CHAPTER 11
Jaime
Dr. Marcy Bernstein, Gloria’s gynecologist, met us at the emergency entrance to Cedars. She was a handsome, dark-haired woman in her early forties, the sister of my best bud, Blake Burns. Several paramedics and nurses accompanied her. The pinched expression on her face told me she knew Gloria was in trouble.
“Move it, move it!” she shouted out as the paramedics swung open the ambulance doors and worked at breakneck speed to get Gloria out of the ambulance.
Everything happened so fast. A couple of nurses took the swaddled, still sleeping babies into their arms, telling me they were bringing them to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit where they would be fully examined and fed. The thought that something could be wrong with Paulette and Payton never occurred to me, but now another dark, petrifying cloud hung over my head.
“Are they okay?” The words raced out of my mouth.
“Don’t worry, sir,” replied one of the nurses as I jumped out of the ambulance. “They look healthy and beautiful. The NICU is where we take all preemies for a thorough examination.”
With a heavy sigh of relief, my attention returned to Gloria. The paramedics were hooking her up to a portable IV unit.
“Get her legs up,” ordered Marcy.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice frantic. My heart was thudding so loudly I could hear it.
“She’s probably torn her uterus,” she replied and then addressed the paramedics, who were still hurriedly hooking her up to various tubes. One of them covered her with a thick blanket, sparing me the sight of seeing her blood-soaked shirt.
“Let’s go!” the stern doctor barked.
On my next rapid breath, the paramedics burst through the automatic doors with Gloria unconscious on the gurney and all hooked up to IVs. My angel was as white as chalk, but I focused on the rise and fall of her chest. Thank fucking God, she was still breathing. I held onto the railing of the gurney, racing with them as they rushed her down a long corridor and into a wide elevator. Dr. Bernstein kept pace beside me.
“Where are you taking her?” My heart was beating a mile a minute, my voice breathless.
“For an MRI and then surgery.”
At the word surgery, my stomach twisted into a painful knot.
“What blood type is she?”
“O.” Gloria’s blood type was the same as mine.
“She’s likely going to need a transfusion. She’s had significant blood loss.”
I quickly shared the fact that Gloria and I shared the same blood type.
“We’re going to need you,” she breathed out. “Stay with us.”
Two hours and three pints of blood later, I restlessly sat in the waiting room, my unhinged body a jittery bundle of nerves. What the fuck was taking so long? To distract myself, I checked my iPhone; I’d turned it off while Gloria was giving birth on the street. There were now dozens of texts and messages awaiting me. One was from Blake whom I’d call later, but the great majority were from Kevin. I owed him a call. He was like a brother to Gloria; they had been through thick and thin together. He needed to know what was going on. I speed-dialed his number.
“Jaime,” he breathed into the phone. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with Gloria?”
I inhaled a gulp of air. How was I going to break the news to him? Finally, I settled on the truth. “It’s not good.”
“What do you mean?” Despair underscored his voice.
“The babies, I think, are fine. But Gloria—” My voice choked up.
“What about Gloria?” His voice rose an octave. He loved her as much as I did.
“She’s in surgery. She had a hemorrhage.”
“Fuck. I’m coming over. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” His voice was instantly tearful.
“Pray for her, Kev.” Tears dripped from my voice too.
“I am.”
Two long hours later, Gloria was out of surgery and now in a small room on Cedars’s intensive care floor. She was resting in a bed, unconscious, still hooked up to myriad IVs and monitors. At least the oxygen mask was off her face, and I could see it in its full glory. Her sensuous full lips were slightly parted, and soft shallow breaths emanated from them. Her chest rhythmically rose and fell, her long platinum braid curling around her ravishing breasts. A serene paleness washed over her. My Gloria looked like an angel. Too much like one.
Tyrone had stopped by earlier with her things along with the little box I’d asked him to bring along. The word fear did not exist for an imposing man like Ty who’d grown up a fighter on the tough streets of South Central. But at the sight of Gloria so pale and frail, fear flickered in the whites of his eyes.
“Is she going to be okay, Mr. Z?” His small, unsteady voice was a sharp contrast to his big, muscular six-foot five physique.
“Yeah,” I lied. I just fucking didn’t know. “Thanks for bringing all her things.”
“No problem, sir.”
