Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1) (20 page)

His words went through me and settled right underneath my skin.

When I failed to respond again Naseem went on, adding more negativity to the heap. “Brynn, you can’t
possibly
be that naïve,” he scoffed.

I rubbed my temples harder when the pain intensified, but it didn’t help.

A fool. Naïve. These were the words my
friend
used to describe me.

During the bout of silence, I took note of the fact that Naseem didn’t bother to clean up his statement. He said exactly what he meant to. This time and the last. I knew this despite that weak apology he’d just given.

A heavy sigh on the other end of the phone made my heart leap, knowing there was more he had to say. Already, he’d shocked me with the several, cold generalizations he made, but apparently there was more.

“I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but you were right. This—watching you play house with this guy, watching you ruin your life—it’s too much,” he blurted. “I thought I could handle it because I stupidly convinced myself that this wouldn’t change you, that
he
wouldn’t change you, but… I think I’m done.”

The few ounces of sympathy I had for Naseem slipped away and the sting of all his harsh words were all that remained. Sadness, pain—those emotions were secondary to the anger I felt.

I. Was. Livid.

The audacity it took to say all these things to me when I’d done
nothing
to deserve it was inconceivable to me.

I’d just opened my mouth to tell him to never call me again, but a jolt of pain, in my stomach this time instead of my head, stole my breath and my hand went there, to that spot where the pain struck. When I groaned into the phone, Naseem called out to me after a moment, once he realized something was wrong. There was concern heavy in his voice despite the heated exchange that had just taken place between us.

“Brynn?” he said a second time.

I couldn’t speak.

“Brynn? Are you all right?”

Still, no answer came. All I could do was curl up as I lie on my side, praying for the pain to stop.

He breathed into the phone. “…I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Naseem apologized, maybe thinking he’d made me cry, but I barely even heard a word he said.

Panic was setting in quickly and all I managed to force out was one short, strained sentence: “Something’s wrong.”

There was a brief pause while Naseem figured it out. “I’m calling 9-1-1,” he said in a rush, telling me to hold the line while he dialed them in on three-way. The phone slipped from my hand after that, so I didn’t hear the conversation, but I was desperate for help.

I felt dizzy and nauseas and scared out of my mind. The pain spread down my thighs and hot tears streaked my face, dotting my pillow. Naseem’s voice came through again, but faintly this time because it wasn’t to my ear. I also heard the voice of an emergency dispatcher as Naseem stuttered my address. He was eventually able to convey to her all the correct information, also remembering to have her make a note of where I kept my spare key so the paramedics could get in. According to the operator, someone would get to me in a few minutes, but even
that
felt like too long.

God… please don’t let anything be wrong.

Please.

*****

Marco

I couldn’t get her voice out of my head, hearing those monitors beeping in the background. She was scared and I just wanted to get to her.

“I need you here,” she confessed, those words causing me to speed even more at the thought of them. When the call came through, I was in the middle of showering, but I started keeping my phone close no matter what I was doing, for this very reason.

The person I cut off honked their horn, but I didn’t pay them any attention. All I could think about was getting to the hospital and up to that room to make sure Brynn was okay. I parked my truck and cleared the lot quickly as I ran to the entrance, reciting her room number quietly to myself on my way to the elevator. The second the people stepped out of it, I hopped on and rode it up to the fourth floor—
Labor and Delivery.

The nurses at the station in the center of the horseshoe-shaped reception area all looked up when I rushed down the hallway, counting down the numbers on the wall, searching for Brynn’s. When I got to it, I didn’t even bother to knock, just barged in, needing to see for myself that she was okay, but laying eyes on a dude I didn’t recognize nearly made me back out of the room. I thought I’d entered the wrong one. However, the next set of eyes staring back at me—familiar and a warm shade of brown—changed that.

I was definitely in the right place, but…
who the hell was he?

For now, I ignored him, but glanced up one last time before going to Brynn’s side, taking her hand.

“How are you? What happened?” I asked, hearing the panic in my own voice, not caring if she heard it, too. I was pretty sure she knew by now that I cared—about our daughter, about her.

She shook her head and forced a smile, but that didn’t ease my mind at all. “I’m okay.”

The cord of the monitor hung from beneath the blanket covering her. My eyes followed it to the screen and I stared at the lines and numbers, not understanding what any of it meant.

“What’re the doctor’s saying?”

A deep breath left Brynn’s mouth. “Nothing yet. They ran a few tests. Now I’m just waiting for the results.”

I looked her over from head to toe, wanting to ask more questions, wanting to know what symptoms landed her here, but I didn’t want to discuss that in front of whoever this guy was.

My eyes left Brynn’s and went to the dude who hadn’t said a word since I walked into the room, the one who kept staring like
I
wasn’t supposed to be here.

I nodded toward the stranger, but spoke only to Brynn. “Who’s this?”

When I addressed him, he leveled a look my way—a look most women wouldn’t pick up on, but a man could never miss it. It was at that moment that I knew this was the friend Brynn mentioned; the one she was seeing for a while.

“This is… this is Naseem,” she stammered, maybe feeling the tension vibrating between her friend and I.

I hadn’t said much about their situation because it wasn’t my place to. Throughout this entire process, Brynn and I were both up front about who we’ve been seeing, no matter how insignificant those people were in the big scheme of things. But she and I weren’t together, so I hid it well whenever a mild case of jealousy kicked in at the thought of her spending time with this guy. The closer I got to her, the less I liked the idea of him hanging around. And I knew I’d like it even less once my daughter was in the picture.

