Page 79 of Restored Dreams

“We have too much testosterone in this family already,” Brut proclaimed one day, declaring Lima Bean must be a girl. As if it worked like that.

“What’s going on?” Midge asks on speakerphone.

“My stomach. The pain.” I’m gritting my teeth.

“Lily, honey. Call the doctor.”

“But is this normal?”

“Lily, call the doctor.” Midge’s voice rises.

“Midge, just tell me.” Panic sets in. I’m way too early for Braxton Hicks. Fear grips me, and I start crying. Oh my God, am I losing Lima Bean?

Ester takes the phone and scrolls through my contacts. The doctor’s next on speakerphone and suggests I come into the office. Ester helps me up from the floor and escorts me to my car. She barks out an order that Julia’s in charge, which doesn’t make me feel better.

Ester drives like she’s in the Daytona 500, and all I want to do is close my eyes to the pain. I’m clutching the door handle and my belly, keeping my eyes forward as each time I shut them, I feel dizzy.

“This is normal, right?” I mutter.

“You’re going to be okay,” Ester groans, determination in her tone although she seems as panicked as I am. I can’t lose this baby. What if I lose the baby? Tears flow again, swimming with my fear.

I’m so sorry, Brut, I whisper in my head.

I love you, Lima Bean.

+ + +

“Thank fuck,” I hear muttered after heavy boots stomp up the staircase to the loft above the bakery. I’m back in the apartment, lying on my bed. I have a clear visual of Brut as he crests the staircase. I just stare at him. Brut, the beautiful man with his golden tan, bright blue eyes, and that white hair. He falls to his knees beside the bed and brushes back my hair.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have been here.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper, my throat dry. “I’m okay.” He looks down at my belly, which is covered both by my knees pulled up to my chest and the light blanket over my legs.

“Lima Bean?” he whispers.

“She’s fine.” Brut exhales and lowers his head to the edge of the bed, rolling it back and forth on the mattress. He stands abruptly and paces away from me, his back to me.

“I just…just give me a second.” His shoulders fall forward as his hand comes to his face. His movements show he’s pinching his eyes. Is he crying?

“Brut,” I call out softly. He responds by wiggling his head again. He holds up the back of his hand. He needs another second.

I slowly press up to my side, and the shift turns his attention. He’s at the edge of the bed once again, gently pushing me back to the mattress.

“Just relax. Rest.”

I lie back but keep my focus on his glistening eyes. “I’m sorry.”

His brow pinches. “What are you sorry for?” Tender fingertips brush over my forehead. “What happened?”

“The doctor said dehydration…and stress.”

“Lily pad,” Brut admonishes. “You’re working too hard.”

I hold his eyes. “This is what I do.”

“I know, but you need to let me take care of you. You need to let others help.”

“You sound like Ester.”