“Is that all?” Trent asked.
“Uhm . . . yeah.”
From Trent’s end he heard Monica talking. “You’re kidding.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Hold up,” Trent said before the sound from the other end became muffled.
“She what?”
“What is it?” Glen asked again.
All Glen caught was the word broken.
“That’s crazy.”
“Trent?” Glen attempted to catch his brother’s attention. “What’s broken?”
“Mary . . . hold on.”
Mary was broken? She didn’t sound busted when he spoke with her.
He repeated his brother’s name a few times before Trent responded.
“According to Mary, Dakota fell and broke a leg.”
“I thought she was in labor.”
“That, too.”
Glen didn’t know a lot about having babies, but he didn’t think a broken anything would aid in the delivery.
“I’ll call you back.” Trent moved on in a hurry.
“If you need me for anything.”
“Okay . . . yeah.” The line went dead.
Glen was leaning over his desk, sliding his fingers over his cell phone. So Mary did need Monica’s number. But she’d memorized his.
That was a juicy piece of information that had him smiling.
Now how was he going to wiggle his ass all the way to California without being obvious?
As it turned out . . . he didn’t need to wiggle at all.
His phone rang.
“Forget something?”
Trent didn’t bother with hello. “I need you to fly Monica to California. I’d do it myself but I have that meeting tomorrow with the transplant coordinator and the Red Cross.”
“Anything I can do to help.”
A few minutes later Glen pushed away from his desk in search of one of his top brokers. He needed to find out what planes were available and round up a copilot.
There was something to be said for being the CFO of Fairchild Charters.
Chapter Three
There was no reason to hurry. As it turned out, eight hours after the rush of phone calls and breaking the speed limit, Dakota was holding on to Junior a little longer.
Walt stuck his head out into the lobby on occasion and informed Mary of the progress. “She’s at seven now.”
It had taken her two hours to go from six centimeters to seven.
“How is she?”
Walt ran a hand through his hair. “Better. The epidural . . .” He paused. “Thank God for the epidural.”
Mary grinned.
“Does she need anything?”
He shook his head. “I have it covered.”
Mary knew that was coming. It didn’t hurt to ask. “What about you? Do you need anything?”
Walt glanced over his shoulder. “I’d kill for chocolate.”
“I doubt it has to come to that.” She pushed herself off the waiting room sofa and tucked the book she’d been reading into her purse. “Any particular kind?”
“Any . . . all.”
“Sounds like Dakota’s sugar cravings have been passed on to you.”
Walt grinned. “Thanks, Mary.”
It felt good to get off the labor and delivery floor. Mary already knew that the vending machines closest to the emergency room had the best selection for after-hours pickings. But since the gift shop and the cafeteria were still open, she went ahead and started her search there.
One look at the line out the cafeteria door and she turned to find the overpriced gift store. The store window held the usual suspects. Pink and blue teddy bears, get well balloons, and several sprays of flowers and live plants. Inside, an elderly woman in a blue volunteer uniform greeted her with a smile. She considered a gender specific stuffed toy but decided to wait until Junior was born. Unlike everyone else in the free world, Dakota wanted to be surprised when the baby was born, so Mary had no idea what color to pick. Next to the tiny teddy bears was a gangly legged stuffed monkey holding crutches.
Oh, what were the chances of that?
Mary reached out a hand just as someone behind her did the same.
“Excuse me,” she said without looking up.
“I touched it first.”
That voice.
She closed her eyes, rested her hand on the monkey, and turned. “What are you doing here?”
Tilting her neck to look at his face was an effort. It wasn’t that Mary was terribly short, but Glen was a full head taller than she was. And those eyes. Piercing, brown with just a hint of gold. Strong jaw in need of a shave.
Her heart fluttered and parts of her she’d rather not mention started to melt. One side of his mouth lifted in a half smile as he dipped just enough for her to notice the pilot’s hat sitting on top of his full head of dark brown hair.
The man needed a warning label.
“I had to give a friend a ride.”
Only a pilot would call a cross-country flight a ride.
“A ride,” she repeated for good measure.
He shrugged. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”
She hated the fact that her cheeks warmed immediately.
I’m not going to smile. I’m not going to smile.
“Always the player.”
His eyes swept her face. “Because I speak the obvious?”
Her psychology hat popped onto her head as quick as Mary Poppins could snap open her umbrella. “Because you say things like that to disarm your opponent and put yourself in a dominant position.”
Glen blinked several times, his eyes never changing focus. “I-I do what?”
“Oh, forget it.” She attempted to grasp the monkey from his hand, but he kept hold. “Glen, please.”
“I like when a woman begs.”
She let loose the monkey. “You’re impossible.”
He snatched it into his hands. “Maybe, but I get what I want.”
Mary started to leave the gift shop before remembering why she was there.
Doing her best to ignore Glen as he stepped up to the register to purchase the lame stuffed toy, Mary randomly grabbed a half a dozen candy bars and waited for her turn.
