The Plan (Off-Limits Romance, #4)(72)

I try to take it all in stride: her groans and winces, her pained sounds. When she’s between contractions, she insists she’s okay, but I still sweat when she seems hurt.

“It’s getting later,” I say now, as she splashes cool bath water on her forehead. “Don’t you think we should start driving?”

“I don’t think so.” She blinks a few times, like she’s dizzy, and I notice her cheeks are pinker. “I was thinking maybe we should stay here. You could cut the cord?”

I feel the blood drain from my face as Marley starts to cackle.

“You’re a wicked one, woman.”

She giggles. “Yes, in seriousness. It’s probably near time.”

I help her out, and help her dress between contractions. She wears a black, stretchy kind of dress with tiny, white polka dots, and smiles more than a woman who’s in labor should.

“I made it,” she keeps saying. As I grab our bags and load the car. “I made it all the way to here, and pretty soon, we’ll have our baby bean!”

Even as she grits her teeth and I back out of the driveway in the dark, she seems to be smiling.

“You okay?” I can’t help petting her—her arm, her hand—as I drive, maybe just a little too fast, toward Montgomery.

My heart is beating fast and hard. What if somehow she doesn’t last the drive? The trip is more than an hour. Could I really cut the cord? I’ve read about it on the internet, but what if something went wrong?

“Stop worrying,” she grits. The contraction passes, and she looks at me and laughs. “You’re sweating more than I am, daddy-o.”

“Just the humidity.” It’s almost August, after all. We could be in New York City right now, with Marley giving birth at one of the best hospitals in the nation, but she insisted we stay here in Fate another year. “Because the clinic needs me, and Kat wants to be an aunt. But after that—a year—I kind of want to move. So we can be closer to Gen.”

So that’s the plan.

We pass under a street light on the wooden bridge on our way north, and Marley’s ring glints.

“Soon now,” she pants—and I know she doesn’t mean the baby’s birth. Marley wants us to get married soon after our son or daughter gets here.

“The four of us,” she keeps saying. “The whole family.”

Marley plugs her iPhone in, and we listen to her meditation music. Fuck, I’m nervous for her. So far, she seems okay, though. My mind wanders a little as she does her rhythmic breathing like a fucking pro. How proud I am that this woman is mine. What an amazing stepmother she’s been to Gen.

I never thought I’d be so fucking happy. Before Marley, having a little family unit was okay, but it didn’t make me feel complete. Now—with Marley, Gen, and little bean—I feel happier than I realized was possible.

The more we drive, the paler Marley looks. The more she pants, the more she seems to slump in her seat.

“You okay? We’re almost there…”

She nods, and I clench the wheel, pressing the pedal harder. I look at my phone GPS.

“Three more miles, baby…”

“Gabe—I don’t know if I can wait!”

“What?”

She sucks a huge breath in and holds it; then she blows it out. “I don’t know if little bean can wait!”

“Oh fuck, you have to!”

“Be calm, Gabe! You have to be calm!”

“It’s okay,” I hear myself say. “Everything’s okay. I’m going faster…”

“Don’t wreck,” she cries.

“Almost there. We’re almost there!” I can see the fucking hospital from here, its bright blue letters winking through the trees. “You keep her or him where they should stay, okay? No bean in the car.”

She manages to laugh, and then a moan rips from her throat. I turn into the parking lot on two wheels, right as Marley screams—and as I come to a rough stop under the ER awning, she screams again.

“Fuck.” I jump out of the car and shout for help, and somehow, there are people—two women in scrubs—and Marley’s being helped out of the car, onto a stretcher. I’m running behind it, down an empty corridor, when suddenly I hear a cry, and everybody stops.

And then there’s just a baby… One of the women holds up a mewling, fat, pink baby.

“Oh God,” Marley sobs. The baby wails, and I hear myself say, “It’s a boy.”

Oh my God. Our little bean is a boy, and holy fuck, he’s really wailing now. Someone thrusts him toward Marley.

“C’mon, daddy, walk beside her,” one of the nurses says. “Just like that…yeah, help her hold him. Holley, you do your thing and I’ll pull the bed from down here…”

Fucking hell, we have a baby.

“Black hair,” I hear Mar say weakly.

Then we’re in the ER hub, and everyone is everywhere.

“Mama had her baby in the hall,” one of the EMTs says, as we’re steered into a smaller room.

“Wish it was that easy for everybody,” says the one who’s helping us hold baby.

“Well, now, I’d say it’s a full moon, but I think it’s not,” says a blonde in a white coat, as she strolls in. “How’re you feeling, Mama?”