CHAPTER 5
Gloria
Another contraction stabbed me. And then another. They were coming at me harder and more frequently. Biting down on my bottom lip, I tried to stifle a wince, but it was impossible.
“Angel, is there anything I can do?” asked Jaime, his voice thick with a mix of desperation and concern.
“Just hold me, baby.”
Planting a chaste kiss on my scalp, he did as I asked.
Worry circled my mind like a whirling dervish. Control-freak me was not prepared to go into labor. And of all days for this to happen. There was so much to do following our annual fashion show and at the after-party tonight. I was supposed to be meeting with the press and our store managers, checking sales and Internet hits, and hob-nobbing with the Hollywood elite tonight for possible endorsements. And having fun. I began throwing rapid-fire questions at Jaime.
Me: “Does Kev know what’s going on?”
Jaime: “Yes.”
Me: “Does Dr. Bernstein know what’s going on?”
Jaime: “Yes.”
Gloria: “Is she on her way to the hospital?”
Jaime: “Yes.”
Me: “Did you take my purse with my wallet?”
Jaime: “Yes.”
Me: “Did you call Tilda and tell her to pack a bag for me?” (Tilda was my dear, longtime housekeeper)
Jaime: “Yes.”
Me: “What about the party tonight at Greystone?”
Jaime: “Chill, baby. Kevin has it all under control.”
The only thing not under control was me. I was in labor. Losing control was bad enough for me. But not having control over the birth of my twins was something else.