What the fuck.What the fuck.
Before there’s too much time to spiral, the discomfort dissipates. I lie perfectly still, taking controlled breaths and feeling my pulse bang against the palm spread across my stomach.
Rolling to my other side, I pick up my phone to check the time: 4:54 a.m. Chase’s alarm will go off in six minutes. Then I can have him reassure me I’m being crazy. I’ll take some painkillers or something. It’ll be fine.
Sleeping is out of the question. Staring at the small digital numbers is the only thing I feel confident Icando to prevent myself from having a full panic attack. One minute until his alarm. Then he’ll ease my…
Nope.I haven’t had a baby and I should have taken Kate up on her offer to chat. Because this can’t be. Can it? There’s still a full month left. No. I’m making the executive decision. It’s not happening. Simple as that.
“Wasn’t expecting you to be awake.” Turning off his phone alarm, he rolls over and kisses my shoulder.
“I’m just… really uncomfortable, for some reason. Like everything is super tight.”
His lips leave my shoulder, concern washing over his sleepy face. “Should we go to the hospital?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably from sleeping without the pregnancy pillow. Or I need to drink some water. Or it’s contractions. Or it’s from the sex last night. Or I don’t know.”
“Cass. You can’t throw ‘or it’s contractions’ in there and breeze past it. Is that what’s happening?”
“Imean… maybe. Itispretty consistent… But I’ve never done this. What the hell do I know?”
“Jesus.Why didn’t you wake me up?” He tosses the covers off and scrambles out of bed, throwing his shirt and jeans on within seconds. Then he stares at me, like I’m the insane one for not trying to break a world record with how quickly I can haul my ass out of bed and get dressed. “Come on. It’s a long fucking drive to the hospital. I’m not messing around here so we can end up having a baby—anearlyone—on the side of the highway.”
“Okay,” I say, exasperated. “You’re right. Let’s go. But if this is something super embarrassing, like I need to pop an antacid, you don’t get to laugh at me.”
“No laughing. Only celebratory French fries if that’s what this turns out to be. Get dressed, I’ll go start the truck so it can warm up.” He slips out the door, leaving me to freak out.
My brain’s foggy, but somehow I manage to get dressed and sit myself on the edge of the bed to wait for him. I’ve been so wrapped up in our relationship—or lack thereof—I forgot about all the parenting shit. I don’t have a hospital bag. We haven’t picked out a name. I haven’t fully decided if I want an epidural—no, I absolutely do. We haven’t talked about whether he’s allowed anywhere near the foot of the bed during the birth. I don’t know if I can do this.
“Hey.” Chase is suddenly crouched in front of me with his hands on my knees. “It’s all going to be good. The truck’s warm, I have a bottle of water for you to drink, and we can stop at your place to grab whatever you need.”
I lick my parched lips. “I don’t have anything packed. I made the list but I haven’t…”
“That’s fine. I’ll grab stuff. Come on,” he says with a soft smile. Even softer voice. Taking my hands and pulling me to my feet.
“I couldn’t bring myself to pack the bag… because it made me think about having to do this without you.”
His lips graze across my knuckles. “Sweetheart, you got me. I’m here. You aren’t doing this without me.”
The drive into Wells Canyon is painfully slow, thanks to the actual pain in my stomach every five to six minutes and Chase driving at funeral procession speed.
“Sorry, but why are we moving slower than molasses? We’ll be lucky to get to Sheridan by my actual due date at this rate.” I place my trembling hand over his, which is resting comfortably on my thigh. Just the simple calming weight of his palm has me thanking whatever higher power is out there that I have him. I’d be in a full-on panic attack if I were alone.
“Because this road is bumpy as shit, and I don’t need to jostle Little Spud right out.”
“You know what’s funny.” I wedge my toes against the heat vent. “We’ve known she’s a girl formonthsand haven’t bothered to name her.”
“You mean she can’t be Little Spud forever?”
“Yeah and be bullied relentlessly.”
His grip on my thigh tightens. “I’d love to see any kids fucking try.”
“You can’t beat up children.” I give him a disapproving sideways glance. “Anyway, you’re missing the point here. She needs a name.”
“Rhett and Odessa can do it for me.” His grip loosens, thumb slowly rubbing across the top of my thigh and sending warmth through my veins. “I assume you have a whole list of names. What do you like?”
I pull my phone from my pocket. “Thought you’d never ask.” I tap away, pulling up the list I’ve been curating since I was approximately thirteen years old. “Ivy, Poppy, Hazel, Eloise, Noelle, Fiona, Ada—”
