Which made him wonder, as he finally let himself out and walked back across the front yard to his house, what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
And why.
* * *
Hours later, Tyler was having a very bizarre dream involving his being naked in a car wash in the middle of a Blink-182 concert when he realized a) his phone was ringing and b) he was drowning in Boomer slobber. Because Boomer had heard the phone before Tyler did. His heart pounding, he shoved the dog out of his face and fumbled for the phone, dropping it twice before actually getting it to his ear.
“Did I wake you?” Laurel’s slightly panicked voice said in his ear.
“No, no—” Tyler did the stretch-your-eyelids-apart-as-far-as-they’ll-go thing. “I’m good—”
“So my back was a little achy tonight, right? Like it was before? So I didn’t think anything of it? So I went to bed, and everything felt fine...and now I’m standing in Lake Erie. And contrary to what everybody said, my contractions would seem to be coming really, really fast. Also, my crotch feels like it’s being blowtorched. So, yeah.”
“Wait—you’re in labor?”
“Good guess, cowboy.” Then her voice changed, to something small and frightened. “How soon can you be here?”
“Three minutes.”
“Make it two,” she said, and hung up the phone.
Chapter Nine
Moving on pure adrenaline, Tyler shoved the very confused dog out back, pocketed his car keys and booked it to Laurel’s. Wearing a nightgown, zipper-front hoodie and the same flip-flops she’d had on earlier, she was already on her porch, bag in hand and clutching a towel. And trembling worse than Boomer in a thunderstorm.
“How far apart—?”
“Five minutes. I c-called my doctor’s service. And the hospital. They know we’re c-coming. H-here,” she said, her keys rattling as she held them out, “we’ll take my c-car. In case I get the seat wet.”
He decided against reminding her that the truck had leather seats, they were good. Although trying to get her up into it might’ve been a problem—
She hissed in a breath and terror bit down, hard. The hell you say, Tyler thought, smacking it into the next county as he wrapped his arm around Laurel’s waist to shepherd her down the steps. He got her settled on her towel in the front seat and zipped around to the driver’s side, taking a second to familiarize himself with the dash before backing out into the street, the chirping of one hardy, late-season cricket piercing the thick, predawn silence.
Laurel went very still, staring straight ahead. Tyler shot her what he hoped was a reassuring glance. “How do you—?”
Feel, he was going to ask, but she held up one hand, sharply shaking her head as she coiled into herself, her breathing harsh but steady. Cruising through their neighborhood, Tyler glanced over again, struggling not to flinch at her contorted features. Then she blew out a long breath and seemed to relax. Except for her face, still pinched beneath closed eyes.
Stay cool, stay cool... “Uh...you want some music? To distract you or something?”
Her head jerked again. No.
They pulled out on the highway, virtually deserted this time of night. Thank God. “No traffic, like I figured,” he said softly. “So ten minutes, tops. You hear that, Jonny? You gotta hang on a little bit longer, okay? Can you do that for your mom?”
That got a soft laugh. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He quickly squeezed her arm. “I mean that.”
She opened her eyes long enough to give him a brief smile. “I know you do.” Her breath hitched. Then she moaned, sending fear streaking through Tyler’s veins. “Holy hell it hurts...”
“Grab my hand,” he said, again reaching across the console.
“No...can’t...you’re...driving...”
“Got the road to myself... We’re okay, honey...”
“Dammit, keep both hands on the wheel!”
He half expected her head to start spinning. Then, again, she released a slow breath. Only this time, when she stopped, he could hear her softly crying. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Gran wanted to be there so badly, she...” Laurel knuckled away a tear. “For the last two weeks, that’s all she talked about...she was so excited. And now...”
“And now you’ve got me. At least you didn’t have to call a taxi, right? So look on the bright side—”
“Dammit, I hate being scared. Hate it, hate it, hate it.”
“Hey. If I was about to push a baby out of my body, I’d be scared, too. Not to mention surprised as hell.”
