“Oh my gosh, you look just like Eva,” the redhead said while grimacing and grabbing her bulging abdomen.
“Who’s Eva?”
“My twin.”
“But who are you?”
“Lacy Gardner, and I think I’m in labor. But it’s too soon. I can’t deal with a third twin right now.”
“A third twin?” Could the day go any more haywire?
“I think we have a long story to share, but ouch!” Lacy ground out the words while clutching her protruding abdomen as she squinted her blue eyes tight. “Not now. Ahhh!”
“How early are you?”
“Four weeks.”
Clicking back into action, thinking like a nurse, Brynne was able to drop the thousand questions in her head to help a woman in need. “Rory, hon, call 911. Hold on, Lacy. Breathe through the contraction—go hee-hee-hee now, and hoo when it lets up. I’m going to get a mat for you to lie on so I can check and see how far into labor you really are.” For no logical reason, Brynne grabbed the stranger and hugged her tight, which seemed like hugging herself. “I’m here for you, and you’re going to be okay. Let me close the store and lock the door first,” she said, focusing on one task at a time while flipping the business sign to Closed just as a couple of customers approached. “Sorry! Emergency.” Then she latched the door. Lacy continued to hee-hee. Then Brynne rushed to the display of yoga books with mats next to the counter, grabbed one and ripped it open while Rory made the emergency call.
“What should I tell them?”
“Woman in labor inside the store. Tell them it’s preterm PROM.” Brynne lunged and slid across the linoleum to where she’d left Lacy clutching the door handle, heeing and hooing near the bathroom.
“Something about a prom?” Rory repeated on the phone.
“Premature rupture of membranes!” Brynne called out. She unrolled and placed the mat on the floor where the carpet was, went back to the restroom, and helped Lacy lie down as Rory gave their location information.
“Let’s have a look.” No way could she deal with the fact that the woman in labor was her double, not now, but there was one thing she could handle—she knew how to be an L&D nurse after eight years of experience. And she missed the excitement of it, though this, if it was a message from above, was going a bit overboard. She helped Lacy bend her knees then lifted her dress and quickly sucked in air at what she saw. “Tell them—” Brynne focused back on Lacy “—how long were you having contractions?”
“I was having Braxton-Hicks all morning, and then they got worse this afternoon.” Obviously between contractions, Lacy was able to explain a lot, hand gestures and all.
Brynne turned to Rory. “Tell them the mother is approximately eight centimeters! Then get some fresh towels from my apartment!”
“That was labor?”
“Looks like you’ve been in labor for a few hours. Do you have a high pain tolerance or something?”
“Felt cruddy all day but—” she moaned “—eee, I’m feeling it now!” Lacy let go of a groan, which turned into a guttural growl.
The woman was clearly in transition, the final phase of the first stage of labor. “Don’t push, not yet!”
* * *
Brynne stood and wept behind the viewing room window where a baby boy she’d delivered in her bookstore rested in the newborn nursery. She tried to make sense of the last four hours but couldn’t come close. Out of the blue, a woman from another state who could be her double came to her bookstore and began labor. She’d learned the out-of-state part from Lacy’s husband as they waited for her hospital intake. When Lacy mentioned in a by-the-way manner—during labor, of all things—“you look like Eva, my twin,” Brynne had been too distracted to take it in. You mean there’s another one? The whole encounter reeked of fate, which Brynne made a habit not to believe in. But, seriously? Since that moment, the hair on her arms had raised at least a half dozen times. Unable to stop it, she shivered while viewing the tiny little guy, her fingers mindlessly smoothing down her arms.
Everything was a blur after she’d seen the baby’s head pushing its way out. On automatic pilot, she’d done everything she’d been trained to do as a labor and delivery nurse. Except without proper equipment and lighting and having to deliver a baby on the floor of a bookstore while using her personal towels to swaddle the newborn. A crazy thought struck her—she was glad she used a good fabric softener. The baby had been tiny and completely lost in the folds of the soft towel, but she needed to keep him warm. She’d held the hand of a woman she’d never met before, sobbing while Lacy held her baby for the first time on her bookstore floor. A baby boy with copper-red hair, like her own. A lot of it.
