Page 17 of Sex, Love & Lingerie

CHAPTER 11

Jaime

Dr. Marcy Bernstein, Gloria’s gynecologist, met us at the emergency entrance to Cedars. She was a handsome, dark-haired woman in her early forties, the sister of my best bud, Blake Burns. Several paramedics and nurses accompanied her. The pinched expression on her face told me she knew Gloria was in trouble.

“Move it, move it!” she shouted out as the paramedics swung open the ambulance doors and worked at breakneck speed to get Gloria out of the ambulance.

Everything happened so fast. A couple of nurses took the swaddled, still sleeping babies into their arms, telling me they were bringing them to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit where they would be fully examined and fed. The thought that something could be wrong with Paulette and Payton never occurred to me, but now another dark, petrifying cloud hung over my head.

“Are they okay?” The words raced out of my mouth.

“Don’t worry, sir,” replied one of the nurses as I jumped out of the ambulance. “They look healthy and beautiful. The NICU is where we take all preemies for a thorough examination.”

With a heavy sigh of relief, my attention returned to Gloria. The paramedics were hooking her up to a portable IV unit.

“Get her legs up,” ordered Marcy.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice frantic. My heart was thudding so loudly I could hear it.

“She’s probably torn her uterus,” she replied and then addressed the paramedics, who were still hurriedly hooking her up to various tubes. One of them covered her with a thick blanket, sparing me the sight of seeing her blood-soaked shirt.

“Let’s go!” the stern doctor barked.

On my next rapid breath, the paramedics burst through the automatic doors with Gloria unconscious on the gurney and all hooked up to IVs. My angel was as white as chalk, but I focused on the rise and fall of her chest. Thank fucking God, she was still breathing. I held onto the railing of the gurney, racing with them as they rushed her down a long corridor and into a wide elevator. Dr. Bernstein kept pace beside me.

“Where are you taking her?” My heart was beating a mile a minute, my voice breathless.

“For an MRI and then surgery.”

At the word surgery, my stomach twisted into a painful knot.

“What blood type is she?”

“O.” Gloria’s blood type was the same as mine.

“She’s likely going to need a transfusion. She’s had significant blood loss.”

I quickly shared the fact that Gloria and I shared the same blood type.

“We’re going to need you,” she breathed out. “Stay with us.”

Two hours and three pints of blood later, I restlessly sat in the waiting room, my unhinged body a jittery bundle of nerves. What the fuck was taking so long? To distract myself, I checked my iPhone; I’d turned it off while Gloria was giving birth on the street. There were now dozens of texts and messages awaiting me. One was from Blake whom I’d call later, but the great majority were from Kevin. I owed him a call. He was like a brother to Gloria; they had been through thick and thin together. He needed to know what was going on. I speed-dialed his number.

“Jaime,” he breathed into the phone. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with Gloria?”

I inhaled a gulp of air. How was I going to break the news to him? Finally, I settled on the truth. “It’s not good.”

“What do you mean?” Despair underscored his voice.

“The babies, I think, are fine. But Gloria—” My voice choked up.

“What about Gloria?” His voice rose an octave. He loved her as much as I did.

“She’s in surgery. She had a hemorrhage.”

“Fuck. I’m coming over. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” His voice was instantly tearful.

“Pray for her, Kev.” Tears dripped from my voice too.

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