Chapter 37
ANDREA
Iglance out the window, not truly relaxed until Tanner pulls out of Hudson’s huge compound. He’s really letting me go? I twist my hands, but something catches between my fingers. I glance down in surprise, and my ring winks up at me. That’s right, I never take it off anymore; even when I shower it stays on because it drives Hudson mad, otherwise. My heart aches as I stare at it.
Then my phone beeps with a message. I quickly unlock it.
AUTUMN:
Ezra is in the operating room with Charlie. They said it could take a few hours. I’m sorry I don’t have any updates right now.
I swallow and grip the phone tightly until my knuckles turn white. It’s going to be fine. I don’t know if it’s a good idea, but I still have an hour drive to reach Brattleboro. I feel like I might go crazy given the jitters running through me, so I open my phone browser and google “going into labor at thirty-two weeks”.
There are various conflicting articles online, but the majority seem to reassure that for twins, it isn’t that unusual this early. Even though they will be really tiny because they’re premature, they’ll spend time in the NICU, but grow to be strong and healthy. They might need extra attention and medical care, but they’ll be fine.
I blow out a breath and close my eyes, dropping my head against the headrest. It’s a little hollow, being in Hudson’s car without his dominating presence. I squeeze my eyes tight and push him out of my head. Was I too harsh with him earlier?
I wasn’t really thinking. I needed to leave that gilded cage, and he was the only thing standing in my way. I must have dozed off because when my eyes snap open, we’re pulling into the driveway of the only hospital in town. “We’re here, ma’am.” Tanner’s gaze meets mine through the rearview mirror as he kills the engine. He opens his door, presumably to come open mine, but I stop him.
“No, don’t get out. I’m fine going in on my own. Thanks for the ride.” I hesitate briefly then snap the door open and jump out. I give the Jeep one last look before jogging through the double doors. I make my way straight to the reception desk.
“I’m here for Charlotte Beaufort, I–”
“Andrea?”
I glance back to see my brother across the room, holding a tray of what looks like several vending machine coffees. “Alex.” I push away from the desk and make a beeline for him. “Do we have any updates? How’s Charlie?”
“Are you here alone?” he asks, his gaze going around the room like he’s looking for someone. “Where’s your fiancé?”
My breath catches when his gaze drops to mine, his brows furrowed in concern. I swallow the lump in my throat and lie my ass off, “He sent me ahead. He had a meeting he couldn’t miss. You know how it is.” I glance down at my shoes. It seems all I do these days is lie to my family.
“Yes, I understand.” Alex clears his throat. “Come on.”
I follow him to the elevator and ride up to the second floor. Autumn is pacing in front of the glass doors that lead to the operating room, her reddish curls pulled up into a messy bun. Dad is sitting on one of those plastic three seater chairs that are common in hospital waiting rooms. Mom sits next to him, holding his hand tightly. Next to her are Donna and Ella, Charlie’s mom and her twin sister.
Ella sees me first and gives me a short nod. Her mom’s gaze meets mine, but it’s like she’s looking right through me. Mom and Dad wave, and Autumn comes forward to pull me into a tight hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers. I wrap my arms around her, holding her like my life depends on it.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” I ask as I pull back from the hug. She didn’t really go into detail when she called, nor when she texted. She nods and pulls me with her, away from our family to the elevators. We stop in front of them, and, automatically, both our gazes lock on the door of the operating room.
“Charlie has been in a lot of pain since last week. She couldn’t get out of bed and was actually ordered on bedrest by her doctor until the babies’ arrival. She thought it was just Braxton Hicks, but the pain kept getting worse,” Autumn explains. My eyes move to her; this is news to me. She’d been in pain?
“Then we got the call that her water broke, and they were on their way to the hospital. Of course, we came over immediately. She was determined to have the babies naturally, and things were actually progressing nicely. Then a couple of hours ago, she started bleeding; it was discovered that both babies are breech. ”
“Breech?” I ask, unfamiliar with the term.
“The babies are positioned such that their feet will come out first instead of their heads. Charlie wanted to wait in hopes that the doctor’s efforts to turn the babies would prove fruitful, but she kept bleeding and it didn’t stop. All the time in between had weakened the babies so much that even if they were turned the right way, they would not be able to come out on their own.”
I sag against the wall behind me weakly as she continues, “So she agreed to the C-section, and now all we can do is wait and pray.”
I nod in acknowledgement, and we walk back to the waiting area to sit with the rest of the family. It couldn’t have been more than an hour, but the wait was long and excruciating. When the glass doors finally open, we all rush to the doctor walking out.
He gives us a weary smile. “Congratulations folks. Both mother and sons are healthy and–” The rest of his words are swallowed as we all start shouting and hugging each other. I’m happy, so happy, but the joy is hollow because it feels like part of me is missing.
By the time Charlotte is wheeled out of the operating room, hours later, she’s fast asleep, understandably exhausted. Ezra opts to stay with her while the nurse leads us to the NICU wing where the babies are being monitored since they’re still so small.
Thankfully, they can breathe on their own, but they aren’t mature enough to take a bottle or nurse yet. They have to be fed through feeding tubes, and their weight is being monitored regularly.
“The neonatal nurse assigned to the babies is inside with them,” said the nurse that brought us here. She waves us in before leaving.
I was expecting the NICU to be one big room with several other babies, like in the movies, but it’s actually divided into private rooms. So my precious little nephews have a good-size room to themselves, and we can all crowd around and watch their tiny bodies in their separate cots.
They both have the same shock of thick black hair that runs in the Beaufort family. We coo at their adorable potato faces, and, oh my God, they’re so small. They can each fit into a palm, but they’re perfect.
“Is it normal to be this tiny?” Dad asks, his voice suspiciously thick. I glance at him; he’s wiping his hand under his eyes while staring at his first pair of grandchildren.
“Yes, sir.” The nurse in the room flashes Dad a warm smile. She notes, “They’re very healthy. You’ll be shocked at how much they’ll grow within the next week after getting regular meals.”
We spend only a few minutes in the room, watching them sleep, before we’re ushered out. Autumn wraps her arm around my waist and asks, “Want to go wait for the new mother to wake up?”
“Of course.” I smile and walk with her to Charlotte’s private room.