Emergency services had taken over from there, but, half-crazed from the adrenaline high of delivering a baby herself and the nonstop questions about who Lacy Gardner was and why she had been directed to the bookstore on this specific day, Brynne had pushed through the door, following the paramedic and EMT. She’d hopped into her car, suddenly grateful she’d goofed up and parked in the wrong place, then lined up behind the ambulance at the first intersection stoplight for the short drive to the hospital.
Brynne had called a man named Zack, Lacy’s husband, as instructed by Lacy as she got rolled into the ambulance. She’d told him to meet his wife at the hospital. When he explained Lacy had the car, Brynne changed her bloody top and drove to the trailhead he’d described and picked him and his daughter, Emma, up. If Lacy was right, they were relatives, and she’d just delivered his baby, and, well, she already felt like a part of something. A family? The thought nearly made her lose control of the car.
Their confounded expressions at the sight of Brynne repeated the craziest part of the whole experience. Even more than a flash delivery in a bookstore. Could someone look exactly like someone else without being related? The statements and questions began while she drove the father and daughter to the hospital.
“You look just like my stepmom,” the very talkative Emma kept saying in awe.
Zack stared at Brynne and shook his head in disbelief. “This can’t be true.”
“What?” Brynne begged to know what everyone else seemed to, still mostly in the dark and grasping for answers.
“Long story, and Lacy and Eva need to tell it to you, not me” was as much as she could get out of him.
She sighed. “You’re freaking me out, but okay. So let’s celebrate your new son!”
Now, two hours later, she stood between Emma and Zack, looking through the baby window, chill bumps flowing, while blubbering over the new life who’d weighed in at nearly five and a half pounds and four weeks premature. Emma snuggled close to her, which was strange, and Zack stood with arms folded, proudly grinning at his son.
“His name is Christopher,” Zack said. “After my father.”
“That’s a wonderful name.”
“We were supposed to leave for home tomorrow,” he said with a solidly handsome grin. The man had some great dark blond hair, too. “Looks like we’ll be sticking around some.”
“For a preemie, your boy seems healthy and strong, but the pediatricians will follow up with everything. This is a good hospital.” She glanced through the window at the NICU nurse, Eleanor, who raised a hand in greeting when she noticed Brynne. She hadn’t been back in the hospital since her mother died, and it was hard. Though seeing old work friends was kind of nice.
“We can’t thank you enough. This is definitely one for the books,” Zack said. When they’d first arrived, the doctor and nurses needed to immediately check out Lacy and the baby, who’d had a short time to bond in the ambulance on his mother’s chest. Brynne watched Emma after they’d arrived at the hospital so Zack could be with Lacy and the baby for a few minutes alone. Then, while the nurse helped Lacy freshen up in preparation for her first attempt to nurse, Zack had met Brynne and Emma at the newborn observation window, where they’d wa
tched the nurse clean up his son before sending him back to momma.
His cell whistled. “‘Where are you?’” he read the text aloud. “We better go” was all he said, Emma and Brynne knowing exactly what Lacy’s message meant. It was time for Emma to officially meet her brother.
Brynne wanted with all her heart to tag along, but she knew well this was a time for the new family to bond. Brynne was still a stranger.
Just before parting ways at the elevator, Zack turned. “Uh, how can we reach you?”
“What’s your number?” Brynne said, then texted him with her personal info before saying goodbye and taking the stairs.
Walking in a dream through the lobby, she heard her name.
“Hey, Brynne!”
It was one of her coworkers waiting for the elevator. “Samantha, hi!”
“When are you coming back?” She put her foot in the elevator to keep the door open.
