Nine months later
We’ve been here for seven hours and forty minutes, but only the last three have counted.
Well, from what the nurses say, anyway.
Brody sits on Georgia’s right, a white-knuckled grip on the plastic water cup, while I have her left hand in both of mine, trying to be the strong anchor but failing spectacularly. Emmett stands at the foot of the bed, one hand in his hair and the other gesturing at nothing, every thirty seconds glancing at the door like he’s expecting the President to walk in or something.
“Oh my god…” Georgia’s contraction hits hard, tightening her entire body. She bares her teeth and lets out a low, feral groan that would terrify any man who hadn’t been watching her do this for the last seven hours.
“Damn, that hurts!” she shouts, gripping my hand tight enough that I’m convinced she’ll break something. Her face flushes crimson, sweat slicking her hair to her temples.
I count down quietly. “Three… two… one…” and as if by magic, the contraction recedes, her entire body going slack.
Brody offers her the water. “Small sips, Georgie. You’re killing it. Almost there.”
She drinks, then shoves the cup back at him. “I swear to god, if one of you says‘almost there’again, I’m going to rip out your tongues and feed them to you.”
Emmett barks out a laugh. “Understood, my love. No motivational speeches. Noted.”
I try to smile, but my stomach is a bundle of nerves and caffeine, and I don’t trust my voice to come out steady. The doctor—Mary, forty-ish, nothing but calm—pops her head in with a nurse trailing behind, hands full of equipment and a clipboard.
“Hi, lovebirds,” Mary says, her eyes bright despite being here for a full seven hours. “How are we feeling?”
Georgia levels her with a look that could curdle cream. “Like I’m being turned inside out. Is that normal? Or is it time to cut me open?”
Mary grins. “Absolutely, it’s normal. But let’s check those numbers, okay?”
She snaps on gloves and does her business. I try not to look. I fail, as usual, and quickly avert my eyes and study Georgia’s face instead. I take in the flush on her cheeks, the way her jaw is clenched, and the little tremor in her left eyelid that tells me she’s on the edge of losing it.
“All right, Mama,” Mary says, removing her gloves with a single, efficient snap. “You’re fully dilated and ready to push.”
There’s a collective exhale.
Georgia lets her head drop back. “Thank god.”
The nurse wheels over a tray of towels and metal objects and I totally don’t want to know what those are for.
Brody, who not shockingly is the calmest of us all, takes a steadying breath. “We’re here, Georgie,” he murmurs. “You got this.”
Emmett comes up the left side, grabs a towel, and tenderly dabs Georgia’s forehead. “You hear that, baby? You’re basically Wonder Woman.”
She rolls her eyes, but her expression softens a touch. “Just don’t let me shit myself in front of you.”
Brody smirks. “Emmett’s done worse to impress a crowd.”
“True story,” Emmett says, but his eyes are glassy and he’s biting his lip, nerves in overdrive.
Mary positions herself at the foot of the bed, her whole body radiating calm. “Okay, Georgia, with the next contraction, you’re going to take a deep breath and push like you’re trying to win an Olympic medal. You ready?”
Georgia squeezes my hand again, and I nod, counting the seconds as the next contraction builds.
“And…now!” Mary says.
Georgia inhales and bears down, her entire body shaking with the effort.
I count for her, loud and mechanical, because I need to be useful. “One… two… three…” Up to ten, then she lets out a scream that vibrates in my bones. I catch Brody’s eyes—he’s gone pale, but he’s locked in, never letting Georgia out of his sight.
Emmett whispers, “You got this, honey,” close to her ear, stroking her hair as she shudders.
