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“Oh, my Godddd!” I hear Mom scream before I end the call.
“Run ahead and get the pilot to start the engine,” I order a guard who’s standing at his post.
“Remind me why the freaking helicopter isn’t right outside our house,” Abigail mutters as she clenches her jaw.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, knowing not to argue with her right now. If she says the sky is pink, then the sky is fucking pink.
Finally, we make it to the helicopter, and I help Abigail to climb inside. I place a set of headphones over her head before I grab my own.
Two of my best guards also get into the helicopter, then the pilot asks, “Ready for take-off, Mr. Vetrov?”
“Yes,” I give the order. Grabbing Abigail’s hand, I give it a squeeze. “How are you holding up?”
She shoots me a glare. “How do you think I’m doing?” Her face contorts with pain, then she groans, “Jesus, Nikolai.”
“Breathe,moya lyubov'.” I check the time on my wristwatch to keep track of how far apart the contractions are.
“Don’t fucking tell me to breathe,” she snaps before she starts breathing like she’s been taught during our prenatal classes.
When the contractions pass, she slumps her head against my shoulder. I press a kiss to her hair, praising her, “You’re incredible, Abigail. I’m so fucking thankful for you.”
“I don’t feel incredible,” she complains.
The helicopter touches down on the hospital’s roof, where the doctor and nursing staff are waiting.
“I want all the painkillers,” my wife demands before I help her out of the aircraft.
When I have her sitting in a wheelchair, I say, “Whatever you want, baby.”
A nurse wheels Abigail into an elevator, and I quickly dart inside with our guards and the doctor right behind us.
“Do you know how far apart the contractions are?” Dr. Koskinen asks.
“Ten minutes. She’s only had two.”
We’re taken to a private room where everything is ready for our son’s birth.
“Stand guard by the door,” I order my two men.
“Yes, sir.”
Lifting Abigail from the wheelchair, I place her on the bed before pouring a glass of water for her.
“Here you go, baby,” I murmur, and while she takes a sip, I reach for the facecloth that’s soaking in icy water.
Wringing the cloth out, I pat over her forehead, which has her letting out a satisfied moan. “So good.”
Suddenly she hands me the bottle, then starts to breathe faster.
I notice the nurse timing the contraction while the doctor takes a seat at the foot of the bed. “Let’s have a look and see how far you’re dilated.”
My top lip curls as the nurse pushes Abigail’s dress back and helps her out of her underwear.
Every time this man is between my wife’s legs, I have to remind myself not to kill him.
When Dr. Koskinen is done checking, there’s a pleased smile on his face. “It’s almost time. We’re going to do a couple of practice pushes.”
Abigail nods, and my heart begins to beat faster.