That got another laugh. And a little hiccup. “It’s not as if I haven’t had classes and seen films up the wazoo. I know what’s happening. But this is like...” Sucking in another breath, she curled forward, panting.
“Almost there,” Tyler said quietly, released a breath of his own when he spotted the brightly lit hospital jutting up alongside the highway. Beside him, Laurel nodded, then wiped at her eyes again, and anger surged through him. That it shouldn’t have been like this, that it wasn’t right...
And maybe, for her sake if nothing else, he should stop dwelling on what wasn’t right and focus on what was. Like, for one thing, that he wouldn’t be delivering this kid himself.
“The maternity wing entrance is—”
“Got it.” He pulled up in front, ran around to help her out. “Can you make it inside, or do I need to get somebody?” She stopped, leaning hard on the fender. “Never mind, I’ll be right back—”
Except like magic, an orderly or whatever he was appeared with a wheelchair. Tyler reached into the backseat and grabbed Laurel’s bag. “The contractions are coming really fast, we need to hurry...”
Chuckling, the gray-haired black man gently guided Laurel into the chair. “First baby, I take it?”
“Yes,” Tyler said, and the man grinned.
“Well, congratulations! Boy or girl?”
“B-boy,” Laurel said.
“A boy! A blessing, for sure.” The picture of calm, he headed toward the entrance. “You feel like pushing?”
“N-no. Not yet.”
“Then you got time,” the man said as the automatic doors whooshed open. “Some, anyway.”
Tyler scampered behind, the bag getting tangled up in the door for a second. “You sure?”
“Well, nothing’s sure in this world—” Now at the nurses’ station, the orderly kicked down the wheel lock. “But aside from all the pregnant ladies I’ve seen come through those doors over the years, I got me six kids of my own. When mama’s close to popping? She gets this look on her face—”
“Like that?” Tyler said, nodding toward Laurel as she panted through another contraction.
“Hmm. Close, but not quite. Trust me...you’ll know when you see it.” He clapped Tyler on the shoulder before sauntering off. “Good luck, Daddy...”
“Oh, I’m—”
“You already in the system, honey?” the admitting nurse, a zaftig brunette with seen-it-all dark eyes, said to Laurel.
“Yes. Laurel Kent. I called a few minutes ago?”
Computer keys clicked, like they were checking into a hotel. “Yep, there you are. You guys are in Room 107, right down the hall.” She grinned at Laurel. “Dr. Bernstein’s on her way.” Then, back at Tyler. “And do you need to go park your car?”
“Oh, right. Yes...I’ll...” He looked at Laurel, torn.
The nurse laughed. “First baby, not in transition yet... I think you’ve got time to park the car. Besides...” Peering through her glasses, she checked the computer monitor. “Looking here at your birth plan...it says here you want an epidural. You still okay with that?”
“God, yes. Is it time?”
“If you’re hurting, it’s time. So that takes a good twent
y minutes,” she said to Tyler. “And you can’t be in the room. So you may as well go get a cup of coffee, call whoever you need to call.” At Tyler’s hesitation, she chuckled. “We’ll take good care of her, I promise. Now, shoo.”
He walked back out to the car, got in behind the wheel. Considering his blood was already surging like river rapids through his veins, coffee was the last thing he wanted. However...
He plucked his phone from his overshirt pocket, tapping two fingers on the steering wheel rim until Marian finally picked up on the fourth ring.
“Tyler...? Ohmigod!” Her gasp bounced off his ear. “The baby’s coming?”
“Yep. Just dropped her off at the hospital. Can you be ready in ten minutes? I’ll come get you.”
“Ten minutes, hell. I’ll be ready in five. Pick me up out front!”
“Deal,” he said, and drove off, thinking at this rate, he was gonna have to put in an order for tights and a cape.
And maybe a mask, so nobody’d know it was him, doing all this heroic stuff.
