“I can do that. No problem.”
“Great, now worst thing’s first—I need to do a pelvic exam just to make sure everything looks okay, and then we can call in whomever you’d like from the waiting room so they can watch the ultrasound with you.”
Thankfully, she sped through the exam portion of the appointment inflicting minimal discomfort, and then she left briefly to go get Mason. Minutes later, he entered the room with a huge smile, and I instantly felt calmer just being in his presence. He walked over to me where I lay on the exam table and gave me a quick kiss.
“You ready to see our little peanut, Mase?” I whispered.
Nodding, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly to his chest. “You have no idea.”
Dr. Scott reentered the room and got everything set up so we could all see the screen. She explained she was going to do the ultrasound inter-vaginally since I didn’t have a full bladder, and told us to ask questions at any time. Within seconds, our eyes were glued to the monitor in front of us, waiting for her to explain what the amoeba-like structures floating around were. I noticed a look of surprise briefly flash across her face, followed by her jotting some notes down.
“I’m not quite sure how to say this, so I’m just going to be blunt.” Glancing at me, Mason, and then back at the screen, she continued, “You see this? This is your baby’s heart beating.” She pointed at the screen, and the heartbeat inside of a little sea monkey looking thing was clearly evident. My own heart soared from seeing our little baby for the first time, and I peered over at Mason’s face to see tears threatening to spill from his eyes; he smiled down at me and squeezed my hand even more tightly.
She moved the wand over a bit to focus on another similar pulsating form. “And this is your other baby’s heart beating. Congratulations—you’re having twins!”
SCARLETT
Laughing out loud as I relive that day in my head, I still keep in touch with Dr. Scott even now. After the shock wore off enough that I could stand up and walk out of the examination room, she made me promise to let her know how the pregnancy progressed. She even asked Mason and the rest of the band for an autograph before we left. Whenever I had a question about anything at all, no matter how small, I knew I could always call or email her, and she’d advise me what to do, or let me know if it was normal or not. I only wish she could’ve been there when the twins were born. That was a delivery like no other.
Swinging my legs around underneath me so I’m kneeling over the container of photos, I dig through the ones remaining, trying to find some from their birthday. It doesn’t take me long to locate them—all I had to look for was blue hair.
News of the twins spread like wildfire through the media. I refused to peruse celebrity news any longer—not wanting to see the headlines of how I trapped Mason into the engagement, or how I was going to birth two antichrists—so I didn’t know what truth, if any, was being published. Everywhere we went, people would ask how I felt, how far along I was, if we had picked out names, etcetera. The questions were repetitive and got tiring, but I was always polite and courteous to the people who paid me the same respect.
We’d found out I was fourteen weeks the day of our appointment with Dr. Scott, which gave me a due date of roughly March third, give or take a week. The tour was set to end the last week of January, and the guys were supposed to record in LA beginning in February, so we chose a primary doctor there instead of Houston. Sophie and I flew out to meet her around my twenty-week mark, and even though she wasn’t Dr. Scott-friendly, she was nice enough, and was understanding of my situation. Because I was carrying twins, and the likelihood I’d make it to full-term was slim, she requested I stop traveling at thirty weeks. I actually stayed on the bus until thirty-two weeks, because I was feeling great and desperately wanted to spend Christmas and New Year’s with Mason and the gang.
Immediately after the first of the year, I moved into a hotel in the heart of LA by myself, while Jobu’s Rum finished up the last three weeks of performances. At first, it was a bit overwhelming being big, pregnant, and all alone in a strange city, but I adjusted quickly. Mason and I FaceTimed with one another every morning when he woke up, and every night when he got ready for bed. I’d usually cry for a good five minutes each time we hung up, but I chalked it up to the raging hormones consuming my body. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Campbell’s Soup commercials to ignite an onslaught of waterworks during that time. I spent the rest of my time reading and writing reviews for the blog I’d started in Evie’s memory, going to my weekly doctor’s visits, and walking the trails at a nearby park to stay somewhat active.
