Her Swedish Billionaire's Baby(31)

 

Chris wished he hadn’t but he understood Bjorn’s need to know.

 

“It’s not good.”

 

Inga moved to the chair beside him and sighed in sympathy folding her hands in self comfort as she watched him swallow his emotion, eyes covered by both his hands.“Mr Fredriksen?”

 

He stood up. The doctor was standing at the door with a serious look in his face.

 

“I’m Bjorn Fredriksen.”

 

The doctor smiled and Bjorn felt relief filling him.

 

“I understand you are the baby’s father? You’ll be glad to know we’ve stabilized the mother. She’ll stay in ICU for the night and we’ll see how it goes in the morning.”

 

“May I see her?”

 

“We shall arrange that as soon as she leaves ICU; so perhaps in the morning.” The doctor looked to everyone standing there looking expectantly at him. “Only one at a time.”

 

As the doctor left Inga turned to Bjorn, “See, she’s strong.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8

 

 

Samara started to notice the coolness of the air around her, faint noises but in a second they were secondary to the dull pain she felt all over her body. She tried to recall where she was and how she got there. The beeping machine encompassed with her heart beat was a tell-tale sign she was at some kind of medical facility, but why? Then she remembered, the nightmares, the pain…blackout.

 

My baby!

 

She wanted to move her hands and check on her stomach but found that she couldn’t. Opening her eyes was a problem. She tried to speak, to scream, call for help but her mouth was also paralyzed. The beeps from what she assumed was the heart monitor were increasing rapidly. She figured it was because she was terrified…

 

She was finding out that moving any part of her body hurt. So she lay there praying for answers. She wasn’t sure how much time went by before a nurse came in. She did something to her arm; there was a pinprick and she felt her heart rate beep slowing down. She also found that she could open her eyes.

 

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

 

“In pain.” She said finding to her relief that her mouth was working too.

 

“We don’t want that,” the nurse checked the drip. “I will give you something for the pain.”

 

“Will it make me sleep?”

 

“Yes. That’s how your body recovers.”

 

“Then don’t.”

 

“Do it.” Alison was by her bedside, and had woken up in time to hear her refusing the meds.

 

“Alison...”

 

“You need to rest and your body needs to recover.”

 

As she saw her lose the battle against sleep, “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

Alison must have figured she was asleep when she said, “Bjorn is here too. He’s outside pacing. He seems worried.”

 

“Tell him the baby’s still here,” Samara mumbled, then her eyes opened wide staring at her sister. “The baby is fine right?”

 

Alison drew in a breath, “Yeah. The baby is fine. Now sleep.”

 

 

 

Samara was at a Maternity Clinic.

 

Samara was alone at a Maternity Clinic.

 

She shuffled her feet against the linoleum underneath her, diamond shaped patterns in the floor, some were white, some were a dull pink color, and the remaining ones were a cross between navy and sky blue. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, soft half moon indentations lingering on her skin.

 

Alison was in town with Amy, they went to get groceries, and Samara wasn’t allowed to come with. A growl of frustration tumbled its way out of her throat, and she glanced around in apprehension. She didn’t know what to do in these places. Mom hadn’t survived long enough to teach her, and she had basically been raised to avoid getting on the CPS radar by avoiding hospitals. There was nothing remotely comfortable about her situation.

 

There was pretty-soft maternity scent in there, berries and light summer rains, pumpkins and candles. Samara fidgeted in her seat and tugged Alison’s coat closer around her body. She was always fucking cold these days.

 

She wanted Bjorn there.

 

Wanted him to answer all the damn questions and fill out the paperwork, and generally do everything Samara’s been too tired to do lately. Samara would even let Bjorn take charge, which seemed to be numbers one, two, and three on his list of favorite things to do.

 

Samara had lost weight, looked more like she did at eighteen, then she should at 25. She was still tall but her waist is tiny, with well-defined abs, thanks to her less than stellar diet, and her daily workout regimen. Her abdomen was making way for her kid now, and she was four and a half months along. She knew, well enough, that she was halfway through her pregnancy, but she was not terribly sure how she’s going to survive the other half.