The seventy-plus-year-old woman behind the counter offered a full smile as she rang up Glen’s purchase. “Are you a pilot?”
Mary had a strong urge to roll her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s always so nice to see those clean white uniforms. So few young men pay attention to their whites.”
“It’s hard to attract the attention of beautiful women wearing dingy yellow,” he told her.
She blushed at Glen’s words as she handed him his change. “I’m sure you have no trouble there.”
He had the nerve to glance over his shoulder at Mary.
Instead of pretending she wasn’t listening, Mary met his eyes.
“You’d be surprised,” Glen told the clerk.
He took the bagged-up monkey and took two steps back and waited.
Mary dumped the candy on the counter while Glen stared.
“What?” she asked him.
“Well, that explains why you’re so uptight.”
She narrowed her eyes and looked down.
“Excuse me?”
“Women need chocolate on occasion.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “It’s not . . .”
“It’s okay, Mary. Everything makes sense.”
“It isn’t . . . it’s for Walt.”
Glen looked beyond her at the volunteer behind the register and winked. “I’m sure it is.”
“It is.” The fact that he was insinuating she was on her cycle had her wanting to toss the candy at him. The last thing she wanted to discuss was something as personal as her period.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
The man made her want to scream.
She snatched dollar bills from her purse, tossed them on the counter, then took Walt�
��s bag of chocolate before storming out of the gift shop without taking her change.
As she expected, Glen followed behind.
She hit the button to the elevator twice. “You were going to give that poor woman in the gift shop a heart attack.”
“Is that right.”
A woman and a toddler moved to stand beside them.
Once the elevator arrived and six people filed out, they pushed in and stood in silence until the mom and son left on the third floor.
“Do you flirt with everyone who wears a bra?”
Glen glanced at the ceiling. “Was she wearing a bra?”
Mary felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips and fought it back. “Seriously, Glen. You must know how out of line it is to flirt with a woman her age.”
“Seriously, Mary.” He used her words against her. “Why are you so worried about my reputation?”
“I’m not worried about your reputation.” Am I worried about his reputation?
The doors opened on the sixth floor and she stepped out.
They rounded past the glass partition to the room holding all the infants born that day. Inside were four cherub faces, one wrapped in blue, the other three in pink.
Glen’s step faltered. “Are any of these . . .”
Mary kept walking. “No, she hasn’t delivered yet.”
Glen rubbernecked at the nursery as he walked beside her.
For a moment, the smirk he wore on his face waned.
The next corner brought them to the open waiting room.
Monica jumped up when she saw them.
Mary greeted her with a hug. “You didn’t have to rush.”
“If I broke my leg on the way to the hospital to deliver a baby, someone better rush for me.”
Mary loved friends like Monica.
“Did you tell the nurses you’re here?”
Monica nodded.
Mary sat, setting her purse and the bag of candy on the floor beside her.
Monica immediately picked up Mary’s stuff and set it in the chair. “Hospital floors,” she said as if Mary understood her point without question.
“It’s going to be a while. Walt said Dakota was only at seven centimeters,” Mary told her.
“Could take hours then.”
“Seven centimeters?” Glen asked.
Both women turned his way.
“The cervix has to dilate to ten before she can push.”
Glen stopped smiling. “Ten centimeters?” He rounded the fingers on his right hand with his left. “That has to hurt.”
“That’s why they call it labor,” Monica said with a laugh.
Mary noticed Glen swallowing as he separated his hands and rested them on the arms of the chair.
“Hard to picture, isn’t it?” she asked him.
“Thinking about it makes me glad I’m a man.”
“I bet.”
Once again, Walt popped his head from the locked delivery wing. “Monica!”
The two embraced as old friends did.
“How is she doing?” Monica wasted no time in asking.
“Good. Baby is fine. No decels. Looks good for a normal delivery.”
Glen leaned close and whispered in Mary’s ear. “What’s a decel?”
Mary shrugged. “Must be doctor-nurse talk.”
“How is Dakota’s blood pressure?”
“Within her normal limits.” Walt placed a hand on Monica’s arm. “We’re watching it closely.”
Dakota had had early pregnancy blood pressure problems that caused some worry in her first trimester. Mary knew that there was always a possibility of her having more issues during delivery. While the risk sat in the back of her head, Mary hadn’t really thought much about it until Monica brought it up.
Walt glanced over and noticed Glen.
Glen stood and they did the man handshake thing. “How does it feel?” he asked.
Walt shook his head. “I’ve delivered dozens of babies, but it’s a hell of a lot harder watching your wife laboring with your own.”
Monica patted him on the back. “You’ll be fine.”
“I should get back,” he told them.
It was Mary’s turn to make her way to his side. “Here.” She thrust the brown paper bag full of candy in his hands.
He glanced inside, grinned, and kissed her cheek. “You’re a godsend.”
She smiled, glanced at Glen with a smirk, then returned her attention to Walt. “If you need more, just ask.”
He waved the bag in the air and disappeared behind the door.
