Chapter 14
‘What?’ He sounded incredulous at her statement as his arm slid around her back for support, and Peyton almost laughed. He truly had believed this wouldn’t happen. ‘No.’
‘Yes,’ she choked out. She wished it wasn’t true but she knew it was. Turning a tear-streaked face to him, she barely noticed the dark slash of his brow. ‘I’m only twenty-four weeks. We have to stop it.’ When he didn’t look like he was taking it in, she grabbed the front of his shirt. ‘We have to.’
That did the trick, his brow clearing as a grim determination hardened his eyes. ‘We will,’ he said as he swept her up into his arms.
‘What are you doing?’ She yelped at the sudden loss of gravity.
‘Taking you to A his long strides already had them in the lounge and, before she knew it, he was depositing her very gently into the wheelchair they always kept in the department.
Peyton was grateful for the ride as he pushed her in the direction of the lifts, and she listened to him talk to Erica on his mobile.
‘Have your membranes ruptured?’ Valentino asked.
‘No,’ Peyton said with a sniff, new tears falling down her cheeks.
Within seconds they were pulling up beside the elevator and he was stabbing the down button repeatedly as he relayed the information to Erica. He uh huh’d a few more times then said, ‘Be there in two,’ before shoving the phone in his pocket and pushing her inside the lift as the doors opened.
Another contraction hit as they entered the lift and Peyton cried out at the emotional pain as much as the physical. ‘It’s okay,’ he assured her from behind. ‘We’re nearly there and Erica’s ten minutes away.’
The ride in the lift was the longest of Peyton’s life and by the time Valentino wheeled her into St Auburn’s chaotic accident department, she was already fearing the worst. She was going to lose another baby.
And Valentino, whether he thought so or not, would eventually tire of her being an emotional wreck and he’d cut and run.
And Peyton didn’t think she could survive any of it again.
Nat was the first person they saw, her initial look of welcome quickly turning to alarm as she took in Peyton’s tears. ‘What’s happened?’ she demanded.
‘She’s twenty-four weeks pregnant.’ Valentino answered for her, and Peyton was too distressed to care. ‘And having contractions.’
Nat blinked. ‘Pregnant?’
‘Yes,’ he said, his voice strained. ‘Pregnant. Erica de Jongh is on her way.’
One look at Peyton’s blubbering face and Natalie didn’t need any more information.
Nor, thankfully, did she comment on Peyton lying to her on the phone call those months ago when she’d rung to check on the result of that pregnancy test. She just took charge and within thirty seconds Peyton was in a cubicle and Valentino was placing her on a gurney.
‘I’ll just get the CTG,’ Nat said, ducking out of the curtains.
Peyton rolled on her side away from Valentino, curling into a ball and sobbing quietly. Why was this happening again?
A hand slid onto her shoulder, tugging gently. ‘Peyton,’ Valentino murmured.
She squeezed her eyes shut at the soft empathy. This was all his fault, damn it. ‘Go away,’ she choked out, giving her shoulder a violent shrug. ‘Just go away, Valentino. It’ll save you the effort later.’
‘Peyton, look at me.’ He tugged gently on her shoulder again. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
A block of rage like a molten rock wedged in her chest as Peyton flung herself back to face him.
‘I told you,’ she hissed quietly, aware that only a thin curtain separated them from the next cubicle.
‘I told you this would happen again and that I didn’t want to get close to another baby, to love another baby. ’
Half sitting, Peyton wiped at her streaming eyes and nose. ‘But no, you said it’d be fine, you said it wouldn’t happen. You’ – she poked him viciously in the chest, her voice rising even as she tried to tamp it down – ‘made me go along with it. You’ – another poke – ‘made me want him.’
‘Peyton…’
The empathy in that one word would have broken Peyton before all this happened. She was quietly yelling at him and he wasn’t yelling back; he was standing there letting her vent, strong and silent. But she didn’t care – right now Peyton was only capable of processing her own feelings.
‘We don’t know what this is yet,’ he murmured.
She shook her head violently. ‘I do.’ She knew deep in her bones. ‘I. Do.’
He tried to slide his hand over hers but she snatched it away. ‘We discussed this contingency with Erica—’
A contraction gripped her and Peyton’s gasp cut him off.
She tried to breathe but was crying too hard at the same time.
It eventually eased and then Nat came in glancing between the two of them as she hooked the belt of the CTG machine around her bump.