“No plans yet.” Just being here again caused nostalgic pangs. Wasn’t this where she belonged?
“Thought you should know they’re training someone now.”
There was no way she could go back to the grind of being an L&D nurse and run the bookstore—oh, and get married or else! Yeah, that job was over. “Thanks for the heads-up.” Disappointment dripped over her.
“We miss you,” said the short, plump mom and ace nurse in pink-patterned scrubs.
“I miss you guys, too.” It wasn’t an obligatory response; it was sincere. “Say hi to everyone for me.”
“Will do.”
Still in a daze, she headed back to her car. As she did, another woo-woo moment made the hair on the back of her neck rise and her skin prickle. Could Lacy and Eva be extended family she’d never known about?
Mom, where are you when I need you?
* * *
Thrown by the unbelievable news of having a twin—and possibly a triplet—Brynne staggered home, which, since her college days, was above the bookstore. Mom and Rory had wanted to move in together at the house she’d once shared with her mom and Brynne was given her very first apartment—which came with its very own bookstore, no less. Jessica and Rory had used the excuse that it was cheaper to be roommates. She’d suspected what it really meant, but had decided to wait for Mom to tell her. With her illness and death, she’d never gotten the chance.
“You’re an independent young woman now,” Mom had said. Brynne remembered feeling like an adult for the first time in her life moving into this apartment. Plus, having her mother as landlord meant rent was really cheap.
She entered from the back and stopped on the first landing of the staircase, where the store stairs met up. The route to her apartment was separated by a barrier from customers, which said “Private.” Across the walkway was the second story of the bookstore, where special activities also took place. How many people got to call a bookstore their front yard?
She realized the author readings were in progress—thank you, Rory. They’d carried on in her absence, and from the looks of it, there was a great turnout. Nate, the bright business major with light umber-colored skin and the most interesting off-center zigzag part in his nearly shaved black hair, probably had a lot to do with the success. He was the one Paul wanted her to give more responsibility to.
Nate glanced up at her on the landing, and as always, his smile was contagious. Another part-time student employee, Arpita Patel, assisted Rory, passing a handout to the attendees. Her long straight black hair curtained her dark brown face, but when her large eyes noticed Brynne, they brightened. Brynne waved at both of them and gave a thumbs-up for their effort, then, pushing through the half door, tiptoed up the stairs to her apartment, unable to deal with one more thing.
Like breaking off her engagement.
Once inside, with the day’s events crashing down on her, she dropped her purse on the coffee table and crumpled onto the small living room couch. The weight of her emotions made it hard to breathe.
Curling into the fetal position, she hugged her knees to her chest and finally let out her mixed-up tears. They flowed like a broken dam. What had happened today? She’d broken her engagement, and decisions made in anger were never wise. Tears of sadness. Delivered a baby. Tears of joy. Did she have a relative she’d never known about? If so, was her mother even her mother? Tears of confusion.
After lying in that state, tears puddling on the couch for uncounted minutes, the only thing she wanted was to be held. Only Paul could ground her, but she’d broken things off. Horrible timing. She picked herself up, took a shower, threw on sweatpants and a hoodie, then headed straight to his condo. She wasn’t ready to eat humble pie, but she was definitely in need of comfort.
When he opened the door, surprise registered in his eyes, whether because of the way she appeared—she’d looked haunted and a little scared in the mirror at home—or because she’d shown up after she’d broken the engagement. She understood. Her actions were irrational. But some situations were bigger than breakups. She needed him and launched into his arms, holding him tight.
“I knew you’d come around,” he managed to say between their frantic kisses. He’d obviously misread her motive.
She stopped, held his face and stared into the eyes she trusted more than anyone else’s on earth now that her mother was gone. “I don’t want to talk or think right now.” She sounded desperate, even to herself. It didn’t seem to bother him, though. In fact, from the heated glint in his eyes, he looked ready to deliver on all counts.