* * *
“I’m sorry,” the labor and delivery nurse—Evonne, her nametag read—said, returning to Laurel’s room after the anesthetist left and the hellfire sensation began to subside from her nether regions. Her legs felt kind of numb, too, but ask her if she cared. “Your partner’s not out there. Maybe he decided to get something to eat. I’m sure he’ll be back soon. How’re you doing, baby?”
“Okay,” Laurel said, wishing there was an epidural for the brain, to take the edge off the disappointment that Tyler’d left. Heck, for all she knew he didn’t even want to be present for the birth. And why should he? But she supposed she’d hoped he’d hang around, at least. If for no other reason than she’d have somebody to show the baby to, after he was born....
“Hey, sweetie,” Evonne said softly, wrapping her hand around Laurel’s. The woman probably wasn’t more than ten years older than she was, but she exuded a motherliness that blanketed Laurel in kindness and warmth. “You still hurting?”
Laurel’s jaws clamped together—dammit, her child deserved better than a mother feeling sorry for herself! Blinking, she forced a smile for the nurse, then cocked her head, frowning. “I think...is that a contraction?”
Evonne checked the monitor a few feet from the bed, then smiled for Laurel. “Sure is. Nice long one, too. You’ll be ready to push pretty soon—”
Laurel looked up, hopeful, when the door swung open, both grateful and bummed that it was Dr. Bernstein, smiling broadly under a froth of steely gray hair. Laurel had interviewed at least a half dozen doctors before choosing this one, whose direct gaze, easy smile and sense of humor—not to mention decades of experience delivering babies—had put her immediately at ease.
“So little Jonny’s decided to jump the gun, huh?” she said, snapping on a rubber glove as she approached the bed.
“Apparently so. I thought I had almost three weeks, yet.”
“Yeah, well, babies aren’t real good at following timetables. Is your grandmother going to be here for the birth?”
Laurel felt her eyes sting. “That’s what we’d planned, but since I went into labor at night...”
“Aw, it’ll be okay,” the doctor said kindly, squeezing Laurel’s hand with her ungloved one. “Let’s see what’s going on, maybe she can still get here... Can you relax for me...?”
A minute later, the tiny woman peeled off the glove, tossing it in the medical waste bin on the wall as she grinned. “Eight centimeters! Do you have an efficient cervix, or what? And baby’s head’s right there, ready for launch.” The doctor sat on the edge of Laurel’s bed, palming her belly, gray eyes twinkling behind frameless glasses. “You excited?”
“Maybe the way I’d be about jumping out of a plane?”
Dr. Bernstein laughed. “Good way of putting it. So I want you to think of Evonne and me as your parachute. Because we’re not going anywhere, are we, Evonne?” she tossed over her shoulder.
“Nope,” the nurse said. “You picked a good night, baby, nobody else is in labor. Of course, that could change in an hour, but right now? We’re golden—”
“All righty...good contraction, nice and strong...” The doctor looked at her watch instead of the monitor, smiling for Laurel when she noticed her frown. “The machines have their place, but I’m still old school. I like to be more hands-on.” She smiled. “Like the difference between using a bread machine and kneading the old-fashioned way—”
“I’m here, doll baby, I’m here!” In white cotton pants and a patterned blouse Laurel remembered from her childhood, Gran hustled into the room, red lipstick smeared across her mouth. “I look like hell,” she said, patting her hair, flattened on one side, “but I’m here.”
Her eyes stinging, Laurel smiled. “You do not look like hell, you look like an angel.”
Gran grabbed Laurel’s hand, pressing it to her soft cheek. “So do you, baby. So do you.” Neither one of them would say it, but Laurel could tell from the sheen to her grandmother’s eyes that they were both thinking the same thing—that Laurel’s mother should be here, too, to greet her first grandchild. How happy she would’ve been.... “How’s she doing, Doc?”
“Fantastic,” Dr. Bernstein said. “But I imagine she’s doing a lot better now that you’re here.”
“Gran...how did you—?”
She glanced over her shoulder then huffed a sigh. “Tyler! What the hell are you doing out there? Get in here!” Then she turned to the doctor. “Is that okay?”
