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“No, still at home.”
Another scream rips out of her and I lower the phone away from my ear until it’s passed.
“Is Dr. Dishy with you?”
“No, he was called on an emergency surgery a few hours ago and he went because I said I’d be fine on my own and that the baby wasn’t due for another week and everyone knows first babies come late.”
I chuckle. “Guess the little bugger wanted to prove his mommy wrong right off the bat. Is Nora there?”
“No, at her grandparents.”
“So you’re alone. You need us to pick you up or—?”
“No, I called a car. See you at the hospital.”
“All right, honey, hold tight.”
I hang up, turn on the bedside lamp, and stare at the man still peacefully sleeping next to me. Cannon balls would not wake Gabriel; it’s one of his superpowers.
I gently shake him. “Babe.”
He rolls over and mumbles something, still sleeping. His hair is all tousled and his face perfect despite the million pillow creases on his skin.
I shake him again. “Gabriel, I need you to wake up.”
His eyes blink open and focus on me, a smile spreading on his lips.
My heart flutters in response.
That smile.
The one he gives me every morning, or even in the middle of the night lately—whenever I wake him. The one where, the moment he comes back to consciousness, he realizes I’m by his side and looks at me like he’s the luckiest man in the world.
I love that look. I can’t believe I almost missed out on waking up to it every day.
“Hey, how you doing, baby?” He pushes up on an elbow. “What’s up? You need me to give you a back rub?”
“No, we have to go to the hospital.”
That wakes him all right. In two seconds flat, he’s already jumped out of bed and is hopping around the room pulling up his sweatpants. “How are you feeling, is something wrong?”
“Relax, it’s not me. Marissa’s waters broke.”
The dressing frenzy stops and Gabriel looks around our bedroom, sort of lost. “What time is it?”
“Twenty past three,” I inform him.
“Are you sure we should head to the hospital given… uh, I mean, in the middle of the night?”
I can tell he’s being attentive with his wording, carefully avoiding hate phrases like “in your condition.”
“Marissa is having her baby and her fiancé just got called into surgery, I’m not leaving my best friend to give birth alone.”
“All right, all right.” Gabriel raises his hands in surrender. “We’ll go.”
I tug a cotton stretch dress out of the closet and do my best to squeeze into it. “Thank you.”
Gabriel grabs a T-shirt from the dresser and pulls it over his head. “Let’s go then. But we’re taking the Aston Martin.” He kisses me on the forehead. “And I’m driving.”
