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“No,” Harper managed.
“Do you want us to call somebody? Lisa’s going to see if there’s a doctor in the audience.”
“James. He’s a doctor,” Harper gasped. “I want James.” And then the pain overtook her again.
* * *
James clapped as the designers walked on one by one, scanning each to see if they were Harper. Her designs were beautiful, and the crowd had loved the mother-and-daughter matching outfits. He’d heard a few of them talking about putting in an order.
They’d have to wait awhile. Harper was determined to slow down for her last few weeks of pregnancy. Her high blood pressure had scared them both, but it had also brought an ease to them, too. She’d let him take care of her the best way he knew how – by checking on her each day, and making sure she was eating properly. It was strange how he felt closer to her now that they’d taken having a relationship out of the equation. It was as though his head was finally catching up with his heart and they’d both reached the same conclusion.
He wanted her in whatever form she came. Friend, lover, mother of his child. If she wanted to wait, he’d wait for as long as it took. He hadn’t been in a hurry in the past three years, and he wasn’t in a hurry now.
In the meantime, he’d look after her and their daughter the only way he could.
The crowd began to murmur and he looked up to see a woman with an electronic tablet clutched close to her chest. She ran onto the stage and grabbed the microphone from the stand. “Um, can you all hear me?” she asked, tapping it with her finger. “I’m looking for a Doctor James. Are you here?”
His skin turned to ice. He stood, his breath catching in his throat. “I’m here,” he called out.
“Thank goodness.” The woman sighed. “Can you come backstage, please. We need your help.
He was acutely aware of everybody looking at him as he walked down the aisle between the seats. There were a set of steps at the end and he climbed up them, following the woman with the tablet to the back of the catwalk.
“She keeps asking us not to fuss, but something’s not right. She’s doubled over in pain.”
“Harper’s in pain?”
“Yes.” The woman nodded. “We’ve put her on the sofa over here.”
Harper was half-laying, holding on to the hand of a woman in a silver ball gown. James recognized the dress from Harper’s apartment. He dropped to his haunches, his gaze meeting Harper’s.
“You doing okay?” he asked, softly stroking her hair.
She
shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “It hurts,” she whispered. “And I’m scared there’s something wrong. Somebody’s already called an ambulance.”
He took her free hand in hers. “Try not to panic. It’s going to be fine.”
“Don’t let go of me,” she told him. “Not for a minute.”
“I won’t.” He smiled at her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m so scared.”
“You don’t need to be. You’ve got this. You’re thirty-six weeks pregnant, the baby’s doing great. If you end up giving birth early, she’s going to be just fine.”
Harper blinked. “I can’t give birth. Not yet. I’m not ready.” She squeezed his hand so tight her knuckles blanched. “They’ll stop it, won’t they? Put me on bed rest.” She bit her lip. “I’ll do whatever they say, I promise.”
“Just try to breathe,” he told her. “That’s all you need to do until the ambulance gets here.”
“I’m trying,” she told him. “But I keep hyperventilating. What if the baby can’t breathe when she comes out? What if I—oh!” she groaned, her eyes squeezing shut as she pulled her legs up against her bump. “Aaah, oh god it hurts.” She pulled at his hand, bringing him closer.
“Breathe in,” he whispered. “One, two, three, four, that’s it. Now exhale.” He looked at the model still wearing her gown. “How long since the last contraction?”
“About six minutes.”
“Okay.” He nodded.
