The Bravo Bachelor

When the cramping passed that time, she panted out instructions. “Phone. Over there. On the desk.” He got it and gave it to her. “Doctor,” she said, wheezing like a winded horse. “Calling my doctor…”

“All right. Great idea.” He stood there beside her, waiting, as she autodialed the number.

Dr. Breitmann came right to the phone. She told him about her water breaking and he asked how far apart her contractions were. When she said she could hardly tell as there hadn’t been that many, he chuckled.

“You’re going to be fine, Mary,” the doctor said. “Just head on over to the hospital. I’ll meet you there and we’ll see what’s going on.”

“I’m…” She turned away from the stranger looming over her and spoke low into the phone. “I’m all wet.”

“You can go ahead and change.” Dr. Breitmann said. “And clean up a little, if you wish. Not a bath. But you can wipe off with a damp cloth and then use a sanitary napkin. Amniotic fluid will probably continue to escape.”

“Ugh,” she said in response to that bit of news.

“You’ll be okay,” he reassured her again. “We don’t want to fool around with this, but it isn’t what you’d call an emergency.”

Surely she hadn’t heard right. “It isn’t?”

“Mary, in spite of what you see in the movies, it can sometimes be days before delivery after the water breaks.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. So take a deep breath and calm down.”

“All right. Yes. I will.”

“Just get yourself ready and come on to the hospital.”

When she hung up, Gabe was still looming above her. He demanded, “What did he say?”

She told him—though really, it was none of his business. “I…have to clean up a little. And then I have to go to the hospital. I’m going to be fine. Thank you for.. .being so great about this.”

“Not a problem.”

She waited, figuring he would get the message and get out. But he only looked at her, not budging, leaving her no choice but to tell him outright, “So, then. You should go.”

“Not until the ambulance gets here. Give me the phone and I’ll—”

“Uh-uh.” She pressed it to her chest. “You should go.”

From a pocket, he produced one of those devices that does everything but your laundry. “As soon as the ambulance gets here.”

She grabbed his hand before he could dial 911. “No ambulance. I don’t need one.”

The look in his eyes said he thought she was out of her mind. But he did put the device away. “Are you saying you have someone to drive you?”

She groaned and hunched over her stomach as the next contraction began. He waited, standing close beside her, as it crested and finally eased off. Once she could think again, she raised her gaze to his. “No ambulance,” she repeated, in case he hadn’t gotten the message the first two times she said it. An ambulance would cost more than she was ready to pay. She had insurance to cover the hospital and the birth, but not an optional ride with the EMTs. “Dr. Breitmann said this wasn’t an emergency, so an ambulance isn’t necessary.”

“Looks pretty damn necessary to me.” His square jaw was set.

“You’re not the decider on this. You need to—”

“Forget it.” He glared down at her. “I’m going nowhere. Not until your ride gets here.” He gestured at the phone she still clutched in her hand. “Go ahead. Call them. Tell them to get over here, fast.”

Mary shut her eyes and sucked in a slow breath through her nose.

He pressed her, as determined about this as he’d been about his pricey housing development. “You do have someone to drive you, don’t you?”

She drew herself up. “Of course, I have someone who’s supposed to drive me. My mother-in-law, Ida.”

“Good. Then call her. I’ll wait with you until she arrives. How far away is she?”

Mary gulped. “Well…”

“Where is your ride?” He said each word slowly, as if he doubted her ability to comprehend the question.

And she was forced to confess, “Ida’s in St. Louis. Her sister’s been sick. And please don’t look at me like that. I do have a ride. It’s all arranged. It’s just…I’m not due for three weeks. Ida was going to be home before the baby came.”

He sat down next to her on the sofa and touched the side of her face, guiding a sweaty tendril of hair out of her eye. Funny, but it didn’t bother her at all that he did that. She found his touch comforting, somehow. It steadied her.

“Mary.” He said her name so gently.

She tossed the phone to the sofa cushions and let out a moan. “Oh, this can’t be happening. Not today. Ida’s gone. And I have a deadline…”

“Mary.”

She made herself meet his eyes. “What?”

“Do what you need to do. Get your stuff.”

“And clean up. Really, I have to clean up.”

“Fine. Do it. And then I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

She gasped. “Oh, no. It’s too much. You don’t have to. Really.”

“You won’t take an ambulance and your ride’s in St. Louis. Do not try and tell me that you’ll be driving yourself.”

“I’m not. There are, um, neighbors I could call. And there’s—”

“Mary. Stop.”

“Oh, dear Lord…” She just couldn’t think. But he could. He knew what to do. “Go. Get ready. And we’ll be on our way.”

Satisfied that he’d finally convinced Mary to let him take her where she needed to go, Gabe waited beside her through another of those grueling contractions.

“Help me to my bedroom?” she asked him when it was over.

“You got it. Where is it?” He helped her up again.