Page 20 of Not Mine to Rescue

Denise was restricted to light activity for her final two months, so she appreciated the new couch and the lack of dog hair everywhere. Molly adjusted to the new routine quickly. And I was in heaven, finally having more time with her.

Everyone was happy.

That should have been an omen.

I should have paid attention to the date.

In the middle of January. I worked late at the office because it was Jim’s night. I got a call and checked the ID displayed. “Lemon, what can I do for you?”

“Jim didn’t show.”

I glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. “I’m so sorry. You should have called me sooner.” I grabbed my briefcase and stuffed my work inside.

“No worries, it’s just that I’ve got a class in twenty minutes and I can’t guarantee that Wombat’s going to stick around.” She sounded apologetic.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Will he be able to stay until I get there?”

We’d barely talked during his final hearing. And he went out of his way to avoid me outside of the courtroom.

“Hang on,” her muffled tones were answered by his lower ones.

A tingle of arousal I hadn’t felt in a while shot through my pussy. Not the time. I reminded myself. I shoved the last of the folders into my briefcase and grabbed my coat from the hook while juggling the phone.

Finally, Lemon came back on. “He’ll be here. Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you going out of your way for me on this.”

She hung up the call, and I marveled at how I’d absolutely lucked out to find such an accommodating family for Molly’s care. If anyone should apologize, it should be me.

Scratch that. It should be Jim.

Halfway to the farm, my phone rang again. I patched it through the car’s speakers, expecting an update from Wombat or Lemon.

It was Jim. “We’re at the hospital.”

We’re. We are. Him and Denise. It was so tempting to yell at him for forgetting Molly. “Is everything okay?”

“She’s in labor.” Jim sounded excited. And happy.

I pulled the car into the emergency lane and turned my flashers on. My extremities were tingling, and my vision had blurred. It took an act of sheer will to squeeze out, “I— I— oh. I’m picking up Molly. Um…”

“Oh shit, I forgot. Denise’s water broke and⁠—”

The rest of his words didn’t make sense because I couldn’t breathe.

Belatedly, I put the car into park so it wouldn’t lurch forward again if I took my foot off the brake.

Then, my breathing came back too fast.

Jim was still talking. Thanking me for being understanding and that he’d let me know if it was a boy or a girl.

With that, he hung up.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t wail. The sounds inside me wouldn’t break free. My cheeks were wet. The car rocked from the gust of wind pushed along by a large truck as it zipped past.

A boy or a girl.