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I nod. "My water broke and my back hurts. Really bad."
Cam releases me and Nathan strides forward, pulling me against him, his hand going to my lower back to massage beneath Elise’s sweater. "I told you it was a bad idea to come to the game."
"This is an excellent time for an I-told-you-so," Luna says, rolling her eyes as she texts on her phone. "Just call your driver to pick you two up. We’ll meet you at the hospital."
"I want to wait for Michael and Crew," I say.
Nathan looks like he’s about to argue, but then he just nods shortly.
Michael suddenly appears beside me. "Cookie. You okay?" He looks a little nervous, but sounds calm.
"Yes. Where’s Crew?"
"He’s probably changing. He can meet us at the hospital."
"No. I want to wait," I say stubbornly. "We need to go together."
Then I see him. My sweet, loyal, amazing other husband, rushing down the hallway, still in his uniform. He has sneakers on his feet and he’s taken off his helmet and gloves, but otherwise he’s still in full gear, jogging toward us.
Relief courses through me.
"This is it?" he asks with a confident grin. "It’s go time? Fuck yeah."
I smile at my husbands. "Let’s go have a baby."
CHAPTER 24
Nathan
I’m annoying Danielle. I know I am. I can feel it. I hear it in my own voice how overbearing and anxious I sound. Hell, I’m annoying myself.
Yet I can’t seem to stop.
I’m both excited and scared to death.
Seeing Danielle hooked up to all the monitors has really driven home for me what I haven’t given much thought to before today—something could go wrong.
I haven’t let myself think about that.
Because Danielle’s pregnant. There’s no avoiding all of this. So I’ve just pushed all of the ‘bad things happen in hospitals all the fucking time’ to the back of my mind.
Until now.
I don’t remember a lot about the night of the car accident that killed my parents. I was unconscious for a lot of it. But I do remember waking up in a hospital in pain. I remember the white walls, bright lights, people in scrubs, and beeping monitors.
I suppressed so much of it, but I know that’s part of what’s feeding my anxiety now.
That and the trips to the ER and the admissions for my grandfather when his dementia was progressing but before he was placed in assisted living.
And the visits to my grandmother before her death.
And now my wife, the person I love more than anything on earth, is in one of those fucking beds, hooked up to monitors, and everyone’s acting like all of this is no big deal because they see it every day.
"Take it down a notch," Michael says to me under his breath for about the fourth time. But this time he adds, "You’re not helping Dani."
I just barked at a nurse who told us Danielle can’t have an epidural yet because she’s not dilated enough.
"I just hate hospitals."