Before I knew it, the tour was over, and Mason and the band were all in LA with me. I was on cloud nine. Sophie threw me a surprise baby shower that Max, Andi, Mina, and Noah all flew out for. In addition, Ash’s sister and mom attended, which meant so much to me; I couldn’t express to them how elated I was that they came. In light of everyone being there together, Mason and I revealed the names of the babies at the party: Everett Matthew and Ashlynn Marley. As soon as everyone heard the names—knowing they were in honor of Evie and Ash—there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Two beautiful lives had been taken from us, but we were now being blessed with two new ones. I could only hope they were watching over us from above.
A week or so later, as we inched closer and closer to the due date, I found out about a huge author signing taking place that weekend in Hollywood. Jobu’s Rum was scheduled to play at an outdoor festival in San Diego the same afternoon, and because it was so close, they weren’t even going to stay the night; they’d just go down there for the show and head back. I knew the doctor had warned me about being on my feet for long periods of time, but I was feeling great, and with only four weeks to go ‘til D-day, it appeared that I just might make it. I managed to get last minute tickets thanks to Kayla, a fellow blogger, and an amazing friend I’d made in the book world the previous year—and I talked Sophie into going with me. Unfortunately, the night before the event, her grandmother fell extremely ill and Sophie caught the first red-eye back to Houston.
Concerned about leaving me alone, Mason said he could cancel their appearance, but I insisted that he went. He’d only be gone about eight hours total with travel, and I would surely be okay in that timeframe. Secretly, I wanted him to go so I could still attend the signing, knowing damn well he would frown upon me going alone. I had dilated to a three, and was forty percent effaced at my previous doctor’s appointment. She’d recommended I stay off my feet as much as possible, but I disregarded her suggestion, claiming I felt fine. Thankfully, he headed out in the late morning for the show, kissing me goodbye a thousand times and promising he’d be back as soon as possible.
Throughout the entire pregnancy, he was overly-attentive and thoughtful, doting on me every chance he got. His hands were always on my belly, especially once he could feel them kick. We would lie on the bed in the back of the bus for hours, and he would kiss my body from head to toe, telling me how beautiful I was and what a perfect mother I was going to be. Mercifully, the pregnancy didn’t freak him out in regards to sex, because there were a couple months during the second trimester I felt like a sixteen-year-old boy. I couldn’t get enough. All I wanted was to read erotica, and then I’d try to replicate whatever scene I’d envisioned in my head. He did draw the line at using restraints though, but promised me if I was still interested after the babies were born and when we were in our own place he’d take me up on the offer. I was counting the days.
As soon as he was gone, I hurriedly took a shower and began to get ready. I wanted to dress cute since I knew I’d be taking photos with some of my favorite authors, but seriously, how cute can a girl in her thirty-sixth week of pregnancy with twins really be? Every article of clothing I owned had an elastic waistband and a tie under the boobs. I threw on my one pair of designer maternity jeans and a flowy, black blouse, before blow-drying my long hair straight and putting on a touch of make-up. One great thing about being pregnan
t was with all the prenatal vitamins I’d been taking, my hair looked better than it ever had before. Not that my great hair was going to help alleviate the stretch marks across my lower abdomen and gigantic jugs that were once my cute, perky boobs. I wasn’t sure how much these babies were planning on eating, but based strictly on my bra size, I was sure I could feed them for a good three years.
Once I was somewhat pleased with my reflection in the mirror, I slid my swollen feet in some flip flops, snagged my purse from the kitchen counter, and headed out the door. The cab ride was a short fifteen minutes, and as I walked up to the hotel where the event was being held, I started to get eager and anxious. Upon entering the room, I was handed a tote bag and a map of where the authors were sitting. In order to make it easy for everyone, they’d been set up in alphabetical order by their last name.