In addition to her beauty and grooming necessities, he’d brought along several lacy negligees and teddies from her collection that Gloria’s housekeeper had packed in a small pink overnight bag. One thing, I could count on when—or should I say, if—Gloria woke up, she sure as hell wouldn’t want to be seen in a potato sack hospital gown. As the founder and head of Gloria’s Secret, the largest lingerie emporium in the world, my angel always looked the part of the erotic fantasies she sold. She had even starred in a commercial with me that I’d created for her new BDSM-inspired line, which had brought her company to new heights. The sensuous ad flashed into my head as I watched Gloria sleep and breathe. I prayed she’d be in my arms once again. And live to be the mother of our children.
I urged hard-working, emotionally drained Ty to take the rest of the day off. A man of faith, he told me he was going to his church to pray. I thanked him. That’s all anyone could do at this point. A half-hour after his departure, Kevin showed up, looking like death warmed over. In his hands was an extravagant arrangement of fragrant pink lilies and roses, Gloria’s favorite flowers. He set the large crystal vase on the bureau right next to the small gift-wrapped box I’d asked Ty to bring.
“How is she doing?” he asked anxiously, slumping into an armchair next to mine beside Gloria’s bed. I brushed a few strands of loose hair off Gloria’s forehead. Her skin felt feverish beneath my fingertips. Worry ate at me.
I wish I could tell him fan-fucking-tastic, but his favorite word was a far cry from the truth. I drew in a breath and told him about Gloria’s tenuous situation. “The next twenty-four hours are going to be crucial. There was a substantial tear in her uterus, and she lost a lot of blood. They had to give her a partial hysterectomy.” My voice faltering, I continued on. The fact that Gloria might not be able to bear more children was not important to me. What terrified me was the possibility of a fatal complication. My beloved angel’s life hung in the air I breathed.
Kevin grasped my hand. His eyes watered. “Gloria’s a fighter. She’s kicked death out the door before.”
At the word death, every muscle in my body clenched. But Kevin was right. My feisty beauty was a fighter. She had once survived Boris Borofksy’s near fatal gunshot. I glanced down at the scar above her heart that peeked out from her hospital gown. A vivid reminder that Gloria controlled her destiny. If she had the will to live, she would. I had to believe that. I’d given her my heart and now I’d given her my blood. She had all of me. If I lost her, I would die too.
Changing the subject, I asked Kevin if he’d seen the babies. He shook his head and glanced down at his Mickey Mouse watch.
“Fuck. I have to get going. Gotta head over to Greystone and set up tonight’s party. Shit. I don’t want to leave.”
I squeezed his hand. “Gloria would want you to do your job. Just keep her condition under wraps.”
His lips pressed thin, he nodded. As Gloria’s trusted head of publicity, Kevin understood the impact of negative publicity—of news getting out that wouldn’t serve the company well. No one needed to know the precarious condition of Gloria Long Zander. And it would moreover hamper the spirit of the much anticipated, newsworthy event. With all the celebrities attending, I was sure Gloria wouldn’t be missed. If it was an issue, I’d work with Kevin in the morning to spin a story.
I thanked him for the beautiful, thoughtful flowers and then asked him to do me a favor. “Kev, could you tell Ray to cancel all my meetings for tomorrow.” Ray was my right-hand man and talented protégé. Kevin and Ray had fallen in love just like Gloria and me. We adored them both.
“Sure.” Slowly, he rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving Gloria. His Glorious.
And then he flipped around, and facing me, totally broke down. Loud sobs wracked his body. And tears stormed his face. Standing up, I did something I’d never done with another man before—not even my late father. I held him in my arms and let him cry on my shoulders. He had become like a brother to me too.
“Hang in there, man,” I said softly. He nodded against me, tears staining my white tee.
“Before you head out, stop off and see the babies. They’re beautiful. It’ll cheer you up.”
“Do you think they can call me Uncle Kev?” he sniffled, gazing up at me with his soaked, long-lashed hazel eyes. Kevin was going to be Paulette and Payton’s godfather.
For the first time in hours, I smiled and a little laugh gathered in the base of my throat. “Yeah. That would be good. And they can call Ray their uncle too.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” A small smile curled on his lips too.
He broke away, hugging me one more time before he left.
“Hang in there. And call me with any news. Promise?”
I nodded. “Promise.”