Page 160 of Tempting Miles
“It’s okay sugar.” He squeezes my hand as best he can from where he’s awkwardly folded himself inside the ambulance beside me. “I’m sure someone from the family will bring whatever we need.”
His palm rests on my leg while the paramedics move around us.
“Just focus on breathing,” he says softly. “We’ll be at the hospital in no time.”
“Miles…” Panic claws up my throat. “Dr. Moran is in Charlotte. She won’t make it in time.”
My heartbeat spikes wildly on the monitor.
“Ma’am, we need you to slow your breathing,” one of the paramedics says as she places an oxygen cannula beneath my nose. “Try to stay calm for the baby.”
I close my eyes tightly and send a silent prayer to heaven.
Please give me strength.
Please let the baby be okay.
“We didn’t choose her name yet,” I whisper brokenly.
Miles grabs my hand with both his.
“I know, sugar,” he says thickly. “We’ll figure it out once she’s in our arms. One thing at a time.”
His eyes shine with emotion.
For one brief second, he looks away.
I catch the tears sliding down his face before he quickly wipes them away and forces himself to breathe.
Then he looks back at me with a crooked smile that completely wrecks me.
He’s trying so hard to stay strong for both of us, but I know this is breaking his heart.
The ambulance jerks to a stop, and everything moves fast after that.
The paramedics wheel me through the emergency entrance while doctors and nurses swarm around the gurney.
Medical terms fly around the room faster than I can process. Questions about contractions. About weeks. About fetal distress.
I barely manage to keep up.
Then suddenly, Miles’s hand slips from mine as they rush me down another hallway.
“Wait,” I gasp, close to full-blown panic. “I need him. He’s my—my partner.”
“He’ll join you as soon as he changes into surgical gear,” someone reassures me while continuing to push the bed forward.
I nod, clinging to those words.
Please hurry, Miles.
As soon as they wheel me into the operating room, the steady beeping of monitors overwhelms me. Too many people move around me at once. Too many voices speak over each other. Too many hands touch me.
Panic claws up my throat so fast I can barely breathe.
“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“The baby’s heart rate is dropping to dangerous levels,” one of the doctors explains quickly while someone adjusts wires against my chest. “We need to put you under general anesthesia. There’s no time for an epidural. Are you okay with that?”
