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“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wouldn’t ever play that card, except what’s the point of telling him when he can do nothing about this, even if he were here? He can’t stop this baby from coming early, if that’s what’s going to happen.”
“He’d still want to be with you.”
I shook my head. “We have come too far—he has sacrificed too much to be distracted by something that could be nothing.”
Okay, I played another card I’d never intended. Amano had absolutely no experience with pregnant women or premature babies. If I stayed calm—appeared calm, at any rate—he wouldn’t get mired in the full impact of what could actually be happening. I’d read enough books on childbirth to be deeply distressed, because if my baby was born at this point he could suffer severe health risks. I didn’t share that knowledge with Amano.
“I just need to get to the retreat,” I told my bodyguard. “I need Macy and Dr. Preston to check me out.”
Did I sound normal or was my voice an octave too high? I spared a glance at Kyle, who seemed to grasp what I tried to achieve.
With a nod, he said to Amano, “You know Ari. It’s not a typical day in our world unless there’s some drama. Seriously.” He tried to look nonchalant. Though I had no doubt he was as wigged as I was.
Rosa returned with a bag and a towel to clean me up. Then the men helped me into the SUV. Rosa sat with me in the back, since Amano refused to leave her alone at the house with no protection—not quite considering the safeguarding offered by our FBI property sitters reliable protection. He was just that way.
Rosa patted my hand and whispered, “Babies don’t need the water so much at this point in the term and more will be produced, so it should be okay.”
I didn’t dare pose the or…? question while Amano was in earshot. Tried not to dwell on that prospect myself.
&
nbsp; When we arrived at the medical retreat, it was handy to have Kyle with us to alleviate problems with the massive security his aunt was required to maintain for her accreditations. Though the guards knew me anyway, since I’d stayed there during my first trimester and returned for my routine checkups and ultrasounds with Dr. Preston.
Macy ushered me into an exam room as I explained what had happened. She had me in stirrups with a blanket covering me in no time. The guys promptly disappeared, though I begged Rosa to stay with me. Not that I’d really had to—from her determined expression, she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Dr. Preston is on her way,” Macy informed me. “She’ll be about an hour.”
My OB-GYN was based out of Scottsdale, south of us. Since I didn’t believe I was about to deliver right this very second, I didn’t stress over the travel time. I was relieved she could break free for me.
Macy made me comfortable and talked me through a few possible scenarios. She assured me delivering today wouldn’t be the end of the world, though it’d be necessary to closely monitor the baby if that occurred.
“From the size of that belly of yours,” Macy said in a playful voice, “I don’t think there’ll be a problem with his weight.”
“It’s like he sprouted a few inches the past couple of weeks. Even my dad was shocked by how big I’d gotten, so quickly.”
“That’s not out of the norm. And sometimes babies stop growing when they’ve reached a certain point, which will contribute to a premature birth,” Macy explained. “That situation is actually rare, but it does happen.”
“Believe me, nothing about this child is going to be ordinary. You’ve met his father.”
Both Macy and Rosa laughed. Easily, not strained or forced humor.
Okay, that was good.
Rubbing my belly, I said, “So maybe you can help me kill time by offering up some baby names.”
We spent the hour running through an impressive list. I had a few ah-ha moments, but they passed in a flash. Brock stuck in my head, but I wanted to use Dane’s father’s name for a middle name, which was also Dane’s middle name. So Brock Bradley Bax just felt like a mouthful. I didn’t fully discount it, though.
Rosa offered Cort, which had potential as well. Cort Bradley Bax. It was strong, masculine. Too trendy?
We kept at it until Dr. Preston arrived and did her usual efficient assessment, with some head nodding, some shaking, then a final decisive, “Everything’s going to be okay.”
I let out a lengthy sigh of relief.
“Although,” she added, “you are having this baby sooner rather than later.”
I eyed her sternly.
She said, “Ari, you have cervical insufficiency. Usually that can be determined up front, if you’ve had miscarriages, a D and C, or are otherwise at risk. You had no risk factors. I even examined your cervix at the beginning of your pregnancy, and it doesn’t fall into the short category. But there have certainly been some changes with your body that caused the incompetency in this late stage.” With a steady gaze, she told me, “This child of yours is so ready to be born.”