“She can have the Knicks in here if she wants...doesn’t bother me....”
But whatever the doctor said next, Laurel had no idea. Because all she saw was Tyler, standing in the open doorway, looking so pleased with himself it was ridiculous. “Thanks,” she said...a moment before she felt like she was about to lay an egg the size of Newark. Not that she knew what laying an egg felt like, but...
“Tyler!” Gran barked. “The woman needs somebody’s hand to squeeze, and better you than me!”
“Uh...you okay with that?” he called over to Laurel, and Gran said, “Oh, for God’s sake, she’s having a baby, what the hell does she know what she wants? Over here! Now!”
“Welcome to my life,” Laurel mumbled, making both the doctor and the nurse chuckle. But then Tyler was there, holding her hand, his gaze locked on hers, his smile almost natural, even...and she let herself believe, for those few precious moments, that he really did want to be right there, with her, witnessing Jonny’s entrance into the world.
The next half hour was a blur, of pushing and sweating and grunting, of Gran’s “Hot damn!” when Jonny slid out, of the baby being laid on her chest, his little forehead crinkled as he opened his dark blue eyes and looked at her as if to say, “So you’re the chick I’ve been hearing all these months.”
And she fell in love so hard it hurt.
“Hey, sweetie,” she whispered, laughing and crying at the same time, checking out his spidery fingers and dimpled elbows, his cute little bum and even cuter shell-like ears, before the nurse scrubbed him off and tucked a receiving blanket around him.
“Would you like to cut the cord?” the doctor asked Tyler, and Laurel’s eyes shot to his face, his expression every bit as awestruck as hers must have been.
“Ty, you don’t have to—”
“Sure,” he said with a brief smile...then afterward automatically reached for Jonny when the nurse lifted him off Laurel—how was it possible to already miss him in her arms?—so they could finish up with her.
“Hey, little dude,” he said softly, gently rocking the burritoed bundle. “I’m Tyler, your mom’s neighbor. You probably recognize my voice, huh? ’Cause your mom and I, we hang out a lot. And this lady,” he said, twisting the bundle toward Gran, “is your great-grandmother. She’s going to spoil you rotten—”
“Count on
it,” Gran said, and Tyler grinned at her.
“And those two ladies over there are the doctor who delivered you and the nurse who helped, but they’re a little busy right now. You’ve already met your mom, of course....”
Seeing Tyler so tender and goofy with the baby had already turned Laurel into mush, of course. But now, when he looked over, and she saw how shiny his eyes were, how shaky his smile, she very nearly sobbed out loud. Especially when, blinking rapidly, he veered away, still keeping up the monologue.
“And wait until you see your room,” he said as Gran wrapped her fragile hand around Laurel’s and held on tight, “and all the clothes and toys and stuff people gave you. You seriously struck gold, dude....”
As he chattered, images came into focus out of the blur...his uncomplaining grasp when she crushed his hand as she pushed, his calm, nonstop encouragement...his gasp of amazement when Jonny appeared, his laugh at the baby’s first loud, indignant squawk—
Gran leaned over and whispered, “Seems to me Jonny’s not the only one who struck gold, sweetheart,” and Laurel thought, Fool’s gold, maybe.
Because getting caught up in the moment, no matter how sweet, didn’t make it real, did it? And as the adrenaline spike began to fade, pragmatism waved in her face and said, Yo—remember me?
Sure, Tyler was a sweetheart. No arguments there. But he wasn’t her sweetheart. And Jonny wasn’t his child. And for all his well-meant assurances about his being there for them, how long would that last, really? Because sooner or later some little cutie or other would catch his eye, even if not his heart, and in all likelihood New Girlfriend wouldn’t be keen on Tyler’s being best buddies with the chick next door. Nor would Laurel blame her. And that was logic talking, not paranoia.
So. Time to gird these loins that had just pushed out an eight-pound baby and get herself back on track. It’d been her decision to do this on her own, and now was not the time to muddy the waters with silly fantasies.
More Than She Expected Page 14
