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“Just a little longer...” her friend Letty pleaded.
Belle panted for breath, choked with tears of pain as the contraction finally ended. Stretched out in bed in the private room in the hospital, her legs beneath a blanket, she’d wanted to be brave, so she’d told the doctors she didn’t need an epidural. It was a choice she was now sorely regretting.
The labor had already lasted for hours and hours, and it still wasn’t time to push. Her daughter, after demanding to be born early, was suddenly taking her time.
“You’re doing fine,” Letty said, letting go of her hand with a wince, to reach for a cup of ice chips.
Belle took the cup gratefully and sucked on an ice chip, thirsty and exhausted in this brief respite between contractions. She knew that soon, the pain would start again, and hurt so much throughout her body that if she’d had anything left in her stomach, she would have thrown up.
“Thanks for being here with me,” she whispered. “I just hope I didn’t break your hand.”
“It’s fine,” her friend said, stretching her hand gingerly. Her eyes narrowed. “It’s nothing compared to how my hand will hurt after the next time I see Santiago’s face. After what he did to you... The bastard! The total bastard!”
“Don’t talk about him that way,” Belle said weakly as she started to feel the beginnings of the next contraction. “He tried his...best. He couldn’t...love me. So he let me go...”
They both turned their heads as they heard some kind of commotion in the hospital hallway, outside the door. It was loud enough to be heard over the medical equipment monitoring her heartbeat and the baby’s with beeps and lights.
“What on earth...?” With a frown, the nurse who’d been hovering by Belle’s bed went out to check, closing the door behind her.
But the noise only increased. Clutching her belly, Belle panted, “Go see what’s happening.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Letty said stoutly.
“Any...distraction...is better...”
With a reluctant nod, Letty went out into the hall.
And then the yelling really started. For a moment, Belle lost track of her labor pains in her sudden fear that World War III had just started in the hospital hallway.
The shouting abruptly stopped. The door exploded open to reveal the last person she’d expected to see. Standing in the doorway was Santiago, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark eyes bright.
Was she dreaming? Had she died?
As the pain started to crest, she stretched out her hand to him with a choked gasp, and in two seconds, he crossed to her side, putting his hand in hers. With him there, though the pain was worse than ever, suddenly she felt stronger and braver, and knew she could endure. With his hand in hers, she knew she could squeeze as hard as she wanted, and it wouldn’t hurt him. She didn’t have to hold back. So she didn’t. Clutching his hand tight, she screamed through the pain.
When the contraction finally was over, he had tears in his eyes. She was shocked.
“Did I hurt your hand?” she said anxiously.
“My hand?” he looked down at it in bewilderment, then shook his head. “It’s fine.”
“Then why—”
“Forgive me,” he choked out.
Then to her astonished eyes, Santiago fell to his knees beside the hospital bed, next to the blanket that covered her legs. He looked up, his dark eyes searing her soul.
“I was a coward,” he whispered. “Afraid to admit what was in my heart. I thought I could send you away and stay safe and numb the rest of my life. I can’t.” He set his jaw. “I won’t.”
“What are you saying?” she croaked out.
“You are everything I was ever afraid to want. Everything good. Everything I thought I didn’t deserve. I need you, Belle.” He took a deep breath. “I love you.”
She gaped down at him. “I thought you could only love Nadia...”
“Nadia?” He snorted. “She was a trophy. Like art on my wall or a million-acre ranch. You are no man’s trophy, Belle.”
Her heart fell. She bit her lip. “No. I’m not.”
