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It’s not what I thought my life would look like.
It’s better.
EPILOGUE
NICK
As soon as I register the knock on the door, I’m standing and striding over to it. Alex still has his hand raised when I turn the knob and pull it open.
“Is it time?”
“Yep. They’re on their way.”
Alex’s answer is what I’m expecting—hoping for. But my body reacts like it’s a surprise, my heart pounding and my mind racing.
“Okay. I need—I need…” I glance around my office, blankly registering stacks of papers, trying to think throughwhatI need.
“Keys would help with driving,” Alex suggests.
Ever since he returned three months ago, he’s thoroughly enjoyed watching me approach parenthood for the second time with a strong mixture of excitement and unease. I’m thrilled. I’m also terrified.
Shooting him a glare to make my feelings about the sly smirk on his face clear, I return to my desk. I power off my computer and grab my leather jacket off the chair. Once it’s shrugged on, I pat my pocket, making sure I can feel the metal shapes inside before heading into the hallway.
Alex follows. “Labor is a long process. There’s no big rush.”
“Women give birth on the side of the road because they don’t make it to the hospital in time,” I say, quickening my steps to the fastest pace possible.
I should have worked from home today.Wouldhave, if Lyla hadn’t told me I was driving her crazy with my hovering.
I’ve been overprotective her entire pregnancy, and it’s gotten worse, the closer she’s gotten to her due date. I can’t help it. The first time around, I missed everything. I never got to see Lyla pregnant with Leo or hold him as a baby. This feels like a gift I never expected to receive on top of everything else Lyla has given me.
“Statistically, that’s very unlikely,” Alex tells me, still trailing behind.
“I don’t give a fuck about statistics.” I shove open the metal door that leads straight into the parking lot.
Winter air smacks me in the face, cold wind raking through my hair and cutting through the fabric of my clothes.
I barely register the chill, hustling toward my car. And then I freeze. Whirl on Alex, who’s spotted the same thing I have and now appears more worried than amused.
My wife is in labor, and the Aurus I drove today has a flat tire. Expensive, irritable,uselesshunk of metal. Maybe this is karma for all the tires I’ve shot at.
There’s no visible mark on the rubber. I probably picked up a nail, driving through the industrial area where the warehouse is located.
The how doesn’t matter now. The only question is, what to do now?
“Did you drive?”
“No,” Alex replies. “Viktor drove after we finished with the Babanin shipment. I can call—”
I’m already striding back toward the warehouse.
“You heard what I said about no rush, right?” Alex asks, jogging after me.
I don’t answer.
“What would I know anyway, right? I’m only adoctor.”
I ignore Alex’s heavy sarcasm in favor of focusing on typing the code in at the door. The warehouse is emptier than usual. We received a big shipment last night, and so most of the men are at home, sleeping.
