“Nat? You okay?”
She looks down. I follow her gaze.
There’s water pooling at her feet, and for a second, nobody moves. We all just stare.
Then chaos erupts.
“Oh my God!” Stella shrieks.
“Her water broke!” Blair’s already moving, shifting into crisis mode.
“We need to get her to the hospital!” Jess is lookingaround wildly, as if an ambulance might materialize spontaneously.
“I can’t carry her,” I say, panic rising. “My arm?—”
“I’ve got her.” Wyatt’s already there, his hand on Natalie’s elbow. “Come on, Nat. Let’s get you into the car.”
“My go bag,” Natalie says, her voice tight. “I need my go bag. Stella, can you grab it? I think it’s in the bedroom. Or maybe it’s still at my old place? I don’t remember if I brought it over?—”
“I’ll find it!” Stella’s already running toward the bedroom.
Wyatt and I help Natalie toward the door. She’s walking carefully, one hand pressed to her belly, breathing through what I’m realizing is a contraction.
“You’re okay,” I tell her. “We’re going to get you there. You’re okay.”
“I know. I just—oh God, Jake, we just got you home and now?—”
“And now we’re going to meet our daughter.” I squeeze her hand with my good one. “It’s perfect timing.”
“It’s terrible timing,” she gasps, but she’s smiling.
Wyatt gets the car door open and helps ease Natalie into the back seat. I climb in beside her, my cast making everything awkward, but I manage to get my good arm around her.
Stella comes sprinting out of the house with a duffel bag. “Got it! It was in the closet!”
She tosses it to Wyatt, who puts it in the trunk.
“We’ll meet you there!” Blair calls, already heading for her own car.
Wyatt slides into the driver’s seat. “Everybody buckled?”
“Yes,” I say. “Go.”
He pulls out of the driveway, and I realize we literally just got home. I was in this car five minutes ago. And now we’re racing to the hospital.
Natalie leans into me, her breathing controlled but tense. “This isn’t how I imagined today going.”
“No?”
“I thought we’d have time. To talk. To settle in. Maybe eat dinner.”
“We can still do all that. After.”
She laughs, then winces. “Another contraction.”
“Time them.” Wyatt says. “How far apart?”
I check my watch. “I don’t know. Five minutes? Six?”
