Page 57 of Snowed In with the Bosses

I cupped Clara’s face between my palms. “Clara? Wake up.” I shook her shoulder a bit. “Come on. You have to wake up.”

“They’re on the way.” Alexander dropped to a knee beside me. “She’s breathing. Slow and steady. Pulse is fast.” He nodded at whatever the person on the phone said. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll be waiting.” Panic-filled eyes met mine. “Five minutes.”

I’d never known five minutes to last an eternity, but they did when Clara lay prone on the floor.

Liam ushered everyone back, doing his best to keep a perimeter around her. “Go on. Don’t crowd.” He tunneled a hand through his hair. “EMTs will be here soon to check on her. Why don’t you all head into the kitchen. We had some excellent food prepared, and Robbie’s going to open a bottle of wine.”

Robbie looked at Clara, concern evident in the twist of her mouth, but she shooed everyone ahead of her. “Come on. Let’s have something to eat and drink and let Clara have a bit of quiet.”

“Her dress,” Liam hissed when he backed close enough. “Can you fix her dress?”

I scanned Clara from head to toe. She lay flat on her back, her dress clinging to her stomach. Anyone who thought to look would recognize the pregnancy bump. As though to prove a point, one of the babies moved, causing her stomach to ripple.

Sirens pierced the air. Seconds later, Liam led a man and a woman to Clara.

The woman asked questions in a calm but efficient manner.

“She’s pregnant.” Alexander let out a shaky breath. “She was fine, then she collapsed.”

“We need to take her to the hospital.” The female EMT grabbed the rolling stretcher and gave each of us a piercing look. “We have room in the ambulance for one other person. Anyone else who wants to come can follow in their car.”

“I’ll drive.” Alexander pushed to his feet.

I followed. “Liam, go with her. We’ll see you there.”

I’d seen Alexander upset, and in every variation from anger to despair. The man behind the wheel driving us to the hospital was born of panic and loss, a terrible combination that had him taking corners far too fast. My own agony kept me silent. Had we done something wrong? What would happen to Clara and the babies?

My heart attempted to leave my body and fly into the ambulance, anything to be closer to her.

We arrived in a squeal of tires and the ambulance’s roar of sirens. Liam jumped from the back. “She woke up a bit, then nodded off again.” White rimmed his mouth from the force ofclamping his lips together. He gripped his hair and pulled. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Inside.” Alexander grabbed each of us and pulled us along behind the EMTs wheeling Clara into the waiting room. Bright light assaulted my eyes. Light and a strange, acidic smell that twisted my stomach.

A man in a white coat with a stethoscope banded around his neck rushed over. The EMTs rattled off numbers that made no sense to me, but the doctor understood. “Any family?”

The woman thumbed toward us. “Those three.”

“Great.” The doctor turned toward us. “I’m Dr. Branson. We’re taking Miss Perry into a room for evaluation. You all can wait here. I’ll be back as soon as I have news.”

This was our punishment for thinking we could have Clara. Reality clawed its way through me. We were the reason she’d collapsed. Our children inside her body, our desperate desire for her brought us here, to this.

My blunted nails scored dark crescents into my palms. I held back the bellow of agony pummeling my heart back into its cage.

Minutes dragged out like hours, every tick of the clock in the blinding white waiting room singing a song of doom. Alexander paced, his frustration mounting with every turn around the room. People watched us, their own ills cast aside for the chance to experience someone else’s misfortune. Let them watch. I remained frozen where the doctor left me, my body too wracked with guilt to move.

“Gentlemen?” A melodious voice trickled through the grief. “Are you here with Clara Perry?”

“Yes.” Alexander closed the distance, stopping to brace my shoulder with his. “How is she?”

“Weak and tired.” The man from before—Dr. Branson—smiled in that careful way of doctors. “Her blood pressure was low. Not surprising since she’s carrying triplets.” He frowned. “Irecommend she take a few days off work. Maybe up to a week. She needs time to rest and recover.”

“Done.” My voice broke on the word. I didn’t give a fuck who heard the relief or saw the threat of tears I choked back. “But she will be okay?”

“Yes.” Dr. Branson gave a cautious look at all three of us. “She’s allowed to have one visitor at a time. But I need to run a few more tests and get an ultrasound before anyone can go in. You understand this is a high-risk pregnancy? She will need closer monitoring and possible bed rest until she delivers.”

The room ceased to exist. High-risk. That dreaded word floated around me, needling me. We’d heard her doctor mention it too, but Clara always brushed it off. I’d let her lack of concern sway me into complacency.

“We’ll do whatever we have to.” I grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed until the pain brought me back. “Tell us what to do.”

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