Page 143 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

Too early, not ready, too early, not ready.

An obstetrician, scrubbed and ready in a pink uniform, joined the team, barking orders. “Get the fetal monitor on her and start an IV. Prepare for possible delivery.”

Allison thrashed against their hold at the woman’s words. “No! She’s not ready yet! It’s too early!” she cried out, her breathing becoming more labored.

Two nurses swiftly approached, one with a fetal monitor and the other with an IV kit. The obstetrician, a tall woman with sharp features and determined eyes, stepped closer, her expression a mix of urgency and authority. “What’s your name?”

“Please, she’s not ready—”

“I’m Dr. Montgomery. What is your name?” She insisted, her voice firm yet warm.

“Allison.”

“Allison, you need to stay calm,” Dr. Montgomery said firmly but kindly. “We have to ensure the safety of both you and your baby.”

Allison’s panic intensified at the reminder as the nurse with the IV kit tried to find a vein in her arm. She pulled away instinctively, her movements erratic.

Too early, too early, too early.

Dr. Montgomery signaled to another team member, who appeared with a small vial and syringe.

“Hold her still,” the obstetrician commanded as Angelo’s protests grew louder, demanding they release her.

“What the hell are you doing to her?” Allison looked behind Dr. Montgomery, seeing Angelo struggling to get past two security guards.

Please, please, please. She’s not ready.

The nurses tightened their grip on Allison, securing her arms and legs gently but firmly to prevent her from thrashing.

“No, please!” Allison’s voice was hoarse with desperation, tears streaming down her face. “It’s too soon. She’s not ready.”

Dr. Montgomery approached with the syringe, her movements precise. “This is just a mild sedative to help you relax. We need you calm so we can take care of you and your baby.”

As the sedative took effect, Allison’s struggles weakened. Her breathing, once ragged and panicked, began to slow. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay conscious, but the drug’s potency was overpowering.

“Good,” Dr. Montgomery murmured, nodding to the team. “Let’s get that fetal monitor on her now.”

The nurse with the monitor stepped forward, attaching the device to Allison’s belly. The rhythmic sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room, steady but rapid. Dr. Montgomery listened intently, her face showing a hint of relief.

“IV’s in,” the other nurse confirmed, taping the line securely to Allison’s arm. “Fluids are running.”

Allison’s vision blurred as she tried to focus on the faces around her. She felt a strange detachment, as if observing from a distance. Her limbs felt heavy, almost immobile.

“Hang in there, Allison,” Dr. Montgomery said softly, her demeanor shifting to one of gentle reassurance. “We’re going to take good care of you both.”

As the sedative’s full effect took hold, Allison’s eyelids finally closed, her body going limp.

As she drifted into unconsciousness, the last sound she heard was the steady, reassuring thump of her baby’s heartbeat.

Please, save her.

Allison woke reluctantly, feeling the weight of sleep clinging to her like a heavy blanket. Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal a dimly lit room with sterile white walls. Grogginess clouded her thoughts, making it difficult to piece together the events that had led her here. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from her mind.

As she shifted slightly, a dull ache spread through her middle, a reminder of the trauma she had endured. Allison scanned her surroundings, her vision gradually sharpening. The room was sparse, with just a few pieces of medical equipment and a solitary chair by her bedside. An IV drip was attached to her arm, its slow, steady drip the only movement in the otherwise still room.

Angelo was in a chair beside her bed, hunched over and asleep.

A sense of disorientation washed over her, and she briefly wondered where she was and how she had ended up in this state. The beeping of a heart monitor, rhythmic and persistent, began to penetrate her consciousness. With each beep, fragments of her memory started to resurface. The shrill, mechanical sound served as an unwelcome anchor, pulling her thoughts back to the moment it all happened. She remembered the conversation she had with Angelo—the lies her father had spread, the sinking pain.

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