The troubled look on her face was heart-breaking. She couldn’t see that she was already an amazing mother just because she cared so damn much. I cupped her face and pressed my forehead against hers.
“Don’t you dare talk like that,” I said fiercely. “You just said it yourself. Some babies can’t latch. Does that make our peanut a failure?”
Sabrina stiffened as anger took the place of worry and sadness on her face.
“Of course not,” she snapped as if the idea was ridiculous. I suppressed laughter. Her mood was all over the place, and I’d learned early on that she could get volatile if I let her know that I found that to be funny.
“Good. Then we agree,” I said, standing and holding out my hand to her. “You know what I think? We should get proactive. Make that baby nice and fat before it comes out.”
Finally, she smiled. Moving the bowl and book to the end table beside her, she took my hand and let me help her to her feet.
“Is that your way of asking me to make that apple tart I promised?”
“I’m just trying to support your goals,” I said, attempting wide-eyed innocence.
Sabrina was planning to move forward with her dream of starting a café. She already had a detailed business plan and now she was working on building up her savings account enough to open it in about a year. In the meantime, she was determined to create a perfect menu.
She laughed, shoving my shoulder playfully, but she headed into the kitchen. I picked up the apples before she could and took them to the counter, where she’d already laid out the ingredients she’d need. Opening the bag, she picked out a particularly bright red apple from the bag and rinsed it off before taking a bite.
Sabrina let out a moan of satisfaction that made my cock feel heavy. Pregnant or not, she was still hot as hell.
“I love these apples,” she said, opening her mouth to take another bite, but she froze with the apple halfway to her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, hurrying to her side as I saw the stark fear in her eyes.
Without answering, she looked down, and I followed her line of sight until I realized her pants were soaking wet.
“Is that…” I trailed off as panic took a hold of me.
Fuck. I wasn’t ready for this yet. I should be—I’d had seven months to prepare—but I thought I had a couple more weeks to get ready. I didn’t know how to be a dad…
“Butch—” Sabrina’s voice was faint as she doubled over in pain. That snapped me out of it. Ready or not, the baby was coming.
“Shit. Okay, let me get the bag. You packed a bag, right? And the keys.” I patted my pockets, but didn’t feel them there. “Where hell did I put the keys?”
My voice was tight and there was no hiding the anxiety there, but I didn’t care about that right now. I had to take care of my girl.
“You left the keys on the table,” she said, nodding in that direction. Sure enough, there they were. “And yes, I packed a bag. But I want to change my pants before we go.”
“Do we have time for that?”
She chuckled, and I realized that she was calm. After weeks of worrying about anything and everything, she seemed almost relaxed.
“Yes, we have time. I haven’t even had a second contraction yet.”
“How are you not freaking out right now?” I asked, following her into the bedroom, where she peeled off her wet pants and grabbed a pair of pajama pants from the dresser. I gave her a questioning look. “What? I’m in labor. I’ll wear whatever the hell I want.”
“As long as you’re comfortable,” I agreed. Sabrina let out a muffled cry of pain, holding herself upright with a hand on the dresser as another contraction hit. “Or as comfortable as possible.”
I grabbed the duffle bag she had packed from the closet and threw it over my shoulder. Placing an arm around her waist, I led her out of the apartment and down the stairs. We had to stop once while she had another contraction and I realized that they were getting more painful for her as she cried out loud enough to bring Trainer out of his apartment to investigate. Once he caught sight of the two of us, he understood.
“You tight?” he asked me. “Got this?”
I tightened my hold around her waist and nodded. Trainer smiled and shifted his eyes to Sabrina. “Good luck.”
The ride to the hospital was smooth. I was thrilled to make every green light, even though my stress level skyrocketed with every contraction. I hated seeing my girl in pain.
When we reached the hospital, I parked as close as I could, but when Sabrina’s worst contraction hit and her knees buckled, I scooped her into my arm and carried her the rest of the way inside, refusing a wheelchair, I didn’t release her until I lowered her onto the hospital bed.
