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“Southbound? Where the hell is southbound?”
“Straight ahead, Gibs.”
“Oh Jesus, Cap.” Gibsie practically wept. “Not the roundabouts.”
“You’ve got this, Gibs.”
“You know I’m not good with roundabouts.”
“Veer left. Redirecting route,” the sat nav said when he took the wrong turnoff. “Redirecting route northbound.”
“Would you listen to her?” Gibsie demanded, waving a hand around animatedly. “Talking down to me like she knows everything.” Glaring at the sat nav attached to the dashboard of his car, he shouted, “What the fuck do you know about it? Huh? You’re not even from Ireland!”
“It’s a bot, Gibs, not an actual person,” Johnny tried to explain. “Don’t take it personal.”
“Oh, don’t let her fool you, Cap. She knows what she’s doing,” Gibsie argued. “Judging me from her little screen.”
“I can’t,” I cried out, unable to hold it together a second longer, as the pressure in my pelvis became too much. “Fuck. I need to open my legs and I don’t have enough room.”
“Molloy, look at me.”
“No, Joe, No. I don’t want to do this! Please god… I’ve had enough—”
“Aoife, open your eyes!”
Panic-stricken, and for what had to be the first time in my life, I did as I was told.
“I’m here.” Joey’s voice was full of confidence. “Right here with ya.” His eyes shone with clearness—with sobriety. “I’m going nowhere, okay? Never again. I won’t leave your side.” And then his steady hands were on my cheeks, forcing me to focus on his crystal-clear green eyes. “And I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
136
Reunion 2.0
JOEY
When I climbed through Molloy’s window tonight, the last thing I had expected to witness was her in full-blown labor, but that’s exactly what happened.
Battling her mother when we got to the hospital was another event I hadn’t anticipated. To be fair, I didn’t blame Trish for wanting to be with her daughter. It was a heated argument that resulted in me winning when Molloy stepped in and told the midwife that I was the one she wanted with her.
Several hours had passed since we were taken down to delivery, and while she was dilating and had reached seven centimeters according to her last internal, it seemed to be dragging on forever.
Sucking on gas and air like it was going out of fashion, my best friend balanced on a birthing ball, rocking and rolling her hips, as the worst fucking noises I’d ever heard in my life escaped her.
I wanted to save her.
I wanted to put a goddamn stop to her suffering.
But I was completely helpless.
I had never felt so fucking guilty in my life as when I watched her contorting in pain as her body tried to expel the baby I’d put in there.
Even now, as she leaned against me in her delivery suite, in the throes of another contraction, all I wanted to do was apologize.
Jesus Christ.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she declared, twisting sideways on the ball to grip my shoulders. “Joe, I need to go right now.”
“Okay,” I replied, trying to remain calm when her face turned a deep shade of red. “I’ll help you.”
