Epiphany Page 12

  The waiter walks off to get our drinks and I go back to the menu. “The scampi sounds

  amazing,” I say, my mouth watering as the words roll off my tongue. Skylar coughs

  and my eyes dart to his, ready for an argument. “Let me guess. I can’t have that,

  either.” Skylar shakes his head and tries to hide his smirk.

  “No shellfish,” he says, pushing the menu higher until I can only see his eyes.

  “Great,” I sigh, moving down to the steaks. “A porterhouse?” How ridiculous is this? A grown woman running her food choices by her fiancé.

  “Probably not. You like your steak cooked medium rare and you shouldn’t have undercooked meat.”

  “What exactly can I have then?” The only thing keeping this paper in my hand and not flying across

  the room is the prices on the menu. Expensive restaurants and crazy people don’t

  mix too well.

  Skylar peruses my choices, pointing out a few items that are apparently food for pregnant women—salad, chicken, and pasta.

  “Chicken,” I huff, already pissed off about my dinner. No place ever cooks it right; always dry and tasteless—just like my fucking water.

  The waiter returns with our drinks, or lack thereof, and takes our dinner order. When Skylar’s about to tell him he wants the chicken, I kick him rather hard under the table, letting him know not to screw with me. Thankfully he gets the hint and orders the salmon, which I hate anyway, so it’s a win for him.

  I’m picking at the bread, careful not to put too much butter on any given piece, in fear of another lecture. I can handle being without shellfish and undercooked meat for a few months. If you try to take away my butter, I might cut you on the spot.

  “You know the good thing about being pregnant?” Skylar asks.

  Rolling my eyes and shoving another bite of bread in my mouth, I answer, “What would that be? That I can drink all the water I want?”

  “No, smartass. You can have all the dessert you want.” Oh, really now? This is a very interesting fact, one that I’d like to

  know more about.

  “Keep talking.” My spirits automatically lifted. I’m considering canceling our dinner order and asking for the dessert menu right now.

  “This place has the best chocolate mousse in the city. Kinky told me about it the other night and made sure to emphasize that there’s no limit. I even checked the baby book—it’s true.” My lips turn upward and I’m not longer angry at life, but ready to finish my dry-ass chicken so I can have something sweet.

  Right on cue, the waiter deposits our plates and returns a moment after that with

  the dessert choices. I take a few bites of the chicken, which to my surprise isn’t

  dry at all; it’s the most delicious picata I’ve ever eaten. The asparagus is also

  steamed to perfection and the mashed potatoes are fantastic. I had planned on consuming

  only a small amount, just enough to appease Skylar, but I can’t help myself. I’d

  give this meal five stars all day long.

  When everything is cleared away, the waiter is back, waiting for our next order.

  Scanning my choices, I make the decision for both of us. “I’ll have the chocolate

  mousse and he’ll have the lava cake ala mode.”

  “I was thinking I’d have the raspberry cheesecake,” Skylar pipes in, throwing me off. The waiter stares between us, unsure of what to do.

  “The cheesecake as well, please,” I dismiss him. Skylar’s shoulders bounce with laughter, making me silently giggle.

  “I don’t eat chocolate. Why would you order that for me?” he asks between chuckles.

  “How the hell am I gonna look ordering all that for me? Pregnant or not, I can’t let people think I’m some kind of fat ass. I ate every bite of that chicken, half the bread basket and then two desserts. No, I can’t.”

  “You’re something else.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  This is exactly what I needed—a casual night out with Skylar. Finally, I’m able to enjoy this pregnancy without any of the added pressure of talking about it constantly. It’s a breath of fresh air. I’m smitten a little, too, knowing Skylar’s done so much research already. I never thought he wouldn’t be a good father, but the way he’s caring for me as well … it’s the best feeling any soon-to-be-mother could have.

