Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(78)

“You can have my time, and you can have my attention,” he said, words slow and deliberate. “Sweetheart, you can have whatever the f*ck you want, I promise. Whatever you need. No more holding back, no more fear. And if you still feel you have to get on that plane tonight, then we’re doing it together.”

I sucked in a deep breath, what with my body urgently needing it and all. White dots receded and I saw him clearly once again, standing before me, offering everything. I swayed slightly, the squirming sensation inside stronger this time, more definite. Vaughan and the security guy each grabbed an arm, keeping me upright.

Ben bolted across the stage toward me, grabbing me carefully around the waist and shifting me onto the stage, beneath the heat of the bright lights. I could hear the crowd screaming, but they sounded distant, otherworldly.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ben, eyes panicked.

“She’s moving,” I said, one hand on his shoulder and the other on my belly. “She’s moving, Ben. I felt her move. Our baby.”

He buried his face in my hair, keeping me close, taking my weight.

“I didn’t know what it was before, but it’s her. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yeah, that’s wild.”

“Your voice was so loud, she must have heard it and recognized it.” I smiled at him in amazement.

He swept me off my feet, holding me high and striding toward the center of the stage. “That’s great, Liz. It really is. But, sweetheart, I need to know if you heard me too.”

Slowly, I nodded, putting my palm to his face, against the bristle of his beard. “I heard you.”

“What do you say?”

I took a moment, thinking it through. Big, life-changing decisions deserve at least a second of contemplation. “We don’t have to get on that plane.”

“Okay,” he exhaled hard, smiling.

“And I love you too.”

His smile stretched his beard wide. “I know I’m going to f*ck up now and then, but just stick with me, okay? I don’t want to do shit without you. I don’t want to be places where you’re not. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“We’ll work it out.”

“Yeah. We will.” He covered my lips with his, kissing me stupid.

“Everybody,” Ben said into the microphone, his voice once more filling the stadium. “This is my girl, Liz. Say hi. We’re going to be having a baby.”

And that was that.





EPILOGUE

“Get! It! Out!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” said Ben, holding my sweaty, straining hand. “Just breathe.”

“Don’t you sweetheart me. It was your penis that did this.”

Dr. Peer, the obstetrician, looked at me over the rim of her face mask thingy, eyes singularly unimpressed with the drama. Asshole. She wasn’t the one lying on a bed with her legs up in stirrups, vagina exposed for the whole f*cking world to see, was she? No. No, she wasn’t. I was. And this whole labor thing had been going on for twenty-one f*cking hours now, so really something needed to be done sooner rather than later. At fifteen hours I’d given in and asked for an epidural. Best thing ever. But now my high was fading. My happy was long gone.

“You can do this, I know you can,” said the amazing maternity nurse, Amy.

“Have you done it?” I snarled.

“Well … no.”

I let my eyes do the talking.

The woman took a step back.

“Easy,” said Anne, bravely holding on to my other hand.

“Liz, your baby’s head seems to be lodged in the birth canal,” said Dr. Peer. “She isn’t showing any signs of distress yet. So we can continue on as we’re doing, and hopefully push her out the old-fashioned way, or you could let us help things along with a suction extraction.”

“I read about those.” My eyes stayed on the blip-blip-blip of the baby heart monitor screen beside me.

“Is it dangerous?” asked Ben.

“With any procedure there’s a risk, but it’s very minimal. Generally the child’s head will just display a small bump, something like a blood blister, on the crown of her head for a couple of days. Nothing more.”

“What do you want to do, sweetheart? Keep going a little longer?” He picked up a wet cloth and wiped my sweat-soaked face with it.

“I’m so tired,” I cried. “Why is your head so big? If your head wasn’t so big this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. At around fourteen hours, Ben had stopped trying to defend himself. Probably for the best. I wasn’t to be reasoned with.

“I feel very bad for me.” I cried some more.

“Another contraction coming soon,” Anne announced, watching the monitor.

“Miss Rollins, why don’t we set up for the extraction, just in case?” asked the ever-calm Dr. Peer.

“Okay.” Some weeping.

“Oh my f*cking god,” said the voice of about the last person on earth I had any interest in dealing with just then. “What is the holdup in here? Do you have any idea how boring it is, waiting around for this kid to appear?”

“Martha, you cannot be in here,” said Ben through gritted teeth, giving his sister a foul look.