by Ava Claire
The tears that were swimming in her eyes dashed down her cheeks as she let go of my foot and reached for my stomach instead. I couldn't blame my blurred vision on anything but tears of my own as she leaned in close and whispered something to the little one. I picked up on a handful of the words.
Love.
Soon.
Safe.
What more could our baby hope for than a grandma who whispered sweet nothings to them in the womb? What more could I ask for than a mother who drove me utterly crazy but showed up, no matter what, time after time?
I grinned through the discomfort as she wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed me so hard that she put a whole new spin on 'love you to death'.
She let me go and I took a breath, swiping my eyes. I could tell from the way her lips slightly parted that she was waiting for me to fill in the blanks. The question in her silence that would have made lesser men blush, but my husband was just keeping his distance, not wanting to touch the subject of 'why' with a ten foot pole.
I cut my eyes at him, making a mental note to comment on the fact that women were truly the strongest beings every created. We pushed tiny humans out of our bodies. We answered our mother's prying questions while our mates—able to slay tigers, build fires and provide (but heck, we could slay tigers, slam two rocks together and take care of business ourselves)—were rendered utterly speechless by their mother-in-laws.
There was no way I was gonna tell her the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but I figured a vague, overarching answer that pointed the finger at myself would suffice.
"I fainted because I've been overdoing it, Mom." I shrugged my shoulders. "Must be that stubborn Montgomery DNA."
She clucked her tongue disapprovingly, wagging her finger at me. "Leila Rae Montgomery, you do not get to blame this on genetics. You can't think about yourself anymore. There's the baby-"
"I know there's the baby," I protested, wishing I'd just kept my mouth shut. And from her razor thin lips, she didn't appreciate the interruption.
"Uh huh," she picked up where she left off, walking over to the lounge area. To Jacob. Clearly, he wasn't off the hook either. "And you. You're supposed to be making sure she takes it easy! And not at this..." She threw her hands up as she struggled to come up with the words. "This Club Med place. And where is the doctor? I want to hear all is well directly from the horse's mouth."
She was in Jacob's orbit, which could be a good or bad thing. I was surprised my blood pressure wasn't sending the full staff in the room. I was so on edge, waiting for him to snap at her, which would get her riled up all over again, and leave me stuck in the middle.
When Jacob spoke, telling my mother it was gonna be okay, his voice was gentle as the nurse's had been when we burst through the revolving doors of the emergency room. I was pulled back to those moments, cradled in his arms, both of us instantly forgetting that I was feeling okay when we were surrounded by the craziness that is the ER. Wailing babies that made me stroke my belly, trying to comfort my own before it even took its first breath. Harried medical staff with frantic and jerky movements, calling out codes and medical jargon that made my head spin. Families biting their nails as they waited for news about their loved ones.
And then a nurse had appeared out of the chaos, literally rocking a halo because of the glow of the fluorescent lights overhead. When her baby blue eyes flitted from my face to Jacob's a couple of times, our identities clicking in place, I’d rolled my eyes to the ceiling, silently offering up my second prayer in less than 24 hours.
Please don't be a fan of PR, Jacob doesn't have a free hand to give you an autograph.
But the words out of her mouth weren't, "You're The Whitmores, aren't you?!"
If she did recognize us, all signs of it were scrubbed from her face quickly as she hustled to the admissions desk and pushed a wheelchair back to us.
"Everything is going to be okay," she’d assured us, her tone almost out of place in the sea of madness. But there was something in her eyes that reminded me to breathe in and out. Something that convinced me that it wasn't just a line she fed to people, whether the outlook was grim or not.
I gave my head a hearty shake, wrenching my mind from those terrifying moments.
Back to the room. Back to safety. Back to now.
I cocked my head to the side, like I was a researcher observing unnatural phenomena unfold before my very eyes. Jacob and my mother were standing side by side, and their faces weren't pinched like it was taking everything in them not to lose it.
They were...smiling.