  When the food arrives, I waste no time digging in, devouring every bite of mine and a few of Skylar’s. Everything’s so damn delicious I place a separate order for an entire cheesecake to take home. I think I’m going to quickly get over this fear of being judged, especially when things taste this good. I’d be a fool to let it bother me.

  As we’re waiting on the valet attendant to return with the car, a sudden wave of exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks. Standing on the side of the road, I’m barely able to hold my eyes open. I’m probably experiencing a food coma and it feels so good.

  Forgoing the rest of our evening, Skylar agrees to take me home so I can rest. We

  had planned on going to the casino after dinner. There’s no possible way I could

  make it through a night of gambling and the thought of the smoking old ladies who

  just got their social security checks is enough to make me gag.

  My stomach turns and a small amount of bile comes up my throat. Oh hell. I’ve not

  had much morning sickness, but it’s all hitting me now.

  Swallowing down whatever’s trying to come up, I manage to keep everything down … for

  now. Walking in the front door, the first thing to go is my shoes, followed by my

  jacket and bra. The last week, my breasts have been so sore and swollen, keeping

  them in the confines of a sexy, lacy bra the entire night was almost too much to handle.

  Scratching my boobs, much like my grandfather scratches his belly after Thanksgiving dinner, I find myself staring in my closet, searching for something. Skylar comes up behind me, taking over the scratching, I’m sure just to cop a feel, and stares deep into the space with me.

  “What are you looking for?” What the hell am I looking for? I know I wanted something.

  “I don’t remember,” I sigh, racking my brain, trying to remember what I was doing.

  Jammies!

  “Need something to wear to bed,” I say, laughing at my forgetfulness.

  “I read about this, too. I think they called it ‘Pregnant Brain’. There are a lot of women that forget things at the drop of a dime. You’re not losing your mind … yet, anyway,” he kids, walking to the dresser and taking off his watch.

  Pulling a clean tank top from the hanger and a pair of cotton shorts from the drawer,

  I change quickly and jump into bed. Skylar’s not far behind with the cheesecake,

  two forks and TV remote. He knows me better than I know myself sometimes.

  He turns on a recorded episode of Grey’s Anatomy and takes a bite of the cake. Leaning over, I kiss him softly, the taste of raspberries

  invading my mouth. Licking my lips, I turn my attention back to the TV and watch

  McDreamy fight with Meredith about something while I scoot closer to my McYummy.

  ****

  There’s only about half an hour left on the ship until we’re back to the dock. Skylar

  leads me outside to the deck for a little privacy. Even though there are maybe only

  twenty people aboard, including the captain and crew, it’s a little cramped. There

  doesn’t appear to be anyone outside so we’ll make this our little getaway for a bit.

  Sky eyes a few deck chairs and a throw blanket. He leads me toward them, sitting

  down on one of the chairs. I move to sit on the other when Skylar pulls my hand,

  forcing my body to him. He motions for me to sit between his legs and I couldn’t be happier. I gladly lay on him, my

  back to his chest, between his muscular thighs. When Skylar
pulls the throw blanket

  over us, I snuggle even closer. This is what heaven feels like.

  I’ve almost drifted off to sleep when I hear Skylar mumbling behind me, placing light kisses on the top of my head. I don’t know if he wants me to hear what he’s saying so I just stay still and listen.

  “You’re so beautiful. You were made for me.” Kiss. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” Kiss. “I’ve loved you for longer than you even realize.” Kiss. “Probably since the day you were born.” Kiss. “God made you just for me.” Kiss. “There’s never going to be anyone else.” Kiss. “I’m going to live everyday to make you smile.”

  When the tears start rolling down my cheeks, I can’t help it. I turn around quickly

  and look my sweet man in his eyes. I love him so much, my heart’s about to beat out

  of my chest. Every single thing he said to me I feel for him. He’s everything.

  He’s my everything.