Gazing around the crowded room, I decided to start from the beginning to make sure I didn’t miss anyone. The first table I stopped at was Belle Aurora’s. Her novel, RAW, was one that I praised for weeks after reading it. It was so different than anything I’d read, and I truly fell in love with it from the very first page. From there, I stopped to purchase books from nearly every author in attendance. I couldn’t restrain myself. Looking at the faces of the other readers there, I loved seeing the same glowing expression I was sure I sported. It was almost surreal to be in a room with this many authors I absolutely adored. When I reached Lisa De Jong’s table, I spent a little longer there than at the others, as I told her about how I first started my blog, Ever Afters for Evie, with my review of “When It Rains”. She was amazing to talk to, exuding so much appreciation and kindness she made me tear up—damn hormones.
Midway through, I had to take a break for water and to get another tote bag, since I had filled my first. The Braxton Hicks contractions started up as they always did when I was on my feet for a while, but I’d learned to power through. Several women asked me if I was okay, and I quickly assured them I was just taking a breather. After I downed the bottle of water, I set back out on my journey through row after row of authors, buying books and taking pictures the whole way. The cramping really started bothering me as I got to the back wall, but I was determined, knowing I probably wouldn’t have this chance again for a really long time.
With three authors to go—three of my absolute faves—I pushed the nagging pain to the back of my mind and stepped up to Madeline Sheehan’s table. I’d become a fan of hers first with the Holy Trinity Trilogy, but when I read Undeniable, I absolutely fell in love with Deuce. She made feeling dirty feel so good.
“I’ll take Undeniable and Unbeautifully,” I said with an unexpected grimace. I wanted to say so much more to her, like her uncanny ability to make me fall for people I shouldn’t, and how I had sex on a motorcycle and thought about Deuce afterwards—okay, maybe that would’ve been a little weird—but the steadily increasing cramps stole my breath and my voice.
Her assistant handed her the two books as she peered up at me and smiled. “Who would you like these made out to?” she asked in a voice much softer than I expected.
“Scarlett, please,” I choked out in-between breaths. I leaned forward to offer her the yellow sticky note attached to my finger with the correct spelling of my name, when suddenly, a surge of liquid gushed down my legs. Mortification—served warm and wet. Dropping the bags of books and grasping onto the table, it took my brain a few seconds to compute what was happening. Fuck me.
“Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?” The concern in Madeline’s voice was evident.
Shaking my head slightly, I continued to use the table as a crutch, unsure of what to do next. “My water just broke,” I slurred, biting the inside of my cheek as a sharp contraction shot through me.
“Oh fuck! Are you serious? Someone get some help,” she called out to anyone and everyone in the vicinity.
A ruckus around me ensued as a bunch of strangers helped me shuffle over to a chair at a nearby table. Trying desperately to focus on what I needed to do, there were people in my face spouting question after question at me.
“Are you with anyone?” “Who should we call?” “Did you drive here?” “Should I call an ambulance?”
Inhaling and exhaling several deep breaths, I somewhat regained my composure as I looked down at the table where I was sitting. Copies of Ashley Suzanne’s Mirage and Awakening were staring up at me, and when I glanced to my left and saw her sitting directly next to me, she grinned and said, “Now that’s some kind of entrance, Mama.” I laughed—well, I tried to, but I think it came out more like a growl.
When the pain subsided for a minute, I answered all of the questions as quickly as I could before the next contraction came. “I’m here alone. There’s no one in town to call. I didn’t drive; I came in a taxi. And yes, please call an ambulance, unless one of you knows how to deliver babies.”
A streak of blue hair appeared from out of nowhere and knelt down in front of me. I looked down inquisitively, and Tara Sivec’s cheerful face greeted me. “Hey there, sweets. The ambulance will be here in just a few minutes, okay? You don’t have anyone you want me to call?”
“I need to text my fiancé; he’s in San Diego, so it’ll take him a while to get here. I don’t have any other family local.”
“You want me to come with you to the hospital? I’m an awesome cheerleader.” Her offer was kind, but I wasn’t going to ask her to accompany a stranger to the hospital. Following her on Facebook and Twitter, it felt as if I knew her like a close friend, but in reality, I was just another fan. I’d be fine alone.