No, one kiss didn’t make Brynn mine; I’m not ignorant, but I can admit to feeling more for her than I realized
before
it happened. However, in an effort to avoid coming across like some caveman staking his claim, I decided to be the bigger man.

When I extended my hand to shake Naseem’s, he stood and locked on over Brynn’s hospital bed as she stared at the tight grip we had on one another. Neither of us wore much of an expression and his shoulders squared to match mine.

“Marco,” I said, introducing myself.

He nodded once and I felt his hand tighten around mine. “Naseem. Nice to finally meet you,” was all he said. His accent left me wondering where he was from. Somewhere in the Middle East from the sound of it.

With that one exchange, it became clear that his distaste for me was almost as strong as mine was for him. I released his hand, but kept my eyes on him as he continued to stand at the opposite side of the bed, staring me down, too.

“Uhhh… Naseem? Would you mind giving Marco and I some privacy to talk?” Brynn interjected. It was then that I noted the tone she took with him—flat, distant. It matched the chill in the air. I didn’t expect that, seeing as how they’re supposed to be friends.

Keeping his gaze locked on me, he responded to Brynn’s request. “I’ll be in the waiting room.”

I watched as he left the room and then turned back to Brynn. The sight of her changed my mood instantly. Being near her softened me. Maybe it was knowing that the life growing inside her was also a part of me, but, whatever it was, it was hard to be mad at
anyone
around her.

I walked to the other side of her bed and took the seat her friend once filled, slipping my hand beneath hers right after.

“I don’t understand how you ended up here,” I said, feeling like a huge part of the story was missing. It was still pretty early in the day, so what could’ve happened? “Are you still taking your medication like the doctor told you to?”

“I am. I was just—” was as far as she got before we heard the door to her room creak open. My initial thought was that dude didn’t know how to follow directions and needed a reminder of where his place was, but then a white lab coat made me settle down again. It was only the physician.

“Hello,” the man said, directing the greeting toward me.

I nodded and replied with the same. Next, his eyes shifted toward Brynn and there was a look of concern behind them that I didn’t like.

“Have you still been experiencing the contractions?” he asked, immediately causing me to listen harder.

Contractions? She was only coming up on her sixth month…

Brynn shook her head. “Not nearly as bad as I was a little while ago,” she answered. “Only one in the last half hour.”

The doctor nodded and then came over to check the monitor, scanning the paper printout that hung beneath it.

“Well, the baby has a very strong heartbeat, so that’s excellent,” he began, “but I’m a little concerned with your blood pressure spike. I can see that it’s come down significantly based on the nurse’s notes, but there’s no doubt in my mind that’s what brought on the Braxton Hicks contractions.”

I felt so lost. “What’s that?”

The doctor turned toward me to answer. “False labor pains,” he explained. “They’re usually not as intense as Ms. Palmer experienced today, but, like I said, the blood pressure spike is likely what caused them to be so severe.”

Brynn lowered her head, wiggling her foot beneath the blanket as she thought.

“Everything’s okay, though, right?” I had to ask.

The doctor nodded. “Yes. The bloodwork and urinalysis came back perfect; her cervix hasn’t dilated at all. I’d like to keep her a few more hours for observations, but I think you’ll be getting out of here today. Of course, follow up with your doctor as soon as possible, but other than that, my only orders are for you to take it easy for the rest of the day and avoid any and all stress.”

Stress
.

The first thing that came to mind was Brynn not working. That had to be weighing on her and, if I had to guess, was the cause of this episode. My conversation with Turner days ago came to mind again and, if he knew what was good for him, he’d be giving me a call by the date we discussed. It didn’t make sense that, in Brynn’s condition, she should have to worry about this.

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll make sure she rests,” I promised as he left the room. Next, I immediately glanced over at Brynn, but she wouldn’t look at me. I’d only known about her losing her job for a week, but she’d been out of work for three. I doubted there was a coincidence between her bills coming up due again and this. She said she had money in her savings, but I didn’t know a dollar amount, nor did I think she was fully comfortable depleting it to live off of.

“You have to let me help you,” I stated plainly. “You heard the doctor say this was stress-related. It’s not good for you. It’s not good for the baby,” I reasoned. She still didn’t respond, so I went on, wanting her to hear me. “All I’ve kept telling you from the beginning is that you’re not in this by yourself. I know you don’t like the idea of me carrying you, but… dammit, Brynn… you’re the one person I
am
supposed to carry.”

When I raised my voice, I saw her cringe and I paused. Not wanting to add to the day’s problem, I took a breath and changed my tone. “I just want you to be able to relax and be comfortable. That’s it. You’ve got a few months left and I want you to be happy—not out here looking for work or worrying about how you’re gonna pay your bills. Just…” I paused, hesitating for only a moment before lightly resting my hand on her stomach. “Just focus on her,” I added, realizing I was damn-near pleading.

The thought of something happening to either one of them because of something as petty as money was inconceivable to me, especially when I was in a position to do something about it. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her about Turner, but in the event that he wasn’t able to pull through, I didn’t want to get her hopes up for nothing.

Brynn’s hand came down on top of mine where it rested on her stomach and I stared at it.

“Marco, I…” she stopped midsentence, but I waited anxiously to hear her response; anxious to hear if she’d finally give in and accept what I’d been trying to offer. The words, “That wasn’t it,” came in a soft voice and I stared up at her now, not understanding. “My bills are all taken care of; it wasn’t about money,” she clarified.

I racked my brain, trying to figure out what else could have possibly gotten her upset. My eyes scanned the floor while I thought. That’s when something hit me. I recalled who was sitting in the room when I walked in.