Page 95 of The Irresistible Distraction

“I’m here to provide emotional and physical support during the birthing process, but I did take her blood pressure. Beyond that, I have to tell you her nausea seems extreme, her ankles are abnormally swollen, and she’s apparently been sensitive to light the past couple days.”

“We can’t find Tyler.” I already tried on the way over. “Is she saying she doesn’t want to leave?” From the other room, I can hear Maggie panting and cursing, telling us to get our asses back in there.

“She’s saying she won’t change the plan without talking to Tyler.”

“Right.”

I go over to Maggie, put a hand on her shoulder, and tell her, “I’m calling an ambulance.”

There are tears in her eyes as she shakes her head. “I want Tyler. We made a plan.”

I take her hand, noting that yes, her wrist is swollen, and wondering if I missed it on our day out, or if I could and should have been checking in more on my best friend, and then pushing those rather unhelpful thoughts aside for now. “It was ninety-nine percent your plan. All Tyler’s going to care about is that you’re safe and the baby’s safe.”

The tears are flowing down her cheeks freely now, but Maggie shakes her head.

I squeeze her hand and I feel . . . the same way I did when Jesse told me he’d been tempted, or when my parents told me they’d only had me live with the Williamses because they hadn’t wanted to worry me.

Some situations don’t have easy, happy solutions. Sometimes there’s just the decision that has to be made.

“You and Tyler can both be mad at me afterward, but either I’m taking you to the local ER or I’m calling an ambulance. If the more qualified people say I jumped the gun or panicked, you can take the cost of the ambulance out of the diner’s profits.”

She nods finally, blinking away tears. “Can you take me in your car?”

There’s almost no one in the ER because it’s Friday morning and none of the tourists are drunk enough to have injured themselves. Dr. Morgenstein, who’s been the head of the ER for at least two decades now, greets us. A moment later, he’s joined by Jesse.

“I’m here for some final training,” he explains, his smile fading as he looks at Maggie, who’s clearly in distress.

Though I’m not technically family and have no right to be there, Maggie doesn’t let me out of her sight, meaning she sees me trying, and failing, to find Tyler.

“He’s on shift for at least three more hours,” Maggie tells me.

Knowing there’s nothing he can do to help, I call Brody.

“Hey—”

“Maggie’s in labor, Tyler’s still away, and there are complications.” I explain the situation as efficiently as possible. “I know there’s nothing you can do⁠—”

“You’d lose that bet. But I’m about to lose mine.”

Before I can reply, Brody has hung up.

The next few hours are among the worst of my life.

Never again will I complain about labor pains. Though my labor was not technically easy, I had Jesse and my parents there. Even Adeline and Arthur, who weren’t in the room itself, were around to offer support for Jesse and my parents, diligently bringing coffee and necessities from their home.

Maggie’s parents, who technically live in Davis but who have barely kept in contact, were always going to miss the birth. Though Tyler’s parents are scheduled to arrive in a week, I doubt they can afford the upcharge of last-minute airline tickets.

So there is only me.

And the only comfort I’m able to offer comes in the form of ice chips and apologies (mainly, that I forgot to bring a single item that might be useful, beyond one blanket I grabbed on the way out, and that I still can’t get in touch with Tyler).

It doesn’t help that I can hear Jesse and Dr. Morgenstein (whose name tag has never revealed his first name) arguing in the other room. There are apparently tests Jesse wants to run that aren’t available here in Lake Arrowhead, but it’s a heavily regulated event, which I understand means . . . Dr. Morgenstein and Jesse will have to justify themselves in future paperwork. While Jesse believes they ought to consider this, Dr. Morgenstein is certain that it’s all much ado about nothing, that he’s delivered plenty of babies, and even though Maggie is now at three centimeters, she’s barely in active labor. Extra tests are expensive and unnecessary. Transferring would have to be deemed medically necessary, and Jesse is still learning the formal procedures—Dr. Morgenstein is the doctor on record.

Because I know Jesse, I know that he’s fighting to keep his cool when he whispers through gritted teeth, “We’re not prepared to handle this, if it starts evolving in the wrong direction.”

It’s then that Tyler arrives, an hour before his shift should have ended, and hours before it should have been physically possible. He is covered in soot and grime and he smells of smoke and ash, but of course Maggie doesn’t care.

She is hysterical as she embraces him, not letting him go even as both doctors suggest it would be for the best, that her IV will get tangled.