"...we had this amazing nurse when we arrived," Jacob's deep voice rumbled back into focus. "She made sure we didn't get lost in the shuffle-"
"And the doctor?" Mom piped. "Hopefully she gave Leila a stern talking to about overdoing it. Not that she'd listen to her or anyone else." She nudged Jacob with her elbow, giving him a conspiratorial wink that reminded me of when they first met and she was her usual, larger than life self. It made me smile.
"Dr. McGregor did her best, but even a doctor's admonishment barely got an apology from your daughter," Jacob chuckled, glancing over in my direction with love gleaming in his eyes. Giving me a look that took me back to our honeymoon.
I stuck my tongue out at both of them, tapping out a lazy rhythm on my belly that reminded me of the island. A song drenched in pina colada, ukuleles, sunscreen, and love.
How did I get so lucky?
Chapter Five
My eyelids felt like they were being held down by anchors, but there was no fighting the fact that I was no longer asleep. Sunlight dipped between my eyelashes, forcing my eyelids to flutter.
But there was something else that made me shift, turning towards consciousness, towards the new day. I felt his presence burning as hot as the sun, his face hovering mere inches from mine.
My mother called this place Club Med, but she was wrong. Club Med would have a bed for two, and I’d be tangled up in Jacob, warmth drifting in the room, the salty ocean breeze wafting around us as I woke up slowly, nestled in his arms like we were born for this. As swanky as the hospital suite was, it didn’t compare to a spa. Or heck, to our bed.
Don’t whine, Leila. It could be worse.
I could have been waking up alone. Instead, Jacob was hovering over me like the World’s Sexiest Guardian Angel, pretending I didn’t look a mess with sleep in my eyes and the chalky trail of dried up drool on my cheek.
I swallowed my yawn and rubbed my eyes, his figure going dark as my vision adjusted, still slumbering along with my achy limbs.
“Good morning, handsome,” I mumbled.
“Good morning!”
My eyes snapped open like someone who fell asleep at the wheel, just before they swerved towards catastrophe.
Jacob nor I were morning people; the only thing that could bring a smile to our faces before 7AM was a round or two in bed before we kicked off the covers. Or caffeine.
The voice that answered me was bubbly, cotton candy flavored, and way too female to be my husband’s.
The nurse from the emergency room was standing over me, her eyes as wide as mine as she tried to explain why I shouldn’t be freaking out.
“Mrs. Whitmore, I’m sorry I woke you-”
I pressed a hand to my chest. I could feel every rapid-fire beat of my heart pounding through my gown. “It’s okay-”
“No it isn’t,” she cut in, her face crestfallen. “Not in your condition.”
I was all the way awake, thanking my lucky stars that I didn’t rope the poor woman’s neck and pull her in for a kiss, thinking I was laying one on Jacob.
I almost told her so, since the calm, cool, and collected nurse from our arrival had been replaced by someone fragile who busied herself with my vitals like she had to distract herself to hold back the tears. “Really, it’s okay, Nurse...” I trailed off, realizing I didn’t know her name. Since her badge was clipped to her chest, I decided to hold off on adding ‘Patient Leila Whitmore leered at m
y breasts’ to my list of offenses.
“Darla,” she blurted, making a few notes on her chart and taking a breath to steady her rattling hands. She let out a nervous chuckle, slashing the air with her pen. “Not Nurse Darla. Darla McCoy. My name is Darla McCoy.” Her face was as red as mine was when I misstepped, stumbling over my words. I was used to watching people crumble in Jacob’s presence, but this was a first.
She seemed intimidated by me. And from the nervous glances she stole at my belly, the baby made her a little nervous, too.
I decided to walk right past the awkward moment and held out my hand. “Nice to officially meet you.”
She gave it a timid shake. “Likewise.”
