“Large, slightly betrayed by my own spine, and uncertain if my brain is even where I left it.”
Kate laughed. “You might feel like a whale, but you don’t look like one. Promise.”
As I started taking another step, I stopped moving, my eyebrows mashing together. Something suddenly felt off. There was a strange, sudden warmth between my legs, a shift deep down inside.
“Crap, did I just wet myself?” I blinked and looked down, realizing then that this hadn’t been a bladder control issue. “Oh.”
“Did your water just break?” Kate asked, eyes wide.
“Yes,” I said numbly. “I think it did.”
Jane was already on her feet, racing toward me. “Here, honey. Lean on me. It’s going to be fine.”
I stared at the floor, then looked back at them. “I have at least three more weeks to go.”
Kate stood up and took my other arm, gently leading me to the door. “Not anymore you don’t.”
“We’re not in London,” I said, because it felt important to share that information. “We were supposed to be in London when this happened.”
“No, you’re not in London, but you do have a perfectly capable clinic in the village, remember? Will said so at dinner last night.”
I blinked again, my brain still trying to catch up to my body. The baby seemed to have decided to make some executive decisions without consulting me and I honestly felt dumbstruck.
“Okay,” I said slowly when I finally managed to speak again. “Okay, that’s fine. Has anyone seen Will?”
A few hours later, the world seemed soft around the edges when I woke. For a second, I didn’t move, just lying there and letting the haze lift slowly, the events of the past few hours filtering back in piece by piece.
There had been rain, a light, summer drizzle that’d felt so good against my overheated skin when they’d led me to the car. Pain. Will’s voice, steady in my ear, his hands holding mine. Breathing exercises, except these hadn’t only been exercises.
My eyes finally drifted open when it occurred to me thatthey hadn’t only been exercises. Moonlight was spilling in through the window, pale and soft against the walls of the cozy, normally quiet village clinic.
It sure hadn’t been quiet today, though. Almost all the Westwoods had relocated here when they’d learned the baby was on the way.
There were only two Westwoods I wanted right now, though. “Will?”
My voice came out as more of a croak as I looked around wildly, but only for a moment before I saw him standing near the bassinet. He was moving carefully, like everything in the world had narrowed down to this one, fragile moment as he lifted our son into his arms.
He smiled as he turned toward me. “Welcome back, Mommy. Good nap?”
Seeing them together made the strangest thing happen to my chest, like it was expanding into a different dimension altogether. My gaze swept across Will’s features until it came to a rest on the angelic, gorgeous face of my son.
Bennet Westwood Roderick. One day, the Seventh Earl of Roderick, but right now, he was just ours, a tiny, perfect piece of both of us.
Will crossed the room carefully with the baby. “Say hi to Mommy, little one.”
“Hi,” I murmured, my voice still a little sleepy. “How is he doing?”
He sat on the edge of the bed, settling Bennet gently in his arms before leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. “He’s doing so well, baby. There’s still a few minutes before he needs another feed, so you can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll wake you.”
A soft laugh came out of me. “Thanks, I feel like I got hit by a carriage.”
He brushed his thumb lightly against my cheek, his shoulders finally starting to relax after what had turned into an insane day. “That seems reasonable, but you did it, Eliza. You were so amazing.”
“We did it,” I corrected.
He smiled, glancing down at our son again. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess we did.”
A soft knock sounded at the door and we both looked up. Will quietly called, “Come in.”
