Page 142 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

“Oh, God. Her water broke.” The words cut through the silence, a feminine voice strained and panicked, starkly contrasting with its usual bright and cheerful tone.

“Katia?” Angelo’s voice trembled with uncertainty, searching for answers amid the sudden chaos.

“Between her damn legs, Angelo! Something’s happening,” Katerina interjected sharply, her voice oddly detached and almost clinical, a stark departure from her usual warmth and compassion, sending shivers of unease through the room.

She felt a cool trickle running down her bare legs, the unmistakable sensation of amniotic fluid slipping away, confirming Katerina’s observation.

Crap. This was a new dress, too.

“Fuck, no. No, no, this can’t be happening. I can’t—please, I can’t fucking lose them. Either of them.” Angelo’s voice was filled with desperation, and she might have laughed at the absurdity of it all, if only everything didn’t seem so distant.

Another dull ache struck, a relentless rhythm of discomfort that doubled her over, pulling her back to the harsh reality of her situation.

She had drifted, detached from reality, shielded by her mind from the unbearable truth of her father’s actions. But dealing with him would have to wait.

“Call an ambulance!” she shouted, her voice hoarse but determined. Fear clawed at her chest. How long had she been lost in her panic? She needed help—her baby needed help.

Please, let my baby be okay.

The next thirty minutes was a dizzying blur of frantic voices, hurried movements, and a torrent of suffocating emotions.

Angelo, his face pale with worry, insisted on driving her to the University of Washington Medical Center. Allison’s cries of pain pierced the air, each one sharper than the last as relentless contractions gripped her.

The drive felt like an eternity, her anxiety mounting with every bump and swerve. She endured the agonizing contractions, but what terrified her most was the increasing pressure—a sinister sign she couldn’t ignore.

Her mind raced, flashing back to the hours she’d spent studying the complications of pregnancy in a desperate attempt to avoid her mother’s fate. Now, with unmistakable symptoms and a ruptured amniotic sac, the horrifying reality set in: she was likely in preterm labor, and every second felt like a ticking time bomb.

Her baby girl was barely past twenty-seven weeks, far too early for a safe arrival. Normally pragmatic and grounded in logic, Allison found the thought of losing her baby unbearable. The fear gnawed at her, a relentless ache twisting her heart and making it hard to breathe. The emptiness of such a loss, the shattered dreams and hopes, was a darkness she couldn’t confront, looming over her like an oppressive shadow.

In her desperation, she complained. She grumbled about the unyielding traffic that turned each minute into an eternity. She vented about the oblivious people moving in slow motion, unaware of her escalating panic. She cursed the weather, the oppressive gray clouds, and the drizzling rain that only added to the gloom weighing down her heart. Each complaint was a lifeline, a desperate attempt to anchor her mind to something other than the terrifying reality unfolding.

If she didn’t keep her mind occupied, she knew she would spiral into shock again, her body betraying her when she needed to be strong for her baby girl. The stakes were too high; if she lost control, her angel would be in real danger. The fear was a monster lurking at the edges of her thoughts, and her frantic complaints were the only weapon she had to keep it at bay.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, the night was eerily quiet as Angelo’s sleek car sped into the emergency entrance, its tires screeching to a halt. Panic etched across his face, Angelo leaped out and raced to the passenger side. He flung the door open, revealing Allison hunched over in the seat, her face contorted in pain, sweat glistening on her forehead.

“Help! Someone help us!” he yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.

Almost immediately, two paramedics who had been nearby—likely on a break—dropped their coffees and sprinted toward the car. They assessed the situation with trained eyes, Allison’s heart pounding harder with every second. One of them, a tall woman with a calming presence, spoke gently but urgently, likely recognizing her distress. “Ma’am, we’re going to get you inside. Everything’s going to be okay.”

I hope you’re right.

The paramedics carefully lifted her out of the car, her swollen belly making it clear she was pregnant. She cried out in pain, clutching her abdomen. “It’s too early, it’s too early,” she gasped between labored breaths.

The paramedics exchanged a glance, understanding passing between them. “She’s in preterm labor,” the male paramedic said, his voice calm but urgent. They swiftly placed her on a stretcher that a nurse had wheeled out, and began pushing her toward the entrance with long, purposeful strides.

No, no, no. It’s too early for her.

The automatic doors of the emergency room whooshed open, revealing a bustling hive of activity. Nurses and doctors, alerted by Angelo’s frantic call, were already assembling with equipment at the ready. The bright fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow on the scene, illuminating the controlled chaos. Allison’s personal chaos nested inside her, incubating and spreading like a virus, infecting everything in its path.

It’s too early, too early. She won’t make it. She’s not ready.

She heard the paramedics describe her condition, but it barely registered.

“Preterm labor, approximately twenty-seven weeks,” they called out as she was rushed in. “Contractions are less than two minutes apart. She needs immediate attention.”

“Help her, please!” Angelo exclaimed in desperation, somewhere close to Allison, although not visible to her.

A nurse with kind eyes and a steady hand stepped forward to take Allison’s vital signs as her stretcher was guided down the corridor toward the maternity ward. “Hang in there, sweetie, we’re going to take good care of you,” she soothed, though her movements were brisk and efficient.

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