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She shook her head, a smile dancing on her lips. “You guys and your one-upmanship.” Pinching her finger and thumb together, she made a zipping motion across her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me, stud. Now get dressed.”
He used the bathroom in record time, dragged on a sweater and jeans, and stuffed his feet into socks, and all the while the same chant reverberated around his brain. They were having a baby.
Tonight.
In a few hours, they’d meet their son or daughter. The last several months they’d lived through a cycle of worry, joy, fear, excitement, and back to worry. But they’d made it. It hadn’t been easy, but here they were.
His head spun, and he propped a hand against the doorframe and waited for the room to right itself. One more hurdle to get through. Maybe, just maybe, fate was on their side. They’d rolled the dice—and won.
“Have you called your mom and dad?”
“Yes. They’re going to meet us at the hospital. I called yours, too.”
“Christ.” He ran a hand over his face. “You should have woken me.”
“And suffered an additional few hours of you freaking out? I’m good, thanks.” She grinned then hissed and doubled over. She panted, gripping his shoulder. “Whoa, that was a strong one. I think we should go.”
Supporting Lori to the car, he dropped a text to Calum that contained five words. Paternity leave starts today, Godfather. He chuckled to himself, imagining Calum’s reaction when he read the message in the morning. He’d fall over his feet racing to the hospital. Over the last few months, Calum and Lori had grown as close as siblings, and when she’d asked him and Laurella to be godparents to their child, Zane could have sworn Calum was on the edge of tears. Oh, he’d tried to hide them, but they’d been there.
Secretly, Zane hoped that Calum and Laurella would venture into the baby-making business soon, but for right now, Laurella seemed as laser-focused on her career as ever, and Calum always brushed any tentative queries off with a “There’s plenty of time for diapers and shit,” and then make a joke about Zane’s sex life being over the minute Lori popped out the kid.
“Zane.” Lori gasped as Zane opened the passenger door. “I think we should hurry.” She cried out, gripping on to his arm. “Oh, they’re coming fast. Too fast. We need to go. Now.”
Horror rolled through him. He wasn’t equipped to deliver this baby. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Cross your legs.”
She made a sound that was a mixture of a laugh and a growl. “Just drive the car, Zane,” she gritted between clenched teeth.
He buckled her seat belt and raced around the hood. Diving behind the wheel, he floored the gas, and the rear of the car fishtailed.
“One piece, please.” Lori hissed through her teeth and doubled over. “Shit, this hurts.”
“Hold on, baby. I got you.”
Zane weaved in and out of the traffic, half hoping he’d get pulled over by the cops and they’d give him an escort. Saving grace was the late hour—why did monumental things always happen to him and Lori in the middle of the night?—meaning traffic was sparse.
“Zane.”
Something in Lori’s voice made him take his eyes off the road and glance at her. She was white as a sheet. Her hands were between her legs, her dress pushed up to mid-thigh.
“What is it?”
“I can feel the head.”
Every ounce of saliva vanished from his mouth. He made repeated attempts to swallow, all futile.
“Five minutes, Lori. We’ll be there in five minutes. Breathe through it.”
She dipped her chin, gripped his thigh, and sucked in little puffs of air. “Ow, ow. Shit, Zane, we’re not going to make it.”
“We are. Jesus, Lori, we have to.”
Her nails dug into his thigh. “Pull the car over.”
He drove faster.
“Zane, pull the fucking car over!”
“Three minutes. We’re three minutes out.”