Chapter Four
Walt’s parents arrived just after nine, and Dakota’s parents weren’t going to leave the East Coast until the morning.
The only other person Mary had been instructed to call once Junior was born was Dakota’s agent. Only Desi didn’t want a late night wake-up call unless something went wrong. “No one calls at two a.m. with good news. Call me in the morning,” she’d told Mary.
A few other families had filtered into the waiting room and out again once their new member of the family had been born.
Monica had curled up in one of the chairs and fallen fast asleep.
Mary made small talk with Walt’s parents for a couple of hours, but the day started to wear on her. She leaned the back of her head on the wall and closed her eyes.
Glen sat beside her quietly thumbing through a magazine. He had to be exhausted. His internal clock was three hours ahead of hers, and she was shot.
Instead of asking, she allowed her mind to drift.
He smelled good. Like he’d just splashed aftershave over his skin. And not the perfumey sweet smelling stuff, but the musky, sexy smelling stuff.
She pictured his cocky grin and striking eyes and smiled as she lost her fight with sleep.
“Mary.” His voice was a soft whisper in her dreams. Even though her back hurt from the stiff bed she must be lying on, his breath on her ear made it all right as he whispered her name. “Mary?”
She snuggled closer, not wanting to break from the dream she knew she must be having. “I’m sleeping,” she heard herself mutter.
She heard his quiet laughter. “But you need to wake up, sweetheart.”
She shook her head.
“Mary?”
Other voices mixed with Glen’s and had her opening her eyes.
It all came back.
Dakota.
Maternity waiting room.
Babies.
Someone was pushed up against her cheek.
No, scratch that, she was all but collapsed on someone’s shoulder.
Crisp white shirt, stripes on the sleeves.
Glen.
“Are you awake now?”
“Oh, God.”
She felt moisture out of the corner of her mouth. Mortified, she glanced down and noticed a wet spot on his shirt.
“Well?”
Her horror at finding herself leaning on Glen quickly faded when she noticed Walt standing in the doorway, his eyes bright and shiny, his face illuminated despite the late hour.
“We have a son.”
Mary felt the tired snap away with his words.
Questions ran through the room. How was Dakota? When could they see her and the baby? How was the delivery?
Mary just stood beside them lost in thought.
A nephew . . . well, as close to a nephew as she’d ever have.
Walt led them back to the suite where he’d spent his entire day.
Lying in a bed, her long dark hair pulled back, her swollen cheeks flushed from what had to be a grueling experience, Dakota smiled as they all filed inside the room.
In her arms was a quiet little bundle wrapped in a tiny blanket with a blue little cap on his head.
Mary felt her eyes swell with unshed tears. It took a lot for Mary to cry. In fact, she never cried.
There were oohs, and plenty of aahs. And though Walt’s father was a cardiologist, he asked about Dakota’s splinted leg poking out from under the
sheets.
“Well, that just adds to the stories you can tell over cocktails later in life,” Dr. Eddy said as he pointed to her leg.
The older Dr. Eddy leaned over and kissed Dakota’s cheek before smiling down at his grandson.
“Have you picked out a name?” Monica asked.
“We have. And no, it’s not Walter the Fourth.”
Mary had already heard that Junior and Walter were off the potential list. There were three generations of doctors with Walter Eddy’s name, and forcing the newest Eddy to carry the burden of being a doctor, or carry the burden of breaking the trend, wasn’t something Dakota and Walt wanted to do.
“Well, don’t keep us waiting,” JoAnne implored.
“Leo Michael Eddy.”
Mary caught Dakota’s gaze and smiled. “A strong, heroic name.”
Dakota winked and the memory of so many brainstorming sessions over names surfaced. Not for naming the baby, but for naming the heroes in Dakota’s books. At one point they’d brought up the name Leo, but Dakota hadn’t used it until now.
“We don’t have one Leo in the family.” JoAnne sounded unconvinced.
“Precisely,” Walt said to his mother.
One of the nurses stepped into the room, bringing another chair. “I’ll be taking baby Leo for his first bath in about half an hour,” she told them. “I know you’ve been waiting all day, but I’m going to have to boot you all to the door when I do.”
“We’re all shot anyway,” Monica told her.
“Not as shot as me.” They all chuckled at Dakota’s comment.
Walt lifted Leo from Dakota’s arms and walked to his mother.
While JoAnne and Dakota had had a rocky start, the two managed to bond during the holidays.
JoAnne pushed back in the chair and held out her arms. The second Leo was in them, JoAnne grew misty-eyed. “Aren’t you just the most beautiful boy.”
Mary took that moment to move beside Dakota.
“How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted.”
The gaggle of people centered around the baby, giving them a chance for a few quietly spoken words.
“How’s the leg?”
Dakota narrowed her gaze. “Freakin’ broken. How the hell am I going to manage a baby with a broken leg?” she whispered.
Mary looked around the room. “With lots of hands. Your mother will be here tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure that will be of any help.”
Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) Page 3