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“Go meet those babies.” I slapped him on the back, and Zeb gave him a fast, hard hug. The two of us then made our way to a waiting area where my Aunt Lucy was already sitting, knitting in hand, house-flipping TV show on, and multiple phones lined up to distribute baby news updates.
“The nurse said it would likely be an hour and a half or two until we can see Paige and the babies. But hopefully, we’ll hear from Gabe sooner.” Aunt Lucy knit even faster than she spoke. “Bet you two need food after your long ordeal.”
“Nah—” Zeb protested, only to get a hot-pink scarf-in-progress flapped at him.
“You’re not going to make the babies appear any faster pacing here.” She gestured at the sign directing visitors to the hospital cafeteria. “Go. Take Atlas. Get some food and bring me back a coffee and one of those blueberry pie bars.”
“Yes, ma’am.” We dutifully fetched food I was sure none of us would taste before hurrying back. Zeb carried the tray of coffee while I toted a white bag full of pie and snacks, an unspoken division of labor that spoke to how well we worked together.
“Any news?” Zeb asked Aunt Lucy as she furiously ripped back several rows of stitches.
Mouth tight, she shook her head. “We should have heard something by now.”
I glanced at the nearby nursing station, where personnel in various colored scrubs bustled around. “Should I go ask—”
“No.” Aunt Lucy waved a knitting needle. “Gabe would text if there was news. No need to bug the staff.”
After all the adrenaline of our crazy drive to the hospital, sitting there silently waiting was the worst. I wanted to be able to do something. My gaze caught Zeb’s, all my emotions reflected in his eyes: exhaustion, exhilaration, anticipation, and a healthy dose of fear. I wished like hell I could take his hand, offer some strength and connection, but that, too, I couldn’t do.
The hospital speakers blared with various codes being called, each one making the three of us jump. Any emergency could be Paige and the babies. Not knowing made my hands clench, feet bounce, and every brain cell jangle. Zeb wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance.
Buzz. Buzz.
Aunt Lucy, Zeb, and I all lunged for the phone she’d set in front of her. Gabe’s name lit up right as she grabbed the phone.
“They’re here.” She held up the message so we could see. “They had a last-minute wait for the OR and then a bit of a scare with some blood loss for Paige. But they’re here and healthy. We should be able to see all of them in about two hours. Paige is in recovery now with Gabe and both babies.”
“That’s wonderful.” Like Aunt Lucy, Zeb looked on the verge of tears.
“Two hours is enough time for us to worry about where to spend the night.” I was still desperate for something, anything to do. “No way are any of us making it back to Kringle’s Crossing in this weather.”
“I’ll likely end up here most of the night, helping Paige and Gabe.” Aunt Lucy kept staring down at her phone as if willing more updates to arrive. “But I suppose we should snag nearby rooms if any are available.”
“I’ll find something.” I was so damn relieved to have something productive to do that I failed to consider the implications of sorting out room arrangements. Crap. The last thing I wanted was to be separated from Zeb for the night, but the alternative was equally unappealing. “So one for you and—”
“One for you and Zeb.” Aunt Lucy gave both of us a look more pointed than her knitting needles. “Gabe may be oblivious, but I’ve known you both too long not to notice what’s been happening the past few weeks.”
I was half tempted to ask her to enlighten me because I was living this thing with Zeb, and I had no clue how to label what we had together. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing that someone knew. Any sort of future was a total long shot, but a more open present might be nice. Might mean that Zeb stopped putting a finger over my lips when I tried to talk about pesky feelings and things like visits.
“Are you going to tell Gabe?” Voice dropping to a horrified whisper, Zeb went pastier than Gabe had earlier, complete with sweaty temples. And there went my thinking that being honest about our fling could be a good thing. If the thought of being found out made Zeb physically ill, well, that was answer enough for me. “If Gabe finds out…”
“Are you fourteen, Zebediah Seasons?” Aunt Lucy rolled her eyes at Zeb, tone sharpening. “No, I’m not going to tell Gabe. You’re both grown adults. You can do that yourselves.”
“We can’t.” I didn’t wait for Zeb to reply this time. I wasn’t going to risk Zeb’s discomfort just for the chance to not hide.
