The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (22)

“Okay, Rem. You can stop Tony Robbins-ing my ass. I’m ready and willing. God help us both.”

He laughs. “I was going for a more Bear Grylls type of thing, but Tony Robbins works too.”

“Sorry, Charlie. This talk was nowhere near tough enough for Bear Grylls.”

“I can be tougher.”

“No,” I say through a half laugh, half groan. “Please. Don’t.”

“Okay, okay,” Remy consoles with a grin. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Goo—ahhhhhhhhh—ood!” I try to respond while simultaneously howling in pain over a peaking contraction. “Holy chickens in a coop, this hurtsss!”

Remy rubs at my arm and my hand and my leg, seeming desperate to comfort the impossible. The truth is, babies fucking hurt. I don’t care what people want to try to tell you when they’re not in the throes of a currently epidural-less labor, but shooting a baby cannonball through a very small hole is one of the worst ideas someone has ever had on this planet. I’ll sign a notarized statement and present it to a judge.

“Do you think you can stand up?” he asks, clearly trying to get me out of this elevator so I can have this baby in a hospital like a normal woman.

I want to nod yes. I want to agree and get to my feet and magically find myself in a hospital bed with a staff of doctors and nurses around me. You know, so they can give me all the drugs that will make this not hurt so fucking much.

But what I want and what my body wants are two very different things.

“I want to stand, I do, but the pressure, Rem. The fucking pressu—” I can’t even continue to speak when another contraction takes root.

His eyes pinch together in worry. “Maria, how long have you been having contractions?”

“I don’t know. Awhil—” I start to say, but the pain is back again, tightening my body in a way that makes anything other than breathing impossible.

“Just take deep breaths,” he coaches and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I might be able to get us out of here. I was in the other elevator and pried my way out. And I can already get an ambulance on the way.”

“Ahhh! Sweet land of the living, I don’t think we have time for that, superstar,” I shout, and when the pressure becomes so intense it feels like someone just lit a match to my vagina, I turn into a crazy woman and slap his phone out of his hand.

And then, pop! The audible sound fills the elevator, and the feel of water dripping down my legs makes me very aware of my reality.

“Oh no.”

“W-what?”

“I think…my water just broke, Remy. Oh my God,” I grunt when the urge to push is undeniable. “I think the baby might be coming now. Like, right, right now. I feel like I need to push.”

“Oh…oh shit,” Remy says, glancing down to the space between my legs with a swallow.

“Oh my God, I want to push!”

“Shit.” His eyes go wide. “Are you…Ri, I’m going to have to look and see what’s going on. Are you okay if I…” He stammers a little, nerves and uneasiness about making me uncomfortable no doubt hurtling their way from his stomach to his throat, but pretty quickly, the man I’ve known nearly all my life gets it together. Steady, in control, calming—Remington Winslow has seen the options before him and decided for himself. There’s only one thing to do here, and it’s not going to do either of us any good to tiptoe around it.

“Ri, I need to check you and see if the baby’s coming, okay?”

I nod fervently. “I’m well past modesty at this point,” I admit easily through my pants. “Please help me. Help the baby.”

He nods immediately, squeezing my hand before he lets it go, swiveling to reposition on his knees. Down between my legs, he eases up the hem of my skirt and props my feet up on his shoulders. As he gently maneuvers my underwear out of the way, the demands of my body cry out again, making me howl into the echoey space so hard I throw my head back until it nearly hits the wall.

Sweat feels sticky on my face, and the cloying heat of this summer blackout isn’t helping a bit, but eventually, I find the strength to lift my head again and meet Remy’s eyes.

And that’s all it takes for me to know the truth—the baby is there. The baby is so there, he or she is practically a third passenger already.

“It’s happening, isn’t it?” I kind of want to cry. “I’m really about to have this baby in a fucking elevator, aren’t I?”

Remy nods, his eyes sympathetic and his smile comforting. “I can see a head full of beautiful brown hair.”

“Shit!” I scream, letting my head fall back again and throwing my arm over my face. I knew it was happening—I can very much feel it happening—and still, some small part of me was hoping it wasn’t real.

And then the fear rushes back, making my mind race with all the things I was supposed to do and all the things I’m not sure I’m ready for.

“Oh my God, I don’t think I can do this, Remy!” I grunt, trying to breathe through the urge to push. “I don’t know if I can be a mom to Isabella’s baby, and I still have so much to get done at work. Daniel and Brenda aren’t ready to handle the ship while I’m busy with a newborn and Claudia is completely worthless and I think I need to hold the baby in until I get all my ducks in a row. You know, just, like…a wine bottle with a cork, but only the cork needs to be human-sized and—”