I nodded distractedly.
The more I thought about this face-sitting idea, the more merit I thought it had. I imagined a conversation with Leander:
You don’t want to talk to me about the past? Fine. Then eat me out until you do.
Then at least I could feel pleasure and he could be the one tortured for a while by smelling and tasting me but not being able to do anything else about it other than smell and taste some more.
I’d let him tap out only when he was ready to tell me everything. And I do mean EVERYTHING.
I clung to the bottle of pills in my hand along with the prescription and a list of instructions and information about pregnancy-related anemia in both Italian and English. Then I headed out of the office and back down the hallway towards the waiting room.
Anemia. God. Makayla was right. I should have gone to the doctor as soon as I started feeling lightheaded last week.
Why did I always do that? Put myself last?
“Hope!” I looked up at Makayla’s voice. “What did the doctor say? Are the babies alright?”
I looked up at her and started telling her everything the doctor told me. I was still a little out of it. Suddenly, loud voices caught my attention.
“I told you my children are in danger and you need to let me through. Do you know who I am? I mean my brother. Do you know who my brother is?”
What the—
All six foot four of Leander Mavros was at the opposite end of the waiting room, in the first zone where everyone waited before patients were processed and moved to this more internal, quieter waiting room where only one family member at a time was allowed back.
We’d lied and said Makayla was my sister—with different married last names, obviously.
Makayla’s head swung in the same direction, and her brows fell. “Shit.”
“You called him!” I hissed, not sure if I was more furious or just overwhelmed after everything I’d already been through.
“You were on the floor screaming at me to call an ambulance!” Makayla said. “You’re as big as a house with those babies. Sorry not sorry, yeah, I called in some reinforcements for help. I was freaked the hell out.”
I breathed a long breath out through my teeth, then reached out for her arm. “The doctor said to have someone by me for the next twenty-four hours till I’m sure the iron pills are working, in case I get dizzy again. She had some quick dissolve tabs on hand but still.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Makayla said and I nodded my head.
“Exactly.”
Makayla shook her head towards Leander, who had only gotten louder now that I was in his eye line. He was gesturing wildly towards me and Makayla. I imagined the attendants were explaining only one family member could be back here at a time and were quickly losing patience with him. Besides, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that I was okay now.
Still, I took pity on him. If he kept up like that, he’d get security called on his ass.
“Come on,” I said grimly.
I expected Leander’s shitfit to turn towards me once I got closer. He’d lashed out at me childishly before about things that weren’t my fault.
Instead, though, once I was past the barrier, he rushed to me and—
Threw his arms around me, abandoning his crutches so that they clattered to the ground.
“Thank God you’re alright.” Then he pulled back, balancing on his good leg. I blinked in shock. Both at his increased mobility and the emotion on his face.
“You are okay, aren’t you? And—” His eyes dropped to my belly.
“Yes,” I hurried quickly to assure him. “We’re all fine.”
He pulled me back into another bear hug.
“Thank God,” was all he seemed to be able to say. Over and over again. His fingers started combing through my hair.
And finally, all the tears I’d been holding back so bravely burst through the dam. I sobbed into his chest and he held me, murmuring, “Shhh, shhhh,” and rubbing my back.
And that, apparently, was my breaking point.
I’d kept my shit together throughout the entire ideal. While yes, I had screamed at Makayla to call an ambulance, I hadn’t cried once.
I’d gone into emergency management mode. Something I’d perfected during my years as Makayla’s and Destiny’s publicist, actually. I’d never thought of it before, but I guess being publicist and confidante to two preteen and then teenager girls had given me a crash-course in Mom-ing.
Except I’d met them when they were already twelve at least.
I’d never felt more helpless than with these little beings so small they hadn’t even yet taken their first breath of air yet. They’d finally passed 30 weeks and were theoretically old enough to survive outside the womb (in a NICU, but still). They were helpless. Completely dependent on me not to do shit like fuck-up by not getting iron in my system so I passed out and sent their nice little carrying case toppling down a flight of stairs.