  Waking up from the most amazing dream—more of a memory—of our first date, I reach

  over to Skylar who’s still fast asleep. The TV still going in the background and

  the empty cheesecake container tipped over at the foot of the bed, I look over at

  the alarm clock. 6 AM. Still pretty early.

  I move to roll over and go back to sleep for a few hours, when I feel something sticky

  between my thighs. If I’ve diddled and came in my sleep, I’m never going to live

  it down. Scurrying to get out of bed and clean up this mess, I rush into the bathroom

  for a wash cloth to clean my legs.

  I wait to turn the light on until the door’s closed, hoping to not wake Skylar. Flipping

  the switch, the room illuminates and I grab the rag I used earlier in the shower.

  Turning on the water and waiting for it to get warm, I dampen the towel and rub the

  insides of my legs. It’s not until I go to rinse it and clean more, that I realize

  the pink tinted water in the sink basin.

  Quickly removing the shorts, it’s the amount of blood that has me rushing to the toilet.

  I barely get the lid up before everything I’ve consumed comes spewing out. “Skylar,”

  I choke between vomiting spells. Every time I glance to my bloodied shorts lying

  on the white rug, my stomach recoils again. “Skylar!” I scream, praying he can hear me over the rushing water in the sink and the closed door.

  “Eat too much cheesecake,” he says, still groggy from sleep.

  “Babe,” I cry, pointing to my shorts.

  “What is it?” he asks, before looking down. When his brain catches up with his eyes,

  the sheer terror drains his face of any color. “Oh God, Mira. What do we do?” Panic setting in, I try to answer, but I start heaving again.

  Once I’ve finished vomiting, Skylar picks me up off the floor and carries me into the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he roots through the closet,

  throwing clothes at me, urging me to get dressed. I stand up to pull on a pair of

  sweat pants and stare at the very large blood stain on my side of the bed. I stop

  in my tracks and know … just know that I’ve lost this baby. That’s too much blood

  for it to be casual bleeding like most women experience during their pregnancy.

  “Mira, come on. We’re going to the hospital,” Skylar says, helping me pull my pants

  up the rest of the way.

  “What’s the point? I’m not pregnant anymore,” I say flatly. Still not moving, Skylar

  pulls a hooded sweatshirt over my head and my arms through the sleeves. Dragging

  me by the hand, he pulls me into the living room and pushes me slightly so I sit on

  the couch.

  Emotionless, I watch him grab my sneakers from the front door. Carefully, he picks

  up one foot and puts the shoe on and ties the laces, followed by the next. Hoisting

  me in his arms, he carries me to through the apartment, grabs his keys from the counter

  and walks us into the elevator. My arms are wrapped so tightly around his neck, I’m shocked he can actually breathe. He never makes an attempt to put me down until

  we reach the car, where he sits me in the front seat.

  “Seatbelt,” he says once in the driver’s seat. I know he’s talking, but I can’t make

  myself do anything. What’s the point? Nothing’s going to save this baby, he’s already gone.

  Skylar reaches across me, grabs the seatbelt and clicks it into place. Putting the

  car in gear, he races out of the parking garage, barely avoiding taking his mirrors

  off as he passes through the gate. When we pull up to the hospital, he doesn’t bother

  parking the car, but pulls straight to the entrance. Turning the engine off and pulling

  the keys from the ignition, it’s mere seconds before I’m in his arms again, being carried through the automatic doors.

  Skylar tosses the security guard the keys and walks straight to the triage desk, disregarding

  anyone else who’s been waiting.

  “My fiancée. She’s bleeding,” he says, trying to catch his breath.

  “Where from, sir?” the nurse asks, looking me up and down.

  “My baby’s gone,” I lifelessly mutter. The nurse takes my arm, and by my guess, she’s gauging my pulse.

  “Ma’am? Are you pregnant?”

  “I was.”

  “When I woke up she was in the bathroom vomiting and there was blood all over her shorts and the bed. I think she’s losing the baby. You guys stopped it the last time. Stop it again!” Skylar screams.

