Beneath my mask, I couldn’t help grinning. “No, I do PR for Gloria’s Secret.”

“Get out! I love that store!”

My grin widened. I promised I would send her a gift certificate.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” She laughed as I followed my new best friend through the door to the observation room.

My first instinct was to put my fingers in my ears. Or ask for earplugs. I wasn’t prepared for the deafening chorus of wailing babies. I’d never been inside a nursery before and had no experience with babies. Ray’s sister, Carrie, lived in Wisconsin. I’d yet to meet her and his six-month-old nephew, Conner. We’d only done FaceTime.

“Is it always like this in here?” I asked anxiously.

“Honey, this is nothing. Wait till they all get hungry.”

My eyes took in all the tiny screaming babies, their faces as red as tomatoes. I took hesitant steps, my nerves getting to me, and followed bouncy Kashunna down a long row of see-thru baby-sized portable beds. She stopped at the last two.

“Here they are, Uncle Kevin.”

My heart suddenly melted like a bar of chocolate in the heat. Gloria’s glorious babies! Paulette and Payton. Oh my fucking God. They were so teeny-weeny but so beyond adorable. And neither was wailing. Both in the tiniest of diapers, one was clad in a pink knit cap, the other in a powder blue one. My little fashion statements. Paulette’s platinum hair peeked out from her cap. With her full ruby lips and wide-set eyes, she was the spitting image of Gloria, and Payton already looked a lot like Jaime. Awed, I waved at them. “Hi, cutie pies. I’m Uncle Kev, your godfather,” I said aloud and I swear they heard me. Yawning, their eyes made contact with mine. They had bonded with me.

“Would you like to hold one?” asked Kashunna.

“Seriously?”

Randomly, she lifted Paulette out of her crib, holding her in her palms and then transferred her to me. Nerves wracked my body. I’d never held a baby before, let alone one as itsy bitsy as this.

“Just make sure you hold her head up and you both should be fine.”

“Like this?” I asked imploringly, cradling the infant and following her instructions.

“Perfect. How do you feel?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” My racing heart swelled with joy as my confidence soared. I couldn’t stop looking at Paulette. Her blue eyes stayed on mine. My precious godchild. And then just as fast as joy had filled me, a wave of sadness swept over me.

I felt my eyes welling with tears once more. Fuck. It wasn’t fair. My Glorious deserved to be a mother. She’d found true love with Jaime, but she’d suffered so much in her life. My mind scrolled back to our childhood together in a little redneck town in upstate New York. Me a skinny little boy who liked to play Barbies with pigtailed Gloria, when my macho bigoted father, the town sheriff, wasn’t looking and when her crack whore mother wasn’t abusing her or dragging her around to meet men. We were the town outcasts. The bullies at school picked on me—calling me a faggot and physically took advantage of my small size while they tried to pull poor Gloria’s panties down, thinking she was just like her slutty mother, who’d likely fucked everyone of their fathers. I hated them all. So did Gloria. We didn’t belong there, and we had dreams. So, at the age of sixteen, I stole one of my father’s guns and robbed the dickwad of a few thousand dollars, and together we ran away. Ending up in Brooklyn where we found a new life. We shared a small flat in Brighton Beach together and struggled. Our dreams grew bigger. And when Gloria wanted to buy the lingerie store from her beloved employer and mentor, Madame Paulette, I had an idea: rob the safe of the nefarious, gay-bashing nightclub impresario I worked for—Boris Borofsky.

An unexpected wail from Paulette cut into my thoughts. And a sudden chill fell upon me. Another memory was triggered. That of Gloria, crying out in pain after she’d been shot by the pink-eyed monster who’d caught us stealing from him. Nobody steals from Boris Borofsky! His thick, accented, threatening voice thundered in my head. The motherfucker! He’d hurt my Gloria! With vengeance, I shot the bitch in the face with my father’s gun, and then I caught my beautiful accomplice in my arms as she crumpled to the ground. A sharp pang of guilt zapped me. Oh my, Glorious! This was all my fault! I should have never made her rob Boris! And now God was again paying me back. Taking her away from me! Taking her away from her beloved Jaime and from her beautiful babies! A deep shudder ran through me as a tear leaked out one eye. A tsunami was verging.

Nurse Kashunna’s hearty voice cut into my despair. “Sugar, you okay?”

Fuck no.“G-gotta go.” My voice thin and watery, I made up an excuse and thanked her for letting me visit the babies.

“You sure you don’t want to feed her?”

As Paulette’s wails grew louder, my anguish consumed me.

“Positive,” I murmured, fighting back tears.

“You have yourself a nice day,” Kashunna said cheerfully as she gently set beautiful Paulette back in her little crib.

That wasn’t happening even with the fun after-party ahead. With an aching heart, I glanced down one more time at Gloria’s tiny miracles. I would always be there for them. Forever. But right now, I had to do something else. With tears streaming down my face and a chorus of wails piercing my heart, I hurried out of the nursery.

The hospital Chapel was located on the Plaza level between the North and South Towers. A lapsed Catholic, I hadn’t set foot in a church for years. But now, I had the burning urge to be seen and to be heard.

While the hospital had a Jewish affiliation, the airy Chapel was non-denominational and was opened to people of all faiths and from all walks of life. I was not alone. Several grieving people sat in the pews, including the Latino couple, whom I’d met earlier on the elevator. Both were on their knees and had their hands folded in prayer. The woman was still weeping. While I could sit just about anywhere, I chose to sit next to them. I got down on my knees and silently began to pray.

For Gloria. For Jaime. For their babies. Please, God, make Gloria live and be there for her family. Please!

And I asked for God’s forgiveness.

And then I prayed hard for the couple next to me and their grandchild.

The day had been unusually dismal for LA. Gray and overcast.

Suddenly, a ray of sunshine beamed through the stained-glass window.

And a ray of optimism streamed through my being.

God had heard me.

Now, I just had to wait.