“I’m okay. You don’t have to do that, but thank—”
I didn’t get the chance to complete my sentence, as the EMT’s pushed through the crowd with a gurney, helped me up onto it, and then loaded me into the back of the ambulance. I swear the driver took the longest possible route to the hospital, stopped at lights that weren’t even red, and aimed for every bump and pothole in the road. The technician in the back with me kept trying to ask questions about the pregnancy as he took my vitals and hooked me up to the oxygen machine, but the pain shooting through my body was rapidly becoming unbearable.
From my hours of reading online about the entire birthing process, I knew that my water breaking was only the beginning of active labor, and because it was my first pregnancy, it would most likely be a while until the twins were born. I don’t think my babies received that message, because it felt as if they were trying to escape my body through any means necessary; I honestly thought my stomach was going to explode at any moment.
After what seemed like hours in that damn sterile box of a vehicle, I felt us come to a stop, and then the back doors opened, allowing the bright California sun to flood the space. Hurriedly, they got me out of the ambulance and wheeled me into the hospital through the emergency room, passing me off to a nurse waiting with a wheelchair. It was then that I realized I didn’t have my purse with me; I had left it at the signing.
“I need someone to call my fiancé,” I whined as we entered the elevator. “I don’t have my purse or my phone.”
“No worries, Ms. MacGregor, your sister has your personal belongings and is waiting for you in the room,” the older female said calmly. “I believe she’s already contacted him.”
MY SISTER?!? Another contraction rocketed through my body, causing me to double over in agony before I had a chance to ask who my sister was. The elevator doors opened shortly after, and we continued the journey to the birthing suites I had toured only a few weeks before. As we entered the room, the first person I saw was none other than Tara Sivec, who was actually sitting in the hospital bed munching on a pack of Skittles.
“Hey ya, sis,” she screeched, jumping up from the bed. In addition to the blue streak highlighting her brown hair, she was wearing a My Little Pony tank top that showed off the multiple tattoos on her arms, electric blue leggings, and four-inch stilettos. “It took you forever to get here. I was afraid you had the baby in the ambulance or something.”
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“Tell me about it,” I mumbled gruffly. I was still overwhelmed with everything happening, and it was as if my brain was shut down from processing information, using all of its energy to overcome the God-awful pain ripping me apart.
If I wasn’t already completely humiliated, the nurse asked “my sister” to help me change into the hospital gown while she got the bed ready. Flashing me her chipper little smile, Tara skipped over, proceeded to strip me, and then draped the flimsy fabric they called a gown across my front. When the nurse was finished with the bed, the two of them helped me into it, getting me situated and hooked up to all the machines.
“By the way, my name’s Nancy,” the friendly nurse finally introduced herself—not that I had time to wonder what her name was prior. “I’ve been assigned to you for the next nine hours, so let’s see if we can get that baby to make its debut before I get off. Do you know what you’re having?”
“One of each,” I replied, trying my best to relax and catch my breath between contractions.
“Twins?!” they both exclaimed at the same time.
Tara quickly recovered as Nurse Nancy shot her a strange look. “Oh yes, we’re so excited about the twins. Scarlett and I have always been so close; people used to joke we were like twins, not just…ya know…sisters,” she explained, biting her lip to hide a giggle.
Nancy shrugged her shoulders and returned her focus to the machines. “Okay, Miss Scarlett, your doctor has been notified and will be here in a little while, but I’m going to check you now to see where you’re at. Do you want your sister to stay in the room or leave for this?”
“I don’t care; she can stay,” I answered. I mean, shit, she’d already stripped me.
Nodding, she takes her place at the foot of the bed and warns me that it may be a bit uncomfortable. Funny, ‘uncomfortable’ would not have been the word I used to describe what she did to me—excruciating torture was more like it. My hips flew off the bed as I screamed out at her touch, and thankfully, she hastily withdrew her hand.