Page 12 of Ruthless Roses
I gently shut the door to our bedroom and wander down the hall to my office.
Omar’s in charge of day-to-day operations for the next few weeks. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be tracking things from afar.
I settle behind my desk and log onto my laptop to see what I’ve missed over the past few hours. One of the first emails I see is from Blue Star. The message summarizes the security measures they’ve put in place as well as account info for logging in.
If I install their app on my personal devices, I’ll have access to the security system no matter where I am.
For the next hour, I spend my time doing things like this: installing the security app, reading through emails, and even checking out the monthly profits for the club. The kind of busy work that would make most people drowsy in the middle of the night.
Yet I’m as alert as if it were daylight.
My phone chimes with a new notification from Blue Star. It’s warning me there’s been unusual activity detected and it’s coming from outside our bedroom.
Right away, my heart rate’s kicking up several notches. I’m popping to my feet and about to go sprinting down the hall.
I don’t make it halfway across the office space before the door creaks open. Delphine shuffles inside with her sleep shirt that stops barely below her backside and with an expression that’s almost dreamlike. She’s clearly woken up from the middle of a deep sleep.
“Jon…” she says softly, her hands gliding over her bump. It’s then that I notice the liquid that’s trickled down the inside of her thigh to the floor. “I… I think my water broke.”
3
salvatore
I’ve kepta cool head under many types of circumstances that would make people shit bricks. I’ve had guns pointed in my face. I’ve been tortured and interrogated to the point of near death. I’ve watched firsthand as others have suffered atrocities beyond the human imagination.
But nothing compares to Delphine going into labor. All of a sudden, I forget how to be calm and collected. Remaining composed becomes a conscious effort that takes everything I have.
To be the best support she needs in the moment.
I help Delphine dress and grab the birthing bag we’ve set aside. Our on-call security team swarm around us and escort us down to the car.
In a few short minutes, we’re loaded up inside, riding off to the Westoria Birthing Center.
My focus is on Delphine. She’s sitting beside me with her eyes squeezed shut and her hand on her belly.
Her contractions are coming every five to seven minutes. Another one hits her with such force, she winces and her face tenses up.
“Phi,” I say as gently as possible, holding her other hand. “We’re almost there. We’ll be there in few minutes. I’ve called the delivery nurse and she told me they have your room nice and prepped. They will be ready for you.”
She nods as the pain seems to pass for the moment.
I stroke her hand and say, “Don’t hesitate to tell me what you need. I’ll make it happen, alright? I love you.”
“I love you too,” she whispers, then a soft laugh of disbelief puffs out of her. “Jon… our baby… he’s coming.”
“Our boy.”
She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I kiss her brow and continue stroking her hand, providing what comfort I can ’til the next contraction hits.
Meanwhile, on the inside, I’m fighting this rare case of nerves that is leaving me restless. Whatever happens during this labor and delivery, it’s outside my control—I can’t take away Delphine’s impending pain, and I can’t change any potential medical circumstances. It’s that sense of helplessness that has me feeling uneasy.
But I remind myself, my role is her rock. I’m here to support her. Be what she needs the moment she needs it. Her biggest advocate and lifeline.
Pulling up to the brightly lit birthing center in the dark of night, I resolve myself to staying calm and focusing on my role.
Everything will be alright. Soon we’ll be holding our baby boy in our arms.
* * *