Page 116 of Royal Deception
The thought makes my chest tighten. I don’t know where he is or if he’s already on his way. All I know is that I need him. I need him to tell me it’s going to be okay.
“Please,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else, “I need him.”
“Clary?”
I turn my head and see Rory standing at the door. He’s breathless, his face drawn with worry. My heart skips, and for the first time since I’ve been rushed in here, I feel a spark of relief.
“Rory,” I say, my voice small as I reach for him. He moves to my side immediately, taking my hand in his, squeezing it tightly.
“Don’t worry, okay?” he says, his voice shaking a little but trying to reassure me. “I’m here.”
I nod, tears pricking at my eyes. “The baby… the sedative, is it affecting the baby?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“They’re going to take care of it,” Rory says, rubbing his thumb over my hand in a soothing motion. He’s trying to sound calm, but I can see the worry in his eyes.
The doctor starts to speak again, but I barely hear the words. The pain comes again, sharper this time, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. Rory’s hand is a lifeline, holding me steady.
“Stay with me,” he says softly. “We’ll get through this, Clary. I’m not going anywhere.”
The contraction fades, leaving me breathless, but the weight of what’s happening settles in. I don’t have time to wonder whatcould go wrong because I feel the panic clawing at my chest again.
Rory’s hand is still gripping mine, strong and steady, and I focus on the way his fingers curl around mine. He hasn’t let go.
A few seconds later, the doctor returns, her expression professional but not unkind. She looks at me for a long moment, checking the monitors before she speaks.
“Clary, Rory,” she says, her voice calm, “You’re thirty-six weeks along, which means you’re considered preterm, but we’ve seen babies born this early do just fine. We’re concerned, yes, but we’ll be able to manage it. Your baby’s coming, and he’s coming today.”
My breath catches. I want to say something, but the words don’t come. All I can do is look at the doctor, her words sinking in slowly.
Rory’s voice is a little hoarse when he speaks. “He’s okay? The baby’s okay?”
The doctor nods, a reassuring smile tugging at her lips. “There’s a possibility the baby will need some time in the NICU for monitoring, but there’s no need to worry. We’ll be prepared. You’re in good hands.”
Rory squeezes my hand, and I feel a tiny bit of relief wash over me, though the gravity of the situation is still overwhelming.
“They’ll monitor you closely as we move forward,” the doctor continues. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure the delivery is smooth, but the baby’s ready to come. We’ll prep for a delivery, and we’ll get you to the labor room soon.”
I try to steady my breathing, nodding, but the reality is crashing down on me. I’m about to become a mother. The baby’s coming now, not in a few weeks, not when we’d planned. I don’t even feel ready.
But Rory’s voice breaks through my thoughts, low and steady, keeping me grounded. “Clary, we’ve got this,” he says, his words firm but gentle. “We’ll be with you every step of the way.”
I nod, blinking back the tears that have started to well up again. I want to believe him. I want to believe everything’s going to be okay. But I can’t shake the nerves that tighten my chest.
The doctor steps aside as a nurse comes in with a fresh gown, moving quickly and efficiently, but I don’t miss the way she glances at Rory and me. She smiles a little, a gesture of reassurance, but I don’t have time to process it.
The next few moments are a blur of preparations and medical staff, but through it all, Rory doesn’t leave my side. He’s there when I’m wheeled to the labor room, his hand never leaving mine.
“Clary,” he says softly, his voice just for me, “This is it. We’re about to meet our baby.”
I cling to those words as the room starts to spin again, my heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement.
Everything is happening so fast. But I know one thing for sure—whatever happens, I’m not alone. Not anymore.
We’re doing this together.
The contractions are coming fast and hard now, each one leaving me breathless, squeezing every ounce of energy from my body. Rory’s voice cuts through the pain like a lifeline.
“You can do this, Clary,” he says, his tone low and steady, his words grounding me in the chaos. “I know you can. You’ve proven yourself more than capable, haven’t you?”
