We spend the next hour chatting amongst ourselves and even discuss the lovely topic of where we’re living once the baby comes. Lawson continues to say, “We’re still trying to iron out all the details.” Like where we’ll raise our baby is equivalent to doing freaking laundry!
This man can drive me crazy unlike anyone else.
He’s as stubborn as they come. Which I am too, so we’re quite the pair.
No other person on Earth can infuriate me like he does…or turn me into a swooning, love-struck idiot like him either.
Lawson has to be at the airport first thing tomorrow morning, which sucks, seeing as it is Valentine’s Day. But he’s promised to make up for it by celebrating together the entire weekend after he flies back into Alabama on Saturday.
As soon as we leave the coffee shop, we head straight to my place so he can get his things together and drive back to Tuscaloosa. I have to work tomorrow, so I’m staying here, and then I’ll drive to his place Saturday morning and pick him up at the airport when his flight arrives around noon or so.
He’s flying out to Vegas to go over some ideas with another bike shop that wants to partner up with him to sell his custom designs, and not just the regular run of the mill bikes they carry.
It’ll be a huge win for Lawson if he can get this deal, so I’m crossing my fingers and toes for him.
I walk with him out to his truck, which is the same truck he got after the accident. It’s a forest green 2009 Silverado. The man has more money than I could spend in a lifetime, but he insists on driving his truck until the tires fall off, so he says. Me, on the other hand? I need to upgrade my little electric car to an SUV hybrid so I can fit both a baby stroller and groceries into my car—not one or the other. Since the weather has been crazy lately down here in Alabama, with freezing rain and even some snow, he’s been driving his truck every day.
I told him our baby needs their daddy in one piece, so the Harley is garaged until spring.
“Drive safe, and text me as soon as you get home-…and as soon as you land tomorrow.”
“Will do, darlin’.” His hands slide into my hair, cupping the sides of my face as he pulls my mouth up to his for a goodbye kiss. I fist his shirt in my hands and lean up on my tiptoes, giggling against his lips as my belly gets in the way. He accommodates the big bump between us and leans down farther. His kisses do crazy things to my body, especially now that I’m pregnant. I want him every second of every day, it feels like.
His lips sadly break away from mine. “If I don’t stop kissing you now, I’ll never get out of here,” he teases as he pinches my bottom lip between his fingers when I pout up at him.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” I ask playfully.
“Well, kind of, seeing as my ass needs to be at the airport at 3:00 AM.” His hands come to rest on my belly and, immediately, the baby kicks against his palm as he slowly moves it side-to-side across my skin.
“At least I’ll see you Saturday. What’s one day? And could we possibly sit down this weekend and seriously discuss our living situation? I’m getting nervous with the baby coming in less than a month.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh and rolls his head, stretching out his neck. Finally, his eyes come back to meet mine as I tug on his t-shirt. “Fine. We’ll sit down and weigh all of our options Sunday night, because we won’t get much talking done Saturday, and almost all of Sunday, because we’ll be too busy basking in our weekend-long sexfest—I mean, belated Valentine’s celebrating.”
Smacking his chest, I roll my eyes up at him. “You’re such a pig. A hot, sexy, and completely irresistible sex god—but still a pig!”
“I love you, too,” he says sarcastically before smacking my lips with his for one more quick peck goodbye.
I back away a few steps, giving him room to open his driver’s side door and climb inside.
Tears sting my eyes, but I do my best to blink them away. I’ll wait to cry once he’s gone.
Damn hormones.
Now I cry at the drop of a hat over everything.
I even cried over an over-the-top mushy tissue commercial the other day. It’s getting beyond ridiculous.
“I love you.” Climbing up onto the step bar, I lean into the truck and pucker up my lips, asking for just one more kiss.
He shakes his head, chuckling softly before obliging me and giving me one last kiss before turning the key and starting up the truck. Immediately, it rumbles to life, vibrating the metal door against my belly, making the baby kick against it in protest.
Climbing down, I rub the palm of my hand against the persistent kicking and blow a kiss to Lawson with the other before watching him back out of my driveway and disappear down the road.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Feeling any better?” Marissa asks as she walks into the nurses’ station, plops down into her chair, and gets to work typing in the information for her last well child check-up.
I hit send on the text I was typing to Lawson and set my phone back into my purse. He landed a few hours ago and texted me when he first got to Vegas. But a few minutes ago, I had a delivery of a dozen red roses, along with a box of my favorite chocolates with a sweet Valentine’s Day card from him. I wanted to text him and tell him thank you, since I’m too busy right now to call and tell him.
Even when he’s a thousand miles away, he finds a way to make me feel so loved on Valentine’s Day.
Standing, I rub at my lower back and wince as the pain courses through my back and stomach with every step. “No. My back is still killing me. It’s only a little after eleven. It’s going to be a really long day.”
