Page 55 of The Baby His Secretary Carries

First there’d been the shock of realizing she was bleeding, then the drama of a helicopter evacuation to the mainland. A scan had revealed a placental abruption. For the moment, the baby was getting enough oxygen, but they had given Molly steroids and put her on strict bed rest, hoping to buy the baby at least one more week of development. She would definitely deliver early, probably within the next two weeks.

She touched her belly with concern. Her hand still held the IV tube and the firm swell of her bump wore the monitor, reassuring her that the baby was safe inside her, but she was not quite twenty-five weeks along. Far too early.

“The baby’s okay. You’re stable,” Gio said in a quiet rumble, coming to her side from the darkened corner by the window.

Her heart soared, then plummeted as she tried to read his expression and found it deeply guarded.

“When did you get here?” she asked with shock.

Why are you here?

He touched a finger to his lips and nodded at the sofa. She lifted her head to see Libby sleeping under a draped blanket.

“Your mother is here,” he said in an undertone. “She’s down the hall with Alexandra. Libby wanted to stay here with you. It was a long flight and...” He hitched a shoulder. “A lot for her to process. She’s worried about you.”

Oh, kiddo.Molly dropped her head back onto the pillow.

“Thank you for bringing them,” she whispered.

Rafael had been Sasha’s first call after ordering the helicopter, when they realized Molly was hemorrhaging. In her panic, Sasha had said all the wrong things, including “Of course, I remember everything!”

She had blown up her marriage in a way that was inevitable and possibly irrevocable. Rafael had promised to meet them here at the hospital, then hung up on her. At that point, Sasha had had no choice but to involve Gio.

Sasha had said that Gio had promised to handle everything, but Molly hadn’t expected him to escort her mother and sister to her side himself.

“I really appreciate this. I need Mom and Lib here, but...” She couldn’t keep her mouth from quivering. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

His cheek ticked. “If you don’t want me here then say so.”

“I want you here.” Her voice was a mere scuff in the back of her throat.

He started to reach for her hand, but there was a rustle of noise behind him.

“Moll?” Libby asked sleepily.

“Hi, pumpkin. I’m awake. I’m okay.”

Gio stepped back so she could see her sister sit up and throw off her blanket.

“That’s good, because I need to tell you that I’m really mad at you,” Libby informed her.

Ten days passed. Ten precious days of consistently lying on her left side, playing cards with Libby as they talked out secrets and lies. Ten days of letting her mother check her pulse and smooth her hair while they exchanged suggestions on what to read next on their e-readers.

Ten days of seeing Sasha and Rafael separately, both concerned about her and the baby, but not bringing any of their marital issues into her room.

That was her mother’s doing. Patricia had read a riot act that Molly needed to remain calm and keep her blood pressure down. Conflicts should be taken down the hall and preferably kept from the hospital altogether.

Thus, Libby wasn’t saying much to her birth mother, either.

“I just wonder why she didn’t come and see me if she wanted a baby?” Libby had said to Molly one day, voice ringing with confusion and hurt.

Molly had a feeling that Patricia was spending a lot of time stroking Libby’s hair, too. Maybe even Sasha’s.

Then there was Gio. He was the first person Molly saw every morning and the last person at night. He usually stepped out when someone else arrived, but he never went far, because once they left, he flowed back into the room like a loyal sentry.

He brought flowers, which he insisted were from Otto.

“Does he know why I’m here?” she asked with alarm. It was her fourth day in hospital. They were all doing their best to continue keeping her surrogacy confidential. The last thing Sasha wanted was for her parents to catch wind of this and turn up. “How is he?”

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