“Amber?” I heard Gage’s sleepy voice question.
“Well, it ain’t Santa Claus. You couldn’t answer your phone ‘cause you with your Ho Ho Ho,” she continued her tongue-lashing.
Gage sucked his teeth. “Even with the Wi-Fi, my reception is hit or miss in the cabin. Where’s Mahasin? Everything okay?” I could hear him tussling, as if reality struck that this could be an emergency.
“I’ll let her tell you. And before I give her the phone, I’m warning you—you better say the right thing, because if not, I’m kicking yours and Rudolph’s ass,” she threatened.
“Her hair is red, not her nose, Amber,” Gage corrected.
“That shit gonna be broke if y’all piss me off,” she responded, then handed me the phone.
“Gage?” My voice cracked halfway through his name.
“Doll… Mahasin? What’s wrong? You, okay? Is the baby okay?” I heard the urgency in his voice.
“Nothing is wrong. Your daughter has decided to be impatient. My water broke, I’m at the hospital, and I’ve already had the epidural. It all went well, and I just wanted to—”
He cut me off; his tone was both frantic and stern.
“I’m on my way.”
Gage
Iwas already in motion when I came to and realized what could be at stake—when it was Amber’s voice behind Mahasin’s phone. Not to mention, it was late in the evening.
Dollface’s voice still lived in my ear—she was calm, but I heard her nerves through the cracks in her voice.I had my epidural. I’m fine.She was being strong in a time when it should have been all about her. And where was I? Somewhere I shouldn’t have been—somewhere I didn’t want to be.
Teeth brushed. Jeans. Hoodie. Wallet. Keys.
I grabbed my essentials and moved with the speed of a man escaping a house fire. A chair clattered over when my foot caught it; I used the window ledge to brace my fall. The minor accidentcaused me to look outside and see that the snow had settled, and the moonlight created a serene glow.
Slow down, Gage. You can’t get to her if you’re hurt,I thought to myself.
“Where’s the fire?” Paris’ voice grazed the darkness of the room.
“Sorry I woke you,” I said, stuffing my charger into my duffel bag without looking at her. Making a mental checklist of everything I would need for the impromptu trip, I grabbed my phone and began typing to retrieve my pilot’s contact.
“What are you doing?” she asked again, angling up on one elbow, sheets clutched to her chest, her ginger curls wild and pretty, even in the blackness of the room.
“Mahasin’s in labor,” I said. “I have to go.”
Even in the dark, I could tell the mention of that name made every muscle in her face tighten.
“Of course she is. How convenient,” she huffed.
I paused, long enough to meet her eyes. She was about to tread into murky waters, but I didn’t have the time to argue.
“It’s snowing,” she went on, gesturing toward the window. “It’s the middle of the night. You won’t make it on time anyway. The baby will be waiting on you when we get back.”
“I’m not waiting,” I said. “If I don’t try, I’ll never forgive myself.”
She tilted her head, turning up her smile. “Or you’re worriedshewon’t forgive you.”
“It's bigger than that.” I slid the duffel strap over my shoulder and found the pilot’s number, thumb hovering. “It’s about showing up for my kid. I don’t want her coming into this world and her first impression of me to be that I wasn’t there.”
“You are impossible,” she sucked her teeth. “Be serious, Gage. That baby doesn’t know anybody but the incubator she grew in for nine months.”
There she goes with that disrespectful shit.