“If you’re not feeling well, you should just go home. We have a light load today, plus Christine is on call until she takes over for you while you’re on maternity leave.”
I watch as Marissa finishes typing and then hits print, getting the paperwork ready for the mother to take home with her when she checks out after she finishes up with Dr. Zec.
I hate to leave, because I’m going on maternity leave in two weeks. I really wanted to work as much as possible before leaving. Not because I need the money since Lawson is helping me with bills now that I’ve cut back on my hours. I just love my job. Christine works Tuesday and Thursday, and I work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday now until I go on my full maternity leave. I’m going to miss coming in and seeing everyone. But I’m also excited to have a few weeks off to relax before the baby comes, and then I’ll have time to spend with the baby and Lawson before I have to dive into the wonderful world of a fulltime working mom. He plans on taking two weeks off when the baby is born to spend with us, which I’m beyond excited about.
Lately, it’s been crazy with us going back and forth between my place and his. I can’t wait to finally get settled somewhere with him and be able to sleep beside him every single night.
“I’m going to try to get through the day. I took two Tylenols; they should help. I’m going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back if anyone needs me.”
Spinning in her chair, Marissa gives me a sympathetic smile. “All right, girly. Whatever you say. But please promise if you don’t feel well still in an hour, you’ll reconsider going home.”
“I will. I promise,” I tell her, even though I’m determined to make it through the day. Women work up until they give birth every day. If those women can suck it up and work through the pain, so can I.
~~~
I shift on my feet as I adjust the scale, weighing the newborn who’s in for their first well child check-up today. “Seven pounds…nine ounces.” I jot it down on my tablet and then bring my eyes up to the mother, who scoops her screaming baby up off of the scale. The second he’s back in his mother’s arms, his cries stop and he hiccups quietly.
Her focus goes to my belly as I tell her, “You can follow me into room two.”
“So when are you due?” she asks, starting small talk as I direct her into the little room. She sits down in the chair beside the tiny desk and rocks her baby side
-to-side as he plays with the charm on her necklace.
I find my eyes lingering on the baby, wondering what our baby will look like and if it’ll be a boy or girl. I feel like it’s a girl and, of course, Lawson think’s it’s a boy.
We’ll find out soon enough.
“I just hit 35 weeks yesterday,” I say, giving her a genuine smile as I grab the baby thermometer and climb back to my feet. I wince with each step as I walk over to the baby and run the thermometer over his forehead.
“A few more weeks to go then. Is this your first baby?”
“Yup. Is he your first?” I ask as I log his temperature and get the vaccines ready. I hate this part.
“No, he’s baby number three for me. I have two girls, four and two.”
My eyes grow large as I hear how close together her children are. “Wow. You sure do have your hands full.” I laugh before getting to work going over the typical questions we ask at every first well baby check up. We go over any concerns and things she wants to discuss with Dr. Rayner.
Finally, it’s the part I dread. Shots time.
She lays the baby down on the table and gets to work unbuttoning his little pants.
I climb to my feet and head over to the table, but stop mid-step as another pain shoots up my back and my stomach grows rock-solid.
Clenching my teeth, I breathe through the pain, and as quickly as it was there, it’s gone. I straighten my back and walk over to the table.
“I know this is intrusive, but…are you all right? I’ve noticed you rubbing at your back and your face scrunching up in pain whenever you begin to move around.”
I wave my hand in the air, brushing off her concern. “I’m fine. The joys of working on your feet all day. My back is bothering me, is all.”
She gives me a knowing smile as if she understands completely. I do the baby’s shots and, to my surprise, he barely cries at all. I leave her in the room to wait for the doctor and make my way down the hallway, back towards the nurse’s station. Mid-stride, my feet falter and I double over in pain.
“Ow, ow, ow…” I mumble under my breath as a piercing pain courses through my stomach and down my back again, but this time it hurts a lot more than it did before.
I try to walk it off, but the pain continues.
Suddenly, I feel a small gush of water between my thighs that feels sort of like I just peed my pants, but I know I didn’t pee. I look down and see the wetness running down my hot pink scrubs.
Panic tears through me, making my body break out into a cold sweat, and my heart rate increases dramatically. I try to remain calm as I yell to Marissa, who’s chatting with the lab tech who stopped to collect our blood samples for the day.
“Marissa…Marissa!” I shout a little louder than I want, but not too loud that I draw much attention.
Her head whips around at the sound of her name being called and immediately her eyes double in size as she sees me holding the wooden railing along the wall, attempting to walk slowly towards her. Her eyes drop down to my pants, which look like I just urinated on myself, and realization dawns. Within seconds, she’s running down the hall to my side.
“What in the world? Woman! Either your pregnant ass pissed yourself or your water broke. I think it’s safe to say I can go with the latter here.” She wraps her arm around my waist, takes my hand with her other free hand, and helps me walk to the nurse’s station.
