The barista moves with the kind of deliberate slowness that suggests she’s never experienced urgency in her entire life. She wraps each scone individually in parchment paper. Arranges them in a box. Ties the box with string.
He barely resists the urge to reach over the counter and do it himself.
His phone buzzes. Emmaline.
Where are you?
Getting your scones. Leo’s bringing the bag. I love you.
Three dots appear, then:
I love you too.
Finally, the barista hands him the box and a paper cup of proper English tea. He taps his card to pay and runs.
The walk to hospital is eight blocks. He covers it in six sweaty minutes, dodging pedestrians and nearly getting hit by a cab on K Street.
He thinks about Emmaline walking this same route twenty minutes ago. In labor. Alone.
He bursts through the hospital entrance and finds the labor and delivery ward. A nurse directs him to his wife.
She’s in a curtained bay, already changed into a hospital gown, hooked up to monitors. She’s bent forward, her hands on her thighs, eyes closed, breathing through a contraction.
When it passes, she straightens and opens her eyes to see him standing in front of her.
He holds out the bakery box and the tea like an offering.
She laughs. It’s wild, on the edge of hysteria. “Hand them over.”
He does as instructed.
She opens the box and smiles. “They’re still warm.”
She plucks one out and puts it in her mouth.
“I ran the whole way.”
“My hero,” she says around bites.
She’s sipping the tea when another contraction builds. He takes the cup from her and gives her his hand to squeeze. She breathes and he murmurs encouragement until it passes.
When she catches her breath, she smiles at him, wide-eyed with disbelief. “This is it. We’re really doing this.”
“We’re really doing this.”
“Are you ready?”
He thinks about the looming deadline. The house with the tiny closet nursery and the windows that need replacing. Their bank account balance that never has enough zeros.
No, he thinks.
He looks at his wife. His steady, brilliant, lovely wife.
“Of course I am. You think I can’t outsmart a baby?”
She’s howling with laughter when the next contraction hits.
When the obstetrical resident comes in to check how far Emmaline’s cervix has dilated, Caleb steps out into the hall and makes the call.
