"Closet. By the door."
He rushes to the closet, grabs the hospital bag we packed weeks ago, then rushes back. "Got it. What else? What do you need?"
"Help me up." I extend my hand. "And maybe some pants that aren't soaked."
"Right. Pants. You need pants." He's moving around the room like a tornado, opening drawers at random. "Where are your pants?"
"Second drawer. Maksim, breathe."
"I'm breathing." He pulls out a pair of loose sweatpants. "Here. Can you put these on? Should I help? I'll help."
He helps me change, his hands shaking the entire time. Another contraction hits halfway through, and I have to grip his shoulder until it passes.
"How far apart are they?" he asks.
"I don't know. Five minutes? Maybe less?" Everything is happening so fast. "We need to go. Now."
"Going. We're going." He helps me stand, supporting most of my weight. "Car is downstairs. We can make it to the hospital in fifteen minutes. Maybe ten if I speed."
"Don't speed. The last thing we need is to get pulled over."
"Right. No speeding. Reasonable speeds only." He's practically carrying me down the hall. "Should I call ahead? Tell them we're coming?"
"Yes. Call them."
He fumbles for his phone with one hand while supporting me with the other. I hear him speaking rapidly to someone at the hospital, giving them our information.
"You're doing great," Maksim says, though he looks like he might pass out. "Really great. Just breathe."
"I am breathing."
"Good. That's good. Keep doing that."
Semyon is just pulling up to the compound.
"She's in labor," Maksim announces unnecessarily.
"I can see that." Semyon opens the car door. "I'll drive. You stay with her."
"No, I can—"
"You're shaking like a leaf. Get in the back." Semyon's voice brooks no argument.
Maksim helps me into the backseat, then climbs in beside me. I grip his hand as Semyon races down the driveway.
"Breathe," Maksim reminds me. "You're doing amazing. So strong. I love you."
Another contraction hits harder than before. I squeeze his hand so tightly I hear his bones creak.
"Fuck," I gasp when it passes. "That hurt."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He looks genuinely distressed, like he's the one in pain. "We're almost there. Just hold on."
“Call Anya.”
“I will,” he says.
Semyon pulls up to the emergency entrance, and suddenly there are people everywhere. Nurses with a wheelchair.