“I’m not even due yet. I have five more weeks, Marissa.” My voice is laced with panic as I find my body shaking and tears welling up in my eyes.
“Mrs. Hart, I need an ambulance sent here ASAP! Emelyn’s water just broke,” Marissa screams into the phone at our receptionist before falling into her chair and shuffling her feet across the carpeted floor, wheeling up in front of mine. “How far apart are your contractions?”
“Umm…I don’t know. I didn’t even know I was having contractions. I assumed they were Braxton Hicks and normal aches and pains from carrying another human being around inside of me!” Hysteria is beginning to set in and the tears are now falling fast and hot down my cheeks. I flick them away as anger and frustration consume me.
This cannot be happening right now. It’s not time. Lawson isn’t even here! We don’t even have a carseat installed in my car yet. My bags aren’t packed…
“Emelyn! Focus!” Marissa shouts at me, snapping me out of my mini panic attack.
Lord, I pray I do not faint again. God—this is so freaking embarrassing.
“I look like I peed my pants, Marissa!” I cry as I look down at the crotch of my pants.
“I know, sweetie. The ambulance will be here any minute, so we need to think quickly. Do you need me to call Lawson? Shit—he’s in fucking Vegas…” As soon as she curses, she covers her mouth and glances around the room to make sure no one heard her.
Before I can get a word out, I hear the sound of feet coming up the hallway, and both Dr. Zec and Dr. Rayner appear in the doorway with concern written all over their faces.
“We just heard. Are you okay, sweetheart?” Dr. Zec asks as she comes to my side and rubs my shoulder affectionately in an attempt to soothe me.
I blink through the tears and open my mouth to speak, but am quieted by another contraction and lean over in pain as I hold my stomach, breathing through the contraction.
So this is a contraction. Fantastic.
“She’s contracting right now, and I found her say…two minutes ago in the hallway with her water broken, coming down from a contraction, so she’s having them about two to three minutes apart.” Marissa says to Dr. Rayner.
The desk phone rings and Marissa quickly snatches it up off of the receiver, answering it. “Hello? Perfect. She’s back here in the nurse’s station.” Hanging up the phone, Marissa jumps to her feet. “All right, girly. The ambulance is here at the backdoors. The EMTs are coming in now.”
They help me to my feet as the EMTs rushing in with a gurney. The reality of what is happening sinks in as they help me onto the bed and strap me in.
“Marissa. My purse!” I shout as I spot it sitting on my desk. Grabbing it, she hurries to my side, handing it to me. “Thank you,” I say as I frantically dig my phone out.
“I’ll come by the hospital as soon as the office closes, okay?”
I give her a weak smile and nod.
With shaky fingers, I go to my call log and press Lawson’s name. He doesn’t answer, and I mentally curse the hell out of him before leaving a voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. You must be in your meeting. I—uhh…kind of went into labor here at work. The ambulance is taking me to the hospital now. So if you could get your ass onto a plane as soon as possible, that’d be awesome.” I don’t bother to say goodbye. Hanging up, I go to Delilah’s number and press call as the EMTs lift me into the back of the ambulance and slam the large metal doors closed.
They get to work taking my blood pressure and asking me a million questions, while I try to call Delilah.
Fucking A! Voicemail for her too!
Thanks a lot, Smokey fucking Mountains, for shitty-ass cell reception.
My tears begin to fall harder this time as panic runs through my veins like ice water.
I’m in labor, and I can’t reach the father or my birthing partner!
Just wonderful. I couldn’t dream up a worse situation if I tried.
“Will anyone be meeting you at the hospital?” the female EMT, who looks to be in her mid-forties, asks as she jots down all of my information.
“I can’t reach my boyfriend, or my best friend. I’m going to have to call my sister and my parents,” I say in between sobs.
“It’ll be okay, honey,” she says, patting my hand as I hit call on my mother’s number with the other.
Thankfully, she answers on the second ring and tells me she’ll meet me at the hospital to help with my paperback.
I remember Delilah mentioned the cabin having wifi and a landline…but I can’t for the life of me remember the damn phone number, and I never put it in my phone.
It’s a Hail Mary, but I pull up Facebook Messenger and type her a quick message. I can only pray she’ll take a break from her Valentine’s weekend to check her Facebook.
I’m going to ruin her romantic weekend and her telling Grayson she’s pregnant. This is turning out to be the worst day of my life, when it should be the best day, because I’ll be meeting my baby.
“Will my baby be okay?” I ask frantically as I hold my hands over my belly. There’s a monitor hooked up to it now, timing my contractions, and the baby does not like it at all. It keeps kicking at the small square device over and over.
I’ve met enough preemies in my lifetime, working at a pediatrician’s office, to know that most babies born at 35 weeks are born perfectly healthy and able to come home after a few days. But the fear and the ‘what ifs’ are still playing in the back of my mind.
Mine Would Be You Page 17