Covering his mouth with hers, she kissed him like she’d die if he didn’t immediately take her to his bed. He’d obviously just showered, fresh scented from sandalwood soap, hair still damp, like hers. He returned her kisses, opening her mouth and exploring in his familiar way. Exactly what she needed, to forget everything except him. She curled her legs around his waist and he carried her to his room.
With a sigh, she got plopped onto his bed as the strength and weight of him covered her. Home. This was her safe place. In his arms, lost in the sensations from his roving fingers and kneading palms, from the flicks of his tongue at the perfect point on her neck and around her breasts.
This she could deal with tonight. Sex. Not marriage or broken engagements. And certainly not the discovery of a person who looked exactly like her.
* * *
Later, Paul held Brynne close to his chest, her hair splayed across his shoulders. He kissed the top of her head, smiling at the familiar perfume that was her shampoo, which always made him think of carnations.
Her showing up at his door after her dramatic departure from the restaurant had shocked him. She’d never done it before—just shown up—had always called first. He still cringed at what he’d done, pushing too hard. Forcing her extreme reaction. But, she was here now. One thing he knew for sure with Brynne, even when she was upset, the sex was still great. Always. “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?”
She groaned, fiddling with the patch of hair down the center of his chest, fingers tiptoeing downward for distraction. He stopped her from going further. “What’s up? You miss being a delivery nurse?”
Brynne lifted her head, nailed him with narrowed eyes, a how-did-you-know expression.
“Rory called and told me about your heroic delivery at the bookstore. She sounded just as proud as your mother used to.” She’d also mentioned something about seeing double.
Her eyes widened as her brows shot up. “I had no choice. That baby was right there.”
He squeezed her close again, and her head nestled against his neck and shoulder. “The woman came to the right store.” His lips stretched with pride. She remained quiet for several more seconds, and he spent the time feeling her heartbeat synchronize with his.
“You know how I’ve said I was lonely growing up and pretended I had sisters instead of imaginary friends?”
He nodded, waiting, letting her get around to
whatever it was that had made her escape into fiery passion only moments before. Whatever that was had now turned her to reminiscing about forgotten and possibly painful times.
“Like I always felt a part of me was missing?”
“Yes.” He gave soothing strokes across her back to encourage her to continue.
“And how I’ve always insisted I was a loner, an introvert because of being raised in a single-mom household?”
“Go on.”
“So, why would I long for sisters?”
“Maybe you’re meant to have that big family we’ve talked about.”
“You’ve talked about,” she clarified. “And don’t be so full of yourself. I thought we’d agreed to start with one baby and see how it went from there.” Though she’d often wondered if Paul or his family had heard and understood that stipulation.
He rubbed her shoulder and cuddled her tight. “We may have gotten a jump on that tonight—you were so impatient, I didn’t—”
Up came her head. “Nice try, mister, but you know as well as I do, I’m on the pill. Nothing’s happening unless I let it.”
He couldn’t help but grin. Looking into those amazing blue eyes, feeling her soft, pale skin next to his olive Italian tone, made something stir inside. He loved her so much. All he wanted was to marry her, to be her family.
“And for the record, we’re no longer engaged.”
He grabbed her buns and squeezed. “That’s debatable.”
She shook her head. “No. It isn’t.”
He went quiet, letting her stern response set in. What was the best way to handle this? If they’d really broken up, she wouldn’t have come here, and they wouldn’t have just gone nuts with each other in the sack. Right? “You used me?”
“The thing is,” she said, now up on her elbows, completely ignoring his comment. “The woman I delivered could have been me. It was like staring at myself, except being pregnant.” The hair on her arms noticeably stood, and his heart ticked quick beats. Their on-or-off engagement, depending on who said it, had nothing to do with her coming over. Tonight wasn’t about him, it was about Brynne.
The Reluctant Fiancée (The Taylor Triplets Book 3) Page 3
