be an ambulance on hand if we need one.’
‘It’s not the crew I’m talking about...it’s the babies. I’m afraid my twins are on their way... This isn’t Braxton Hicks, Patrick. I’m in labour.’
CLAUDIA’S WATER BROKE only moments later, confirming she was very much in labour and going to deliver her babies in an elevator unless a miracle happened. As she wriggled uncomfortably on the hard elevator floor with only Patrick’s now soaking wet jacket beneath her, she stared at nowhere in particular and prayed with all of her might that it was a bad dream. One from which she would wake to find herself giving birth in a pretty delivery room in a London hospital surrounded by smiling nurses...nurses just like her sister, Harriet. She always allayed Claudia’s medical concerns with sensible and thoughtful answers delivered in a calm manner, just like the way their mother had always spoken to them.
How she wished more than anything that Harriet was with her. She would know what to do. She always did...but, as Claudia looked at her surroundings from her new vantage point on the floor, she knew it was pointless to wish for her sister to be there. Or for a birthing suite. She would have neither. Harriet was in Argentina to do something selfless and wonderful and she was paying for her own irresponsible behaviour by being trapped in a Los Angeles elevator in the first stage of labour.
Giving birth to the babies of a man who didn’t give a damn.
With the help of another she didn’t know.
The next painful wave of contractions broke through her thoughts. Labour had not come on slowly or gently. And there was no point worrying about dust soiling Patrick’s jacket; the piece of clothing was now past being saved.
The jacket was of no concern to Patrick, who was kneeling beside Claudia. At that moment he would give a dozen of his finest jackets to make this woman he barely knew comfortable if only he could. But he had nothing close to a dozen of anything to make what lay ahead easier. The situation was dire. There was no way around that fact but Patrick intended to do everything to ensure Claudia remained calm and focused. All the while he fought his own battle with a past that was rushing back at him. Fine perspiration began lining his brow but he had to push through. He heard Claudia’s heavy breathing turn to panting and knew he couldn’t give in to his thoughts. Not for even a minute. He had to stay with Claudia.
For the time being at least.
‘There’s no cell reception but if I can get through on the elevator phone, who can I call? Your husband, boyfriend...your family?’
Claudia shook her head, a little embarrassed by the answer even before she delivered it. Harriet was on and off the communication grid for almost two days while she travelled and even if she could contact her it would be unfair to worry her. And she knew there was no point reaching out to the babies’ father. He wouldn’t care.
‘No, there’s no one to call.’
Patrick’s eyes met hers in silence. He was surprised and saddened to hear her answer. While she clearly had her defences up initially, Patrick had not suspected for even a moment that a woman like Claudia would be alone in the world.
Unexpectedly, he felt himself being pulled towards her. He was never pulled towards anyone. Not any more. Not for years. He had locked away the need to feel anything. To need anyone...or to be needed. But suddenly a tenuous and unforeseen bond was forming. And he suspected it was not due just to the confines of the elevator.
Claudia wriggled some more and looked down at the jacket. ‘I’m so sorry...’
‘Claudia—’ he cut in as he looked intently into her eyes, not shifting his gaze for even a moment, not allowing himself to betray, to any degree, the very real risks that he knew lay ahead ‘—you’re in labour and you think I’m worried about a jacket.’
‘But it’s ruined.’
‘The only thing I care about now is finding something clean for the babies. Do you have anything in your bag? Anything I can wrap them in?’
Claudia shook her head. While her bag was the fashionably oversized style, it held very little, other than her wallet, apartment keys, her phone, a thin, flimsy scarf, a small cosmetic purse and a bottle of water. And her ultrasound films.
Patrick couldn’t wait any longer. There would be two babies arriving and they needed to have something clean to rest upon while he tended to their mother. He was not going to put them on the floor of the elevator. Without hesitating, he began to unbutton his white linen shirt and, slipping it from his very toned and lightly tanned body, he spread it out.
Claudia knew she was staring. She was helpless to pull her gaze away. The man about to deliver her babies had stripped bare to the waist. It was overwhelming and almost too much for her to process. The whole situation was quickly morphing from a bad dream into a nightmare. She was about to give birth to the sons of a man who didn’t love her and they would be delivered by a half-naked stranger in a broken elevator. Tears began welling in her eyes as the waves of another contraction came. This one was more powerful than the last and she struggled to hide the level of pain.
Patrick reached for her hand. ‘I want you to squeeze my hand when the contractions happen.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she told him as the contraction passed and she felt uncomfortable getting any closer to the semi-naked stranger than she already was. His arms looked lean but powerful. And she could smell the light tones of his musky cologne.
‘I know you’ll be fine but if you squeeze my hand each time you have a contraction I’ll know how close together they are.’
‘I think you will be able to tell without me squeezing your hand.’
Patrick nodded. ‘Have it your way, but my hand is here if you need it.’
Still feeling wary, Claudia eyed him suspiciously, wondering who this man was, this man who was so willing to come to her aid. Only a few minutes before, they had exchanged less than friendly words. Now the man she had initially assumed to be a lawyer hiding a hangover behind dark glasses was in fact a doctor literally on bended knees helping her.
‘The contractions seem to be evenly spaced at the moment,’ he said, breaking through her thoughts.
‘But they’re awfully close and awfully painful. Does that mean the babies will be here soon?’
‘It could but it’s impossible to tell.’ Patrick hoped that it would be a prolonged labour. Prolonged enough to allow the technical team to open the elevator doors and bring in help.
‘Do you think there’s any chance they will get us out before my babies arrive?’
‘They’re doing their best.’
* * *
Ten minutes passed with no news from outside and two more contractions. Claudia caught her breath and leant back against the cold walls of the elevator. It was soothing on her now clammy skin. The air was starting to warm up, and she imagined it would be stifling in a short time if the doors were not opened soon. But they would be. She had to hold on to the belief that any minute paramedics would burst through the steel barriers and transport her to hospital.
Patrick
