few minutes, but she decides to finish her shift after he reminds her that he has things under control. This isn’t the first time he’s had to remind Mom what he does for a living. She’s just being a typical mom and worrying about her baby girl.

  After two hours of being hooked up to the monitors, Dr. Wilters comes in to give us an update. He tells me I’m having irregular contractions, and my cervix is more incompetent than he believed it was. “Allie, what I’d like to do it give you a few shots of Terbutaline which will hopefully stop the contractions you’re having. Also, we need to do a cervical cerclage; that’s where we go in and stitch your cervix closed. Do you have any questions?” he asks.

  Uh, yeah, lots of them. “Is there any harm to the babies if I have the procedure?”

  He nods. “As with any procedure, there are risks. However, I will say that the benefits outweigh the risk in your situation,” he expresses.

  “I don’t want to put them in harm’s way, not even a little,” I tell him. If there’s even the slightest chance that something can happen to either of the babies, I don’t want to have it done.

  Blake bends down and stares me directly in the eyes. “Baby, you’re having this done,” he orders.

  I open my mouth to disagree, but his fingers clasp my lips together. “No, just listen. If you don’t have the stitch, the babies will come, and they won’t survive. They’re too small, and their lungs aren’t even close to being mature. You trust me, yeah?” I nod, because I do. I trust him with my life, our lives. “Then you know I won’t let anything happen to you or our babies, and I wouldn’t encourage you to have this done. If I thought for one second you or our babies would be in any danger, I wouldn’t stand for it,” he promises, kissing the bridge of my nose.

  I look to Dr. Wilters and agree to have the procedure. He goes through the possible risks, and I almost reconsider it, but I trust Blake. And if I tried to run out of here, I’m positive Blake would hold me down and place the stitch himself. Dr. Wilters tells me they’re going to give me the injection of Terbutaline and continue to monitor the babies and my contractions for the next several hours. As long as the medication stops the contractions and they remain nonexistent, he’ll proceed with the cerclage. I sign all the paperwork to give consent for treatment, and then the nurse comes in and administers the injection.

  It’s early in the evening when my mom finally arrives. Blake and I’ve been flipping through the television channels, all twenty of them, but of course nothing’s on. He’s been by my side the entire time, rubbing my belly and talking to the babies, telling them they need to chill out and bake a little longer.

  Mom rushes to my side and bends down to place a kiss on my forehead. “Sorry it took so long; apparently a sinus infection is an emergency,” she complains. “So, what’s going on?” she asks, looking to Blake for answers. He stands and offers her his chair, but she declines.

  “She has an incompetent cervix, and it’s shortening too early. They’ve given her some medication to stop the contractions, and so far it’s working. Dr. Wilters’ going to stitch her cervix after clinic, which should be sometime soon,” Blake informs her.

  She brings her mouth to my belly and whispers, “You stinkers scared me to death.” She gives two kisses and pulls out her cell phone. “You can go if you want. Blake’s here and I’ll probably pass out after the surgery anyway. I’m exhausted. Plus, I’m starvin’ and they won’t give me anything to eat,” I pout, hoping she’ll sneak me in some candy just as she did when I was in labor with Lacy.

  She winks and digs through her purse. “Oh no, don’t think about it Lucille. She can’t eat, and you know how dangerous it is if she does,” he argues.

  Mom huffs and glares at Blake. The two of them glare at each other as if they’re in a competition to see who’ll blink first. “Fine,” Mom groans.

  “Thank you,” Blake says, letting out a satisfied grin.

  “Fine, dammit. But can I at least have some ice chips?” I ask, puckering my lips in an attempt to persuade Blake.

  “You can suck those beautiful lips of yours right back in. My answer’s still no.” I push my lips out further, roll my bottom lip out and sadly bat my eyes. “No, dammit! Don’t try to make me feel guilty, babe. You know I would do anything for you, but no. Even though I believe everything will go smoothly, I’m not taking any chances. So please, stop.”

  And not a moment too soon; the nurse and transport team come in and wheel me to the OR. They prep and administer local anesthesia to lessen the discomfort. “Allie, it’s very important that you remain as still as possible. The anesthesia will mask most of the pain, but you may still experience some discomfort. You may feel some pinching and mild cramping, but nothing severe. If you do, tell us immediately,” Dr. Wilters advises.

  Blake’s standing by my face with his hands running through my hair. Every so often, he bends to whisper how much he loves me, kisses my cheek, and evaluates Dr. Wilters as he works. It doesn’t take long before he’s finished and I’m back in my room.

  “How are you feeling? Are you having any cramps or discomfort?” Dr. Wilters inquires.

  “No, sir,” I answer.

  “Great. Thankfully, neither of your amniotic sacs was protruding, which is good. I believe you have a chance of carrying them close to term as long as you follow my o
rders. We’re going to keep you overnight to make sure your contractions don’t start again and you don’t have complications from the procedure. I don’t believe you will because everything went as planned, but we can never be too cautious. Also, I’m going to have the nurse give you a steroid shot tonight and another one tomorrow morning. The steroids can give off a signal, alerting the babies it’s time to come. Now, this doesn’t mean they’ll come or that you’ll go into labor. We’ve discovered that the steroids can help mature their lungs. I’ll be in to check on you before clinic in the morning,” he announces. I nod as Blake shakes his hand and thanks him for taking care of his family. I like the sound of him staking a claim over us.

  Seventeen

  ~Wyatt~

  My hearing was pushed out to the end of the month. Two weeks, my ass; it’s been four weeks since the last hearing, and I’m just now getting the DNA test. I walk into the testing center, and as soon as I’m through the doors, I almost fall to my knees. Sitting in Dr. Ruben’s lap is the most beautiful, blue-eyed beauty I’ve ever laid eyes on. She’s breathtaking, just like her mother. Eyes blue as the sky, long dark curls bouncing around her face, and olive skin. My princess. “Lacy?” I bend down to one knee and spread my arms, hoping she’ll run to me, but she doesn’t. She turns around and snuggles her face into Dr. Ruben’s chest. He pulls her hair aside and whispers something into her ear. Lacy turns her face and looks to me bashfully with her hands under her chin, and she’s chewing her bottom lip just as Allie does.

  Dr. Ruben stands and places Lacy on the floor. Then, he takes her hand and leads her to me. I remain in my position with my knee to the floor, my eyes on Lacy, as he squats to introduce us. “Lacy, say hello to Mr. Cooper. He’s one of Daddy’s patients,” he says.

  That’s a kick to the balls. I’m her fucking daddy, not him. “No, you can call me Wyatt.” What I really want to say is, no, you can call me daddy. I’m your daddy. She clings to Dr. Ruben’s leg and eyes me curiously.