  “Okay, sir. Let’s get her back and we’ll do the paperwork later. Follow me.” Skylar’s

  hot on her heels, me still in his arms. I don’t know why he’s rushing. They won’t

  be able to do anything. The emptiness is seeping into my soul, blocking out everything

  around me.

  A doctor comes into the exam room minutes after Skylar sets me on the gurney. He’s asking questions and I vaguely hear Skylar answering them for me. A hospital gown appears on the bed out of nowhere. I make no moves to disrobe and put it on. Just as Sky dressed me earlier, he undresses me, wraps the gown around my body and drapes a sheet across my legs.

  An unknown amount of time passes and the doctor comes back in the room with a portable

  ultrasound machine. Skylar takes the seat to my right and the doctor sets everything

  up to my right. Lowering the sheet and putting warm goo on my belly, he pulls the

  wand out and starts searching for my baby. I can’t watch him. It’s a lost cause.

  I’m a lost cause.

  Instead, I stare in the direction of Skylar. I already know what’s he’s going to

  say, but it’s not until tears freely fall from Skylar’s eyes and he latches onto my

  hand that it’s confirmed.

  Suddenly, fright replaces Skylar’s sorrow and more people enter my room. I glance around, trying to understand what’s happening.

  “Mira? Mira stay with us,” the doctor prompts.

  “I’m here,” I respond.

  The last thing I remember is the doctor’s rough knuckles rubbing frantically on my chest. Then everything starts to fade.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Skylar

  “Mira!” I scream as the doctor tries to bring her back. Mira’s body lies unresponsive on

  the gurney and there are at least five people in the small room, trying everything

  they can.

  “Sir, you’re going to have to step out,” the original doctor says while pounding on Mira’s chest. The nurse standing next to him prepares the paddles to shock her back if this doesn’t work. A second nurse is behind Mira, getting ready to intubate her.

  “I’m not fucking leaving her. Fix her!” Still screaming, a security guard twice my size enters through the cu
rtain, thinking he’s intimidating me. No luck, big guy. “Call your dogs off. I’m not leaving her.”

  “Sir,” the security guard’s baritone voice sounds from behind me.

  “No. You might wanna go get a buddy or two. I’m not fucking leaving her.”

  “She’s back,” another doctor calls, pulling up the rails on the gurney and unlocking the wheels.

  “What’s going on? Where are you taking her?” I stand in front of the gurney, not allowing it past me until someone gives me some answers.

  The original doctor steps into my personal space, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve seen this kind of thing before. I believe she’s got some internal bleeding and we need to get it under control. It’s most likely a ruptured cyst or something simple like that, but with her abdomen filling we need to fix the problem before it’s even more out of hand. I’m going to need you to go to the waiting room and someone will come out and update you as soon as we have some information.”

  Stepping out of the way, Mira rolls past me, eyes half closed, not looking her usual self, headed for an operating room. I know we weren’t fighting, but the last thing she’ll remember if she doesn’t make it out is me crying—mourning the loss of our baby. I can’t lose them both in the same day.

  “I love you,” I scream down the hallway, wanting to make sure she knows … just in case.

  As I make my way to the waiting room, I notice the sign for the chapel. If there’s

  any time to ask the man upstairs for a little assistance and guidance, it’s now.

  Walking through the heavy stained glass doors, I’m in awe at how beautiful it actually is. Actually never having been inside one before, it’s shockingly breathtaking. A few small rows of pews lead up toward an altar with small candles lit on the pulpit. Taking a seat in the back, I bow my head and do the only logical thing to do at a time like this. Pray.

  God, please don’t take her. Mira constantly tells me that everything always happens for a reason. You must have had a reason to take my child. He’s in your care now, but not her, too. I have so much love to show her and so many more memories to make. I’ve made mistakes and haven’t come to you in a long time, but this is really important. Please, just let me have more time with her. I just need more time to prove she made the right choice.