Page 77 of Triplet Babies for the Billionaire
My water has broken.
I turn to Noah, who’s still sound asleep beside me, his steady breathing filling the room. “Noah!” I say, my voice tight with urgency. “Noah, wake up. Something’s happening.”
He stirs, groggy at first, and then his eyes snap open when he sees the panic on my face. “What? Blossom, what’s wrong?”
“I...my water broke,” I say, my breath coming in shallow gasps. “It’s too early. I’m only at thirty-four weeks, Noah.”
He sits up instantly, his worry mirroring mine, but his actions are swift and calm. He grabs our baby bags from the side of thebed, pulling them toward the door. “Okay, okay, we’ve got this. Let’s get you to the hospital. We’re going to be fine.”
I nod, trying to reassure myself as much as him, but I can’t help the worry and excitement that’s building inside me. These babies are coming—now—and no matter how ready I thought I was, I’m not. But at the same time, I’m also bursting with excitement. I’m about to meet my babies.
Noah is driving like a man on a mission, weaving through the streets of New York at four a.m. The city is eerily quiet, but the speed at which we’re moving definitely makes up for it.
“Slow down!” I laugh, holding onto the seatbelt for dear life. “You’re going to make us crash, and I’ll have to give birth in the back of this car.”
Noah glances at me, his face set in determination. “We’re getting to the hospital as fast as possible, Blossom. We’re not waiting for an ambulance. I’m getting you there. Trust me.”
I can’t help but laugh, even as my contractions increase in intensity. “You’re going to make it worse, you know that?” I joke through gritted teeth. “We’re going to be pulled over by the cops, Noah. Calm down before you get us in trouble!”
He doesn’t even flinch at my joke, just presses harder on the gas, managing to speed through two yellow lights. I watch as the city whizzes by outside the window, the lights of the streets flashing by.
“Blossom,” Noah says, a mix of seriousness and excitement in his voice, “we’re going to do this. We’re almost there. Just breathe. You’re doing great.”
I squeeze the seatbelt for dear life, trying to breathe through another contraction. “Just don’t get us killed,” I mutter, and Noah chuckles, keeping his focus on the road.
We finally arrive at the hospital, and Noah parks the car haphazardly out front, his hands already unbuckling his seatbelt before the car has even fully stopped. I’m gripping the seat,my heart racing as my contractions become quicker and more intense. My breathing feels shallow, but I try to stay calm.
Two nurses rush toward us as soon as we step out of the car, one holding a wheelchair and the other giving me a reassuring smile. “We’ve got you, sweetie,” the nurse says as they guide me into the chair.
Noah is right beside me, his hand never leaving mine. I look up at him, trying to smile despite the pain, but I can see the worry on his face. He’s trying so hard to stay calm for me, but I can feel his worry clearly.
We’re led down the hospital corridors, the lights overhead flashing by quickly. The nurses guide us into the maternity ward, and my eyes scan the room.
The space is calm and welcoming. The hospital bed doesn’t look uncomfortable. A cozy couch sits across from the bed, and there’s a television mounted on the wall for distraction.
“This is it?” I ask breathlessly, unsure whether I’m imagining it or if everything feels too peaceful for the chaos of giving birth.
Noah squeezes my hand. “This is it. We’re about to meet our babies.”
The contractions are coming faster now, and every one of them takes my breath away. I struggle to get my clothes off, but my body feels heavy, like I can’t move fast enough.
Noah notices, immediately coming to my side. “Let me help,” he says gently, his hands reaching for my hospital gown. He helps me slide it on, his touch soothing against the tension in my body.
He rubs my sore, stiff back, and I lean into his touch, trying to focus on the feeling of his hands and not the searing pain. “You’re doing amazing, Blossom. You’re so strong. I know you can do this.”
But the fear catches up with me, and I can’t stop the tears from spilling. I break down, letting the emotions flood throughme. “I’m scared, Noah,” I admit, my voice shaking. “What if I can’t do this? What if something goes wrong? What if…”
He holds me tighter, his voice calm and reassuring. “Bravery isn’t about not being scared,” he says, his lips brushing against my ear. “It’s about facing what scares you head-on. You can do this, Blossom. You’ve got this. And I’m right here. Always.”
His words wash over me like a wave of warmth, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Okay,” I whisper, feeling the calm settle in. “I can do this.”
And with Noah by my side, I know that I can.
The room feels a little cooler now, the soft glow of the overhead lights making everything feel more serene than it should. The nurse checks the monitors, and soon, the doctor arrives, a woman with a thick Spanish accent and a calming presence. She’s older, experienced, and there’s a warmth to her that makes me feel safe.
She smiles warmly as she approaches the bed. “Good morning, Blossom. I’m Dr. Rivera. I’ve delivered hundreds of babies. You’re in good hands.” She pats my leg gently, and for the first time since we arrived, I feel a sense of reassurance wash over me.
I’m nervous as hell, but hearing her say that everything looks great eases some of my tension.
