Who cares? ICare! I panic, futzing with the stopwatch on my dumb phone, fingers not cooperating. “Five, five minutes!”
“We’re fine, Callum. Breathe.” She gives me that slow, deep-breath thing they taught us in birthing class while I have a silent meltdown in the hallway.
She’s calm.
I’m panicking like someone lit my jersey collection on fire.
She squeezes my hand on the way out the door, jaw tight, eyes shining with something wild and fierce and beautiful. “Let’s go meet our son,” she says.
Fuck Yeah.
We’re doing this.
Right.
Got it.
Since I doubt I have the ability to responsibly drive us to the hospital, we take an Uber—plus, it’s easier than walking to the parking garage, finding my car, weaving through the structure, easing into traffic, keeping us alive while Annabelle has contractions ...
Nope.
Uber it is.
The second we get into the car, the driver—a man named Diego with a top hat air freshener and jazz music softly crooning from the speakers—glances in the rearview and says, “Heading to the hospital?”
Annabelle smiles through a contraction. “Yup.”
“You folks having a baby?”
“Yup.” I nod emphatically, sweating through my hoodie. “As in, she’s currently having contractions. You should probably go fast.”
He signals like a gentleman andpolitelymerges into traffic. “Cool, cool. Not my first labor ride.” He smiles at me through the mirror, unfazed.
“You’ve done this before?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Had one baby born in the back seat—had to charge them extra because of the mess. Hospital’s fifteen solid minutes, you lucked out. No traffic.”
Annabelle grips my thigh with claws of steel.
“Diego,” I say, voice an octave higher. “Would you mind skipping a few traffic laws today. Not all of them. Just the boring ones.”
Like stop signs and yellow lights.
Annabelle lets out a long breath. “Callum, I’m fine. That contraction was only thirty seconds.”
Diego nods slowly. “Do you need water? Paper towel?”
Paper towel? Why would we need—oh.
Ohhhh. Duh.
“No water,” I say, a ball of nerves. “No towel. Just drive. Please, please, for the love of all things holy, drive!”
He smiles patiently. “Is this your first?”
Annabelle laughs, hand on her belly. “What gave it away?”
Diego chuckles. “It’s always the dads that panic. Moms usually know what’s up.”
