“What are you talking—”
“When I was pregnant with Emma, and at the hospital, there was another woman in the room beside me in active labor. She was crying because they wouldn’t give her water. It was a whole thing. I cannot live off ice chips, Wyatt. I won’t.”
She’s talking like he’s planning to keep her from the faucet somehow or wrestle a glass of water from her hands.
How easily she could burst into tears at any moment keeps him from pointing out that they don’t have any ice. “I’ll bring you all the water you want.”
“Okay. Okay, good. Thank you, but it doesn’t matter anyway because this isn’t happening yet.”
“Right. It’s definitely not.” He nods.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
She leaves him dumbfounded in the bedroom, and a few moments later, he hears the shower running. That’s whatkickstarts him to finally leave the half-soaked bed and get to work.
He strips off the sheets and tosses them in the laundry room, then grabs a watch from a drawer along with a notepad and pen to track her contractions.
He assumes she’ll want to have the baby here, but they haven’t discussed that yet. For all he knows, she’ll decide on some random spot, like one of the cats birthing their kittens in the cow’s feed trough. He flips the mattress over and puts on fresh sheets, arranging a tower of towels on the dresser.
This is what he’s been studying all those books for. This is what he’s been training for. He is ready, even if she isn’t.
At least until it sinks in that sometime within the next day, there’s going to be a whole new person with them. Then, he isn’t certain what he’s feeling, and fussing with random tasks is easier than figuring it out.
Maybe she’ll want it darker, he thinks, closing the window blinds.
No, no, that’s depressing. He opens them again to let the morning sun stream in unfiltered.
He moves the bassinet to five different spots, each one not quite right. Too bright, too far away, was that a draft…there’s no Goldilocks spot, and he sighs in frustration, sinking onto the corner of the bed.
Holy shit, they’re having a baby today.
Frantically, he pulls the books from the bedside drawers. Not that those are a substitute for a real doctor. He could read every line ten times over and still not have a clue how to do half the shit required if something goes wrong, and there are so many things that could go wrong.
They are having a baby today, and he could lose them both today.
They know better than most how quickly things can nosedive, but he won’t be useful to anyone if he thinks about that now. So he forces his mind in another direction, hard as it is, and imagines how it’ll feel to meet his daughter after months of waiting. She’ll probably have her mother’s big blue eyes and that delicate smile.
Maybe luck will spare her most of his traits.
He hopes that she’ll like him because he already loves her.
“What’s wrong? You’ve got a thousand-yard stare combined with the biggest smile, and to be honest, it’s got me worried.” Addison appears in the doorway in clean clothes with damp hair.
“I just realized we get to meet her today,” he replies softly.
Addison comes to stand between his parted legs, cups his face, and drops the softest kiss on his lips. “That’s very sweet, but this is not happening yet. I feel fine. Let’s make breakfast.”
Okay, so she wasn’t joking. They are absolutely pretending that she’s not labor.
For now.
* * *
They’ve eaten breakfast like nothing is amiss and explained to Emma that the baby will be here soon, but in the same breath, assured her that this is not happening.
Somewhere around lunchtime, Addison focuses on hoarding glasses of water and eating her fill of anything not nailed down.
Her accumulated liquid stash shimmers like little prisms atop the fireplace mantle, which is the go-to spot to keep the cat from stealing a drink.
