Sloane leans in, her eyes bright with concern. “Should we call her back?”
“Or the police?” I half-joke, but there’s an anxious flutter in my gut. “Let’s try Todd.”
I tap out a quick call. Todd answers on the first ring, voice tight and high.
“She’s in labour. She exploded in my car, Eden. There was liquid everywhere! We’re maybe four minutes from Mercy General. What do I do, Eden? She bit me.”
There’s a background cacophony of Pia’s cursing and heavy breathing. Sloane grabs the phone from me, ever the problem-solver.
“Todd, you’re doing great. Is she timing contractions?”
“She’s just screaming, Sloane. Every thirty seconds, it’s like a horror movie in here.”
Sloane gives me a look—equal parts amusement and secondhand panic.
“That means it’s go time. Park right by the emergency entrance. Leave the hazard lights on. Donotlet her walk in alone, or she will roundhouse kick the security guard.”
“Okay. Copy that.” Todd hangs up and Sloane hands me my phone back.
I put it down and stare at Sloane. “We gotta go.”
“Let’s get the bill and a doggy bag. We’ll eat in the car if we have to.”
We’re out the door and halfway down the block before I even realise I’m holding a half-eaten wedge of bread. It’s been smushed into a doughy mess.
Funny, all my nerves about the First Official Date have dissipated, replaced with a warm, focused energy. The night air is cool. Sloane’s hand finds mine and squeezes once. “We’ll have to celebrate with crème brûléeafterwe become honorary queer aunties,” she whispers.
“Deal,” I whisper back. “Although I might need something stronger than baked egg and sugar.”
We end up power walking to my apartment, where I sprint up the stairs and burst through the door shouting for my roomies to get their shit together because we’ve got a kid to help birth. I don’t know why I said it, because I have no intention of helping birth anything. My brain’s just overexcited. We all pile into Sloane’s car and make it to the hospital in record time.
Along the way I light up with adrenaline, thinking of Pia’s red-faced fuming, Todd’s helpless terror, and Bella’s inevitable commentary about birth fluids. Sloane and I are both panting a little by the time we burst through the sliding doors of Mercy General. The waiting room smells like lemon cleanser and wet coats.
We find Todd, pale and wild-eyed, in the corridor. “They took her to a room,” he stammers.
Sloane steps forward and gently takes his hand. “Hey,” she begins. “Just take a breath, Todd. Nice and deep,like this.” She takes purposefully deep breaths, allowing her chest to rise and fall dramatically. Todd still looks ten seconds away from passing out, but he follows along. Hell, I follow along because this shit is stressful.
A nurse steps through some sliding doors and calls Todd over.
“She’s set up and asking for you.”
He swallows thickly and nods.
“Dude,” I say. “It’s going to be fine. Pia will have that baby out in no time.”
We all laugh, including Todd. “She wants you in there, Eden. When she’s giving birth.”
It’s my turn to go pale and almost pass out.
16
Sloane
Oh boy, Eden has turned as pale as Todd. We’re going to have two unconscious people on our hands soon.
“Eden, take a breath,” I say, reaching for her hand. “You’ve got this.”
“I really don’t,” she replies, looking panicked. “Pia never bloody told me she wanted me in there!”
