Bonita was in full form tonight. Even Jordan winced over the last comment.
Her siblings trickled from the living room into the hall with wary steps, all but Parker who plowed forward. “Mother, I think perhaps it’s time for us to call it a night—”
Bonita passed her glass to her son. “Fine, here. Take it. This one’s tepid anyway.”
She stumbled toward the stairs.
Brooke heaved a sigh of relief she heard echoed by everyone else.
Then Bonita turned, her eyes surprisingly lucid—and venomous. “It’s not that I blame you, Brooke. You simply followed the pattern set by your father. Your siblings already proved that. Brittany has always run wild. And Stephen didn’t even know he had a child until she was three.”
Stephen parted through the press of siblings and joined Parker. “Mother, you’re going too far tonight.” He advanced toward his brother’s side, both men grasping one of Bonita’s arms to escort her with a practiced synchronicity that stung Brooke clean through. “Parker and I will help you up the stairs, andLissette can settle you into bed.”
Bonita slapped his arm away and took a step toward Brooke. “Watch yourself, young lady, or the genes will win out.”
Brooke tried to force words free to stop the poison spewing from her mother’s mouth, but it was all she could do to stay steady on her feet. It was mortifying enough to have Jordan view her family’s awful secret, much less live it. She wouldn’t disgrace herself by calling for a chair and footstool right now.
Brooke inhaled slowly, exhaled through her lips. She’d read in those pregnancy books about relaxation techniques. She found a focal point—the custom-made jeweled star topping the Christmas tree. She stared and breathed, and slowly her mother’s diatribe faded to a dull blob of sounds.
Distantly she heard Jordan ’s voice, low, steady, with a steely edge of anger.
Brooke wanted to tell her mother she would be wise to heed that steel. But the focal point wasn’t staying still anymore. The darn thing was rising, and the room was growing dark.
In a brief moment of clarity, Brooke realized she was passing out just as she heard Jordan shout and felt the solid comfort of his arms catching her before she hit the floor.
So this was what fear felt like.
Jordan Jefferies had never experienced it before now, but sitting in the hospital waiting area, not knowing what was wrong with Brooke and their child, scared the hell out of him. Brooke had regained consciousness quickly enough in the car, but stayed groggy during the interminable drive to the E.R. to meet up with her obstetrician.
At least the Garrison crowd had gone stone silent since they’d all arrived at the hospital. Smart move.
Her siblings and their significant others sat along the sofas. Bonita occupied a chair by a coffeepot. The alcohol would have to work its way out of her system.
For now, they had a wide-awake drunk on their hands, who at least had enough sense to shut her foul mouth.
He restrained his anger for the upset she’d caused Brooke. One look at her sent his blood simmering. How dare she talk to Brooke the way she had?
Brooke was a strong, confident force in the work world. He’d seen that in action when the Garrisons had rolled out their Sands Condominium Development project.
She’d turned it into the most successful South Beach property that year, selling every last unit for record-breaking prices. He found it hard to reconcile the strength of her obvious business acumen with the softer side she gave her family.
The buzz of a pager yanked his attention back to the present. All three Garrison men reached to check their devices.
Parker winced. “Mine. Sorry. From my receptionist. Business will just have to wait.”
Parker Garrison actually putting off business? A shocker, but one Jordan was too preoccupied to wonder at right now.
The double doors swished open and the doctor emerged, a woman around fifty who, thank God, had sharp eyes he would trust in a boardroom. They’d only briefly exchanged greetings before Brooke had been swept away into an E.R. examining room.
The doctor nodded to Parker Garrison’s pregnant wife, Anna, before turning to the whole group. “Brooke is stable. The baby appears to be fine.”
Appears? He stepped closer to the obstetrician, wanting, needing more details, damn it. “I’m Jordan Jefferies. We didn’t have a chance to speak when Brooke came in, but I’m her fiancé and the baby’s father.”
The woman nodded. “You’re still not technically a relative, but Brooke has given me the go-ahead to speak with you. She knew you would be worried, that her whole family would be concerned.”
Worried? Understatement of the year. It was all he could do not to blast through those double doors to be with her.
Brittany drew up alongside him, her brothers standing behind her in a wall of support, for once united against something beside him. “And what’s the diagnosis?”
The physician stuffed her hands into her lab coat. “Brooke’s blood pressure is elevated, enough so that I’m ordering an overnight stay in the hospital.”
His mind raced with options. None of them good. “Are you saying she has preeclampsia?”
Brittany reached out a hand to both him and Emilio at the same moment. Jordan wasn’t sure if she was steadying herself or offering comfort, but he damn well couldn’t bring himself to pull away.
His mind raced down daunting paths, thanks to the pregnancy and delivery books he’d read over the past week. Women who developed preeclampsia could have seizures or die. Babies could be deprived of air and nutrients to the placenta and be born with low birth weight and other complications.
The doctor relaxed her official stance and gave Jordan a sympathetic look. “Dad, stop thinking ahead and imagining those worst-case scenarios. Her problem hasn’t progressed to preeclampsia as of now. We’ve caught this early, which is a hopeful sign. But this is definitely a warning that her body is under stress.”
Stress had caused this? Of course. He’d seen firsthand the toll taken on her from family confrontation. No wonder the evening had sent her blood pressure skyrocketing.
Jordan ’s jaw clamped tight. This wasn’t the time or place to confront Bonita Garrison, but he planned to put himself between Brooke and her family in the future. If Brooke wouldn’t protect herself from them, he damn well would. “What do I need to do for her?”
“For now, I want Brooke on bed rest for a couple of weeks, low-key living and a special diet.” She gave his arm another pat. “Hang in there, Dad, you can come back to her room and see her in about five minutes. She’s been asking for you.”