She went back to the task at hand and I watched her, trying to read her. Trying to figure her out. When we met, her platinum blonde locks had been piled on top of her head. That kind of hairstyle would have spelled disaster for me, with curls and frizz doing all they could to break free from the rubber band. Darla didn’t have a hair out of place, her makeup precise and flawless, like she was an actor on some medical drama, too beautiful to exist in real life. Her aqua eyes had cut from Jacob to me back in the emergency room—not in a rude manner, but in a way that reminded me that while she looked like she belonged on a TV screen, she knew what she was doing, and it had nothing to do with a script.
Today was a different story. Her flaxen locks hung in waves around her face. She was either a professional with a makeup brush or she watched tutorials. I used to be intimidated when I was so close to a woman that would have been right up Jacob’s alley. But that was before Rachel. Before I realized that I could hold my own...and Jacob only had eyes for me.
Still, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand when she pivoted back to the machine, licking my sleep chapped lips and pulling my body to a more flattering angle. “Are you my nurse for today? I hope so—Jacob and I could both kick back and relax knowing we’re in good hands.”
Her chuckle this time was more natural and when she peered over her shoulder at me, the red had calmed in her cheeks. “That’s sweet. It helps when you have an awesome patient and family to work with.”
I cringed. “I bet you have some war stories.” Not to mention I wasn’t sure just how awesome we really were. According to TMZ, a record number of paparazzi had attempted to infiltrate the hospital, hoping for the first picture of the Whitmore baby. For pop culture enthusiasts, it was intriguing, amusing even, but I knew for the staff, it was anything but. Having a high profile patient meant they had to be even more vigilant, adding to their already heavy workload. Not to mention, as nice as this room was, I was in a separate wing of the hospital, forcing the medical staff to take the scenic route. Away from their home bass. Away from patients who were worse off.
“I probably seem like a such a diva,” I winced, embarrassed by my accommodations. The luxury.
She turned back to me, tucking her clipboard in the crook of her arm. “Not even close. Last year, when Roz Clayton rolled through the doors with her entourage, camera crew, and ego, we all had to walk on egg shells.” She rolled her eyes to they ceiling. “And we had to refresh her room with lavender every morning because she needed to feel at one with herself or some new age mumbo jumbo.”
“I can only imagine,” I whistled, smiling at her when she fluffed my pillow. Roz Clayton was all the rage a few years ago when she sashayed onto the set of one of those housewives shows. Most of her conversations consisted of beeps because she cursed like a sailor—and the audience loved it.
She found yoga and started cursing less and shilling diet tea on Instagram and her star faded. She held tight to what was left of her fame and rode it to a TV special about her home birth, which turned into a traditional one when complications arose. The ratings were okay, but it was clear that her audience preferred her Rated R. “I hope they gave you all a raise or a vacation after dealing with that woman.”
That earned a hearty chuckle from Darla. “Celebrity patients are the cost of living in this city and most celebrities come with baggage...and I’m not talking about Louis Vuitton.”
Her joke made a smile tug at my lips, but it brought memories of my own flooding back. I thought about Rachel using her broken heart as an excuse to wreak havoc on me and Jacob. And while she was the first name that came to mind, trying to create a fissure in my relationship, she was far from the only star studded person that left me reeling. Asking myself how people blessed with so much could be so unhappy.
I absentmindedly had folded my sheet into a fortune cookie. I stopped fidgeting but when I turned my attention to Darla, I saw she had the same faraway look that was plastered on my face a moment ago. The kind of look that said you were essentially there in a physical sense, but your mind was a million miles away. Replaying some memory like a train wreck you can’t tear your eyes from.
“You know, not all celebrities are a headache. You guys are a piece of cake. I knew someone once who-" Darla stopped short, biting down on her bottom lip so fiercely that my own hurt. She hadn't even gotten to the meat of her story and I knew that she wasn't just physically deflecting my sympathetic gaze, but gearing up to give me a story that was packaged like it was about someone else, but it was really an autobiography.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, her lips moving, but whatever she was saying was for her ears only. Hey eyelids opened a sliver, like she was peeking to make sure that I hadn't seen anything.I quickly went back to making paper art with my sheet.
