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“Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to rile you up.”
“I’m not riled up, I’m in get shit done mode. There’s a difference.”
He sets me down in the passenger seat and buckles my safety belt before leaning down to give me a soft, respectful kiss. “I love you and I don’t mean to be salty.”
I cup the side of his face with one hand. “I love you too.”
Quicker than my eye can follow he slides into the driver’s seat. The next thing I know he’s deftly swerving, avoiding other cars, and speeding through yellow lights.
“Wow, if you ever want to give up law, you would make a kick ass race car driver.” Another contraction hits and I gasp as it rolls over me.
“You’re in labor. How is it that you’re still capable of talking?”
“I don’t think you understand how labor works. This could go on for hours.” Fuck, I hope it doesn’t, I hope I was going to be one of those moms who have contractions for an hour and out pops a baby.
“Just hang in there, sweetness. We’re almost at the hospital.”
We come skidding to a stop in front of the maternity entrance. Standing outside is Marge, looking ten kinds of excited. She steps forward to help me out of the car. “How are you holding up, honey?”
“Fine,” I say breathlessly as another contraction hits.
“She’s not fucking fine. She’s in pain and won’t stop making light of it.”
Marge’s head jerks up, “Do you want to sit this one out, Marcus.”
Stunned, Smoke stops in his tracks. “No. Of course not.”
“Then pull yourself together. Serena needs you to be positive, not panicking. Yes, it sounds frightening, but it’s something millions of women do. Trust that Serena knows what’s best, and trust in the doctors.”
Smoke’s stunned expression clears. “I’ll knock it off.”
When we enter the maternity ward, Smoke steps up to the desk. “My wife is having contractions.”
The man on the other side of the desk is wearing scrubs and has a stethoscope hanging around his neck. “A lot of women think they’re in labor, but it’s just Braxton Hicks contractions. I’ll call you when it’s your turn to be seen.”
Smoke’s hand shoots out so fast I don’t have time to protest. He grabs the man by the front of his scrubs and almost hauls him over the counter. “I said my wife is in labor. Get her into a fucking room. Her name is Serena Drake, we called ahead.”
The man is fighting to get away, but Smoke has a pretty tight hold on him. “Sir, if you will just let me go, you don’t understand—”
A woman in scrubs walks up frowning, “Look, I understand you’re worried, but if you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to call security. You need to let go of our phlebotomist. He doesn’t even work in this department.”
Smoke releases him and growls, “Amscray,” before turning his attention back to the nurse. At least I think she’s a nurse, as everyone is wearing scrubs it’s difficult to tell what their role is.
***
Smoke
Serena has another contraction and this time she cries out in pain. Her arms come down around her stomach as panic lights up her face. I can’t stand this, but no one seems to be doing anything. Why aren’t they all rushing to get her into a room? It’s a fucking emergency!
The nurse’s stern expression morphs into a concerned one and she finally moves into action. She rounds the desk and gets a wheelchair for Serena. Stooping down, she begins taking her vitals. “How far apart are your contractions?”
“About seven minutes, but it hurts a lot, like something ripped inside me.” Serena gasps.
“She needs a doctor, right goddamn now, I snap.”
Even my mom adds her opinion. “A lot can go wrong with a first pregnancy. My son is right. His wife needs to be seen straight away.”
“I’m sorry,” Serena says as the contraction eases off. “This is our first child and my husband’s a little worried.”