Squeezing Peyton’s hand, she said, ‘Erica’s just parking her car. ’
Peyton watched the curtains fall back into place as Nat left, not really taking in the update as all the anger and fight left her body.
It was too bloody exhausting right now and she was going to need her energy.
She glanced at Valentino, so big and vital beside her despite having just gotten off a long-haul flight, and she felt like a husk.
‘I can’t do this again, Valentino.’ She heaved in a deep breath. ‘I can’t do it. I don’t have enough strength for this.’
‘You, Peyton Donald, are the strongest woman I know.’ He brushed at her fringe and she didn’t pull away. ‘Look what you’ve been through already. Look how you survived. You’re a survivor.’
Peyton angled her head until he was cradling her face and she shut her eyes, two more tears squeezing out and trekking down her face. Why did she have to be the strong one?
‘Why can’t something just go my way for once?’ She opened her eyes and straightened her head. ‘You told me it would be okay,’ she whispered. ‘I trusted you.’
Placing his other hand on her face, he cupped both cheeks, his eyes meeting hers with utter sincerity.
‘You can trust me. I’m not going to let anything happen.
We’ll look at the CTG and get an ultrasound, and if it is preterm labour then you’ll go on nifedipine and the labour is going to stop, and you’re giving up work and going on bed rest and I’m going to support you and feed you and pamper you, and this baby will go to full term and then we’re getting married because I love you and we’re going to Italy for a honeymoon and we’re taking the kids. ’
Peyton was so churned up she found it difficult to follow his stream-of-consciousness speech. She wasn’t even sure if she heard him right. But the conviction in his words was strong and she so wanted to believe him.
Had he actually said the L word? She sniffed and said, ‘What?’
Then the curtains snapped back and Erica arrived, pushing a portable ultrasound machine and looking calm and efficient and in control.
‘How are you doing?’ she asked both of them as she switched on the machine and fiddled with some dials.
‘Lousy,’ Peyton admitted.
Erica nodded. ‘You?’ she asked Valentino.
‘Scared witless.’
Peyton looked at him, startled. He hadn’t seemed in the least bit afraid.
He’d been commanding and confident, had got her to A&E and arranged for Erica to be here and told her everything was going to be okay.
He’d been the epitome of cool, calm and collected, especially in the face of her histrionics.
Erica nodded again. ‘Normal, then.’ She inspected the graph readout the CTG was spitting out as it monitored the baby.
Her face gave nothing away but that just increased Peyton’s dread. ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’
Erica looked her in the eye. ‘It’s showing regular strong contractions. But the baby’s heart rate is steady and there are no decelerations. He doesn’t appear to be any distress. Let’s have a look first, okay?’ She placed a condom over the trans-vaginal probe and squirted warmed lubricant on it.
That all seemed like good news but Peyton had ridden the medical rollercoaster before and what she need was assurances. Grabbing Erica’s sleeve, she said, ‘Please tell me it’s going to be okay.’
Erica glanced at Valentino then back to Peyton. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know yet, Peyton. But I will in a second. Let’s be sure, okay?’
A hot tear escaped out the corner of Peyton’s left eye as she wriggled out of her scrub pants and underwear beneath the sheet Erica provided. Trying not to tense, she bent her knees up, her feet flat on the gurney as Erica expertly situated the probe.
Valentino squeezed her hand and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, which caused a tear to roll from the other eye as an image flickered on the screen. Peyton shut her eyes tight, turning her head into Valentino’s shoulder.
She couldn’t bear to watch.
After what seemed like minutes Peyton couldn’t take the silence any longer, convinced Erica was trying to find a way to tell her she was almost fully dilated again. ‘Well?’ she demanded.
Erica flicked a switch and the sure and steady beat of their baby’s heart filled the cubicle. Peyton broke down at the glorious sound. It seemed so strong but she knew at twenty-four weeks their son was so very, very fragile.
Too young to be in the outside world.
Erica removed the probe and switched off the machine. ‘The good news is you haven’t dilated.’
Peyton clutched at Valentino’s shirt as the info sank in. For the first time since she’d realised she was in labour, a ray of hope slanted into the quagmire of her grief.
‘But you are 50 per cent effaced.’
And the fragile walls of hope came crashing down around her, snuffing out the ray. Both effacement – shortening and thinning of the cervix – and dilatation were required for the baby to be delivered. Which meant…
‘So, it’s definitely preterm labour?’ Valentino asked, putting voice to what Peyton couldn’t.
Erica nodded. ‘I’m afraid so.’