I almost changed the subject altogether, but she beat me to the mic. "I had a thing with a famous person once...” She tossed a glance towards the lounge area where Jacob was sound asleep. Satisfied, she turned back to me, scanning my face quizzically like I was a puzzle she was trying to figure out.
After her being all business and efficiency in the emergency room, this other side, the human side, had me pressing the button to raise my bed a few inches. I knew most of her patients probably saw her as little more than the woman that came in to poke and prod periodically. The disciplinarian that wouldn't sneak food or people in, a constant reminder that they weren't in control. I wanted to hear her story, not only because it distracted from the unknown ending of my own. Taking my mind off all the ways that my stubbornness could have had real consequences for our baby. As someone who knew what it was like to be invisible, especially when you were dating the hottest man alive, I wouldn't give her the tight, uncomfortable grin that said we were quickly approaching 'Overshare Territory' and should turn back.
She righted herself, a different kind of look washing over her face. I wondered if she'd left that ellipses there on purpose, expecting that I'd be like the others and come up with some excuse to get out of hearing the rest of the story.
"If you want to talk about it, I'm here," I said gently. After all she'd done for us, literally swooping in to save the day, it was the least I could do. "And if not-"
"It was just one night," she blurted out, her words coming out in a single breath. Like she was holding it in and relieved she could finally exhale. She backtracked in her mind, then literally took a step backwards, her cheeks flushing pink.
I couldn't help but smile. To see the parallels between our stories. Jacob and I had started off as this sexual, physical thing. I carried a lot of guilt about the contract, about how people would treat me if they knew how we began. At the end of the day, we were two adults who fell in lust, then in love...and to be frank, it was no one else’s business. If someone wanted to waste their time being judgmental, that was on them. If I wanted to perseverate on what they thought about me instead of living my life on my own terms, well, that would be on me.
Darla’s bright eyes rounded, along with her lips. "Usually I say that and women are all aghast that I'd have a one night stand."
I shrugged my shoulders. "I think you only get one life and you should live it how you see fit."
"Well, how I see fit would have been for the guy to call me up afterwards," she said with a bitter chuckle, pawing
at her hair uncomfortably. "To have the happily ever after. Like you." Her nostrils flared. "He shut that story down as soon as he got what he wanted from me."
That made me blush, turning back to fussing with my sheets. Feeling the happily ever after she spoke of in my bones. Even though Jacob was dead to the world, I could still feel his presence. Knew that he'd always be there for me and our baby. What we had was special...and I wanted to go back and slap myself for the moments I took our love for granted. I made a silent pact with myself that I would do just that, if I ever found myself questioning what the catch was. Or waiting for the other shoe to drop because it was impossible for some average girl from the ‘burbs to lead an extraordinary life with an extraordinary love, unless there was a catch.
It was cliche, but I waited until she stopped pretending she was reading something on my chart and shifted her eyes back to mine before I told her what I would say to Megan (or vice versa), after some douchebag mangled her heart. "You'll get your happily ever after, Darla. The assholes we cross paths with are just speed bumps on the way to the love we deserve."
I was no love guru; Jacob and I had our fair share of ups and downs in that department, many of which due to my stubborn inability to let him in and trust that he chose me, everyday, and would continue to choose me. That he saw something in me that I didn't always see in myself. That love was a two way street, more than words to be said out of habit and routine. That we put the whole 'til death do us part' to the test with our run ins with The Eichmanns.
But Darla was looking at me like I'd just come down from the mountain, with a direct line to the person that hands out happily ever afters. Her eyes were drowning in tears, her chin rattling like a washing machine on the spin cycle. "You're so kind." She dipped her chin to her chest, her next words barely audible. "I wasn't expecting that."
Before I could ask what she meant, a commotion in the hall had us both turning our attention to the door. I gasped when a thud echoed through the room like a gunshot. It sent Darla flying to the door...and Jacob flying back into the main room. To my side.
