Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(79)

“Get out, bitch,” said Anne, ever so eloquently.

The woman swanned on over to my bedside, avoiding the sight of my girl bits so proudly on display, with a look of distaste on her perfect face. “Liz. Christ you’re a mess.”

Ben cracked his jaw. “Martha—”

She placed a hand on her brother’s arm, gave him a look. “Relax. I have an important role here that everyone can agree I am well placed to perform. I’m here to take the abuse. Figure by now you must be running out of energy for it. And given I could hear her screams from the waiting room…”

“Contraction coming,” warned Anne again.

“Get that uptight f*cking bitch out of my sight,” I said.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Martha yawned oh so delicately. “I thought you’d be getting to be a seriously cranky little girl by now.”

“You are the worst person to be in here.”

“Oh please,” she said, sitting down beside me and patting my shoulder. “You were handing out worse abuse to Ben and Anne, and they’re saints compared to me. Let it all out.”

“God you suck.”

“You know, I’ve been sitting out there for hours, putting up with the stinky diapers and crying from Jimmy’s little twin angel girls. And if your kid is anything like them, count me out for babysitting.” Hand on hip, she faced me down.

“As if I’d allow my child anywhere near you unchaperoned,” I snarled.

“Cute names, though. Lori and Jean. Much nicer than what you’ve got picked out. I really do pity that child during her school years.”

“Fuck I hate you!” I screamed, every inch of me straining, bearing down with my very last reserves of energy, giving it my all.

“Tell me something I don’t know!”

“You know the reason you thought I’d never sign that contract?” I raged. “Because you have the miserable condition of believing the rest of the world is as money-grubbing and selfish as you are. It’s called projection.”

“That’s more like it,” she said. “Cutting and all too true. I think you’ll make a pretty good psychiatrist after all.”

“Psychologist!”

“Whatever,” she shrugged. “You can put it in whatever fancy college terms you want, but you haven’t got anything I haven’t heard before.”

“Sam’s in love with you, you dumbass undeserving bitch,” I growled.

Her face blanked. “What?”

“If you weren’t so clueless and self-obsessed you’d have noticed it years ago.”

“Push,” said Anne, fingers tightening on my hand.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” said Ben. “You can do it.”

Dr. Peer and Amy waited between my spread legs for any development. Everyone in the f*cking room singing the same tune: push.

But it was Martha that did her best to get in my face, having apparently recovered from her surprise. “Enough dicking around, Liz. Get that kid out of you. Now.”

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder, you slacker! Push!” she screamed right back at me. “Come on!”

“Argh!” My poor innocent vulva opened dreadfully, horribly, unnaturally wide. And then plop, the rest of my baby’s body slid out into the waiting arms of Dr. Peer. A moment later, a truly annoyed little cry filled the air, tiny baby fists flailing.

My baby. Oh wow.

I sagged back in relief, just trying to catch my breath. Anne was crying. Ben was watching our newborn child with open wonder. Martha was giving me a smug smile. Cow.

“Knew you just needed the right motivation,” she said, inspecting her perfect manicure. “Hate-fueled anger has its place, you know.”

“Clueless,” I singsonged back at her, as much as my complete lack of energy would allow. We both smiled. I don’t really know why.

The pediatrician did a quick check of our baby while the after-birth was swiftly delivered and everything dealt with. Oh wow yeah. Never again. Never ever. Probably.

“Ladies, I present to you Gibson Thunderbird Rollins-Nicholson.” Ben carefully handed my swaddled, screaming baby into my arms.

“Hey, baby. It’s okay.” Oh my god. The warmth inside of me, the pure love filling me up to overflowing. He quieted down, the shrill noise turning into tiny I’m-quite-put-out whimpers. A tiny nose and mouth, and two china blue eyes staring back at me. A shock of dark blond hair. “Look at you. You’re wonderful.”

“Isn’t he?” said Ben, letting Gibson wrap a tiny finger around one of his sizably larger ones.

“He’s a he,” I stated, somewhat startled. “Wow.”

“Wondered when you were going to clue in to that.”

“And I was so sure you’d be a girl.” I shook my head.

“He’s perfect.” Anne gazed at him with absolute adoration.

Strangely enough, so did Martha. I’d never even imagined seeing her face so soft and smitten.

“We’re naming him after your favorite bass?” I asked.

“If you don’t mind.” Ben leaned forward, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Good work, sweetheart. You kicked ass.”

“Sorry I was so hellacious.”