Page 88 of Tempting Tessa

“I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.” I’m not fine. I’m the furthest thing from fine that has ever existed. My stellina is about to push a human being out of her body, and I’m supposed to just...watch? Help? What the fuck am I supposed to do?

“Contraction starting,” she announces, her voice tight.

I fumble with my phone, starting the timer. “Okay, timing. We’re timing.”

She grips my hand hard enough to cut off circulation, her nails digging into my palm. I don’t give a fuck. She can break every bone in my hand if it helps.

“Breathe,” I tell her, trying to remember the stupid breathing exercises from the birthing class we took. “Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Like the hippie lady showed us.”

“Don’t you dare bring up that hippie lady right now,” she hisses between breaths. “She told me to visualize my cervix as a flower opening. A fucking flower.”

“Okay, no hippie lady. Got it.” I’m nodding like a bobblehead, completely useless. “Should I pack the hospital bag? Did we pack the hospital bag?”

“It’s been packed for three weeks.” She releases my hand as the contraction passes, slumping back against the headboard. “In the closet. Go get it.”

I practically trip over myself getting to the closet, yanking the door open so hard it bangs against the wall. The bag is right there, exactly where she said it would be. I grab it and haul it to the bed.

“Should I check it? Make sure we have everything?” I’m already unzipping it, pawing through the contents. “Diapers? No, that’s for after. Clothes? Blankets? What about snacks? Do we need snacks?”

“Matteo.” Her voice has that dangerous edge that usually precedes her threatening to castrate me. “Close the bag and sit down before I kill you.”

I zip the bag back up and sit on the edge of the bed, my knee bouncing uncontrollably. “How long until the next contraction?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a fucking oracle.” She’s breathing hard, her face flushed. “Stop asking me questions I can’t answer.”

“Right. Sorry. I’m sorry.” I’m apologizing for everything, for nothing, for existing. “Should I call Rocco? Get the car ready?”

“Not yet. We have time.” She reaches for my hand again, her grip surprisingly gentle this time. “Matteo, look at me.”

I force myself to meet her eyes, those beautiful brown depths that have been driving me crazy since the moment I first saw her.

“We’re going to be fine,” she says, her voice steady despite the pain I know she’s in. “Both of us. All three of us.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “I know. I just—fuck, Contessa, what if something goes wrong? What if⁠—”

“Nothing is going to go wrong.” She squeezes my hand. “Dr. Chen is the best. You made sure of it. The hospital is ten minutes away. We’ve done everything right.”

I know she’s trying to reassure me, but my brain is stuck in worst-case-scenario mode. I’ve spent my entire life planning for every contingency, controlling every variable, and now I’m facing the one thing I can’t control, can’t plan for, can’t fix with money or threats or violence.

Another contraction hits, and I start the timer again, watching the seconds tick by with my heart in my throat. This one seems longer than the last, or maybe that’s just my perception because I’m fucking losing my mind.

“Okay, that was four minutes since the last one,” I announce when it finally passes. “They’re getting closer. We should go.”

“Matteo, they need to be five minutes apart consistently for an hour before⁠—”

“I don’t give a fuck what the timeline says.” I’m already on my feet, grabbing the hospital bag. “We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

“Matteo—”

“No arguments.” I’m using my don’t-fuck-with-me voice, the one that makes grown men piss themselves. It has zero effect on her, but I’m too panicked to care. “I’m calling Rocco.”

I dial his number, pacing the bedroom while it rings. He picks up on the second ring, his voice alert despite the hour.

“Sir?”

“Rocco, get the car now. We’re going to the hospital. Contessa’s in labor.” I’m practically shouting into the phone.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be out front in two minutes.”