Page 30 of Doctor Daddy Dilemma

“I’m sleeping,” I growled, but the door swung open anyway and Ella appeared in the doorway with a balloon.

“Thought I’d check on you.” She smiled happily and walked right into my room without an invitation. Who the heck did she even think she was?

“Why did you come here?” My snappy retort made her glare at me with a motherly expression.

“Well, someone has to check on you. You’re so nasty to everyone at the office that they’re all relieved for a few days off of work—paid, by the way. You’re welcome. If I told them they had a week off with no pay, you wouldn’t have a staff.” Ella set the balloon weight on my tray table and shook her head at me.

“I didn’t ask for your help or your pity, and I sure as hell don’t want you visiting me.” There was the familiar fiery temper and the accompanying chest tension, though it was much better than it had been for days. If low potassium did all this, I was glad I’d come here, but I may have been better off to just let my heart stop. This miserable existence seemed futile.

“Well, you didn’t have to ask, and you can be nasty if you want but I’m not giving up.” Ella crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. “You’re stuck with me. So get used to it.”

I covered my face with an arm and tried to let the tension out of my neck and shoulders but it was permanent now. I didn’t know how to relax anymore. I’d have to fire this woman to make her leave me alone, but if I did that I’d be well and truly alone. And that was something I didn’t even want to consider.

Charlie’s vanishing had torn my heart out, but it was that story that sealed our fate. I’d never forgive her for that, though my heart desperately wanted her anyway. I’d be the only man on the planet foolish enough to take her back if she waltzed through that door right now. I was better off with Ella clucking about and ordering me around. At least I’d never get emotionally attached and my business would begin to function again.

“Just let me sleep.” My eyes remained firmly shut and my arm still draped over my face. I didn’t hear her leave, but she didn’t speak again.

When they let me out of here, I needed a drink. My brain was too awake for its own good. I was already beginning to think about Charlotte Martinez all over again and that was a very bad thing.

23

CHARLIE

It was a false alarm, I just knew it, but I followed Mom into the emergency room at the hospital. Following my thirty-eight-week checkup the doctor told me I was in labor and to go to the hospital, but I had no pain. Labor was supposed to be wretchedly painful and unbearable, but the small ache in my lower back was the only minor annoyance I had.

“This is such a waste of time. I have so many things to get done at the apartment still,” I grumbled as I trudged behind my mother who’d only done this once before so she blindly trusted the doctors. Of course, I’d never done it before, but it didn’t even feel like labor.

“You are moody today, Charlotte,” Mom chided. If Dad were in here he’d be telling her to be nice. I’d been moody for two days with lower back pain and I’d hardly slept. When I asked Mom to come to San Francisco for a few days to help me because my back hurt so badly, I never expected she’d stay until I delivered, but Dad insisted. Now he was parking the car while I was being checked in.

“Of course I’m moody. I have to put the crib together still, organize all the baby supplies, and make sure I have everything I need. I don’t even have my bag.”

Mom walked up to the counter and a pretty nurse smiled at her. “What can I do for the two of you today?” The nurse’s warm complexion and blonde hair were mismatched, but not horribly so. I found myself too grumpy to even speak, so I stood with one hand on my stomach which was hard as a rock, and the other on my lower back which needed a good soak in a hot tub. I couldn’t wait to give birth and enjoy the hot tub in my building.

“This is my daughter Charlotte Martinez. Dr. Gibbons sent her over. She’s in labor.” Mom was altogether too cheery for this event. Besides the fact that I most definitely was not in labor. The doctor had clearly gotten it wrong.

The nurse looked up at me skeptically and puckered her lips. “Alright, Ms. Martinez, let me look you up in the computer and…” She typed something and then said, “Aha, yes. Dr. Gibbons has already sent the order for admittance. We’ll get you a wheelchair and take you up to maternity in a few minutes. Go ahead and have a seat.”

I saw the look in her eye. She didn’t believe I was in labor either. Most women were screaming and cussing at their partners or anyone who would listen. I had a mild sardonic expression and the attitude to match it as I followed Mom to the waiting area where we sat down.

“You know I have to be at work early tomorrow for taping. They want those cooking segments to be perfect, and now I’m going to be exhausted. They won’t let me leave this place for hours now.” Slumping into the seat, I felt immediate relief from the back pain. I let my eyes shut and sighed away some of the frustration. This pregnancy had put a toll on my happy-go-lucky personality, and today more than others I was having a difficult time staying positive.

“If the doctor says it’s baby time, then we’re not leaving.” Mom could be stubborn when she wanted to be but so could I. I learned it from her anyway.

A few minutes later, Dad walked in with the car keys in hand and an exasperated expression. Clearly he agreed with me too, that something wasn’t quite right. His experience with labor and delivery was chaotic and intense. I’d heard the story at least thirty times over the few months. He was probably confused that I wasn’t crying or shouting.

“Car is parked… Where is the doctor? Why aren’t we in a room yet?” Dad sat beside me, perched on the edge of the seat and looking around frantically. Sweat beaded on his forehead. While San Fran was much cooler than El Paso, especially in May, so the perspiration told me it was stress-induced. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his forehead.

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m not even in pain. This isn’t labor. They have it wrong,” I grumbled again and again, but no one listened to me. Not even when they hooked me up to monitors and forced me to stay in bed in the labor room when all I wanted to do was pee.

Mom sat across the room doing a crossword puzzle she brought along. Dad paced at the foot of the bed asking me every two minutes if I needed anything. I wanted to go home to get work done but I was trapped. I lay on my side staring at my phone. I had already called Mr. Lewis, who was quite literally the best boss ever, to let him know I’d be later in the morning than I thought. I had to explain the whole thing and even he believed I wouldn’t be in for the shoot. No one understood that I wasn’t in labor.

“Sure you don’t want something, honey? I know they said you can’t eat but I’ll go find you some fish tacos if you want.” Dad crouched at my bedside and played the part of the doting father yet again and it made me smile. The idea of him smuggling contraband into this hospital to make me smile warmed my heart.

“Thanks, Daddy, but you can just buy me tacos when we’re on the way home later. You don’t have to waste the gas.” As it was, fuel was over five dollars a gallon and their rental car was already costing them fifty dollars a day.

“I want you to be comfortable.” He pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes, and I realized how lucky I was.

In this moment I would have liked the man who got me pregnant to be here to support me. It would have been nice if Lex hadn’t turned out to be everything people said he was, but I’d made my choice. I was in this alone now, and while my heart wasn’t quite healed, and I still felt hurt by it all, I was moving on. Having my dad here meant the world to me.

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