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Charlotte cringed and groaned.
“Breathe, babe. Hee, hee, hee, hoo, ha, ha.” I simulated the breathing from our birthing class and she cracked a smile.
“I’m not trying to be funny.”
“I know,” she said. “You’re just so damn cute.”
“Liam’s in the waiting room. He called your mom and she’s on her way. My mom is, too.”
It was a two and a half hour trip for my mom, and I hoped she’d make it before the baby came. But Charlotte’s mom was coming from New York, so I doubted she would.
We rode the elevator up to the OB floor and the nurse brought us into a room. She looked at me and then at the door.
“I’ll help her get changed into a gown,” she said. “Won’t take but a minute.”
I paced the hallway up and down twice before the door to the room opened again and I rushed back in. Charlotte was in a bed now, dressed in a big, pink gown. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a bun and she was smiling with excitement. I’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
“Can I get you something?” I asked, wanting to be useful. “Food? A drink? A pillow?”
“She can’t have anything but ice chips,” the nurse said.
Charlotte cringed and moaned with pain. I went to her side and took her hand.
“Squeeze,” I said. “As hard as you can.”
“Keep breathing,” the nurse said. “Dr. Chung is on her way.”
Charlotte gripped my hand and panted while I stood helplessly next to her. I hadn’t considered how hard it would be to see her in pain.
“See the line going down?” The nurse pointed to a machine that was making a graph. “That means the contraction is going down. You can watch that to help her through them.”
“Okay.”
Dr. Chung was all smiles when she arrived. She examined Charlotte and said she was dilated to three, whatever that meant. Then she left again and we started the cycle of breathing through contractions again. After more than an hour of it, Charlotte started resting her eyes between contractions.
“They’re coming closer together,” she said softly. “I hardly have any time to rest.”
“That means you’re progressing,” the nurse said.
I kissed the back of Charlotte’s hand, then the inside of her wrist and the inside of her palm. The taste of peanut M&M’s on her hand was so familiarly Charlotte that it made my heart ache with tenderness for her. God, I loved this woman. She was my everything.
“Marry me, Char,” I whispered. “Please.”
“What?” Her lips parted with surprise. “When?”
“The first moment you’ll have me. I’ll go find a hospital chaplain if I can.”
Her eyes widened with panic. “Don’t leave me, Bennett. I can’t . . . ooooh, shit.”
I looked over at the paper printout on the machine and saw her contraction was hitting a new peak. She cried out and buried her face against my chest as she breathed and moaned through the pain.
“Okay, maybe not now,” I said when she collapsed back against the bed. “But soon, baby. Will you marry me even if I’m just a guy who works at a lumberyard?”
“What are you talking about?” she asked in a tired voice. “You’re a hockey player. Are you trying to distract me from the pain with nonsense?”
“No. I’m just thinking out loud.”
“I love you for your heart,” she said softly. “Not your job.”
