“Yeah, I think I ate too much. My stomach feels tight, and I just feel uncomfortable.” There has been this tight feeling around my stomach for the last few hours, and I am desperate to get home to sleep.
“Ugh, I used to hate that feeling. Towards the end of my pregnancies, it felt like my babies were pressing on my bladder all the time,” Ria shares.
“That’s exactly it. I think I need to go to the bathroom again because this pressure, holy cow.” I whistle. We stop when we reach Gabby’s car, and as she clicks the key fob, her brand new Range Rover beeps letting her know it is open. Then the intense pressure builds, followed by a gush of something warm and wet.
“Oh, my god. What was that? Did I just pee myself?” I say frantically, looking down at the liquid trickling down my legs.
“Tori, I think that was your water breaking,” Ria says on a gulp.
Panic sets in. No, no, it can’t be. I have at least three more weeks, and Noah isn’t here.
A cramping shoots from my stomach into the tops of my thighs, stealing my breath, and I buckle over in pain on a whimper.
“Oh, my god. We need to get you to a hospital,” Ria says, her tone panicked.
“She helps me into the back seat of the SUV, and everyone else climbs in just as another contraction follows, and I cry out in pain.
“Hurry, please,” I scream.
“Breath, Tor. In and out, in and out,” Ria soothes, holding my hand.
Gabby tears out of the parking lot, causing us to all tilt to the side, and has me reaching for the Oh Jesus handle.
“Easy,Richard Petty, I think Tori would like to make it to the hospital in one piece,” Ali yells, bracing her palms on the dashboard.
“Sorry.” Gabby winces, doing her best to weave through the New York traffic.
Beads of sweat coat my forehead as another contraction takes hold. I throw my head back against the leather headrest as a long, painful groan escapes.
“Gabby, how long?” Ria asks, her tone calmer than before.
“Sat nav says thirty minutes.”
“I don’t think the baby is going to wait that long. These contractions are coming thick and fast,” Ria replies.
“I can’t have my baby in a car,” I scream as another contraction blindsides me.
“You won’t.” Ali twists in her seat to reassure me. “Gabby, head to the apartment. I’m calling Harry.”
Gabby shrieks as the wipers on the windscreen start swiping frantically and the screen wash sprays over the glass, earning a beep from a neighboring car.
“What are you doing?” Ali yells. “Why are you acting like you’ve never operated a vehicle before?”
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m panicking, okay. Brad will freak out if she has the baby on his new seats. You know what he’s like with being clean.”
Ali waves a dismissive hand. “It’s leather, it’ll wipe.”
“I can’t do this, Ria. I can’t do this without him,” I sob, and she squeezes my hand so tight it distracts me from the contraction that is building.
“Yes, you can.” She sounds confident, but I wish I believed her. As the next contraction hits its peak, I break, sobbing uncontrollably, mourning a moment I haven’t yet had. Noah won’t get to watch his daughter be born, and that breaks a part of my heart that I’m not sure will be fixable.
“I can’t do this. I can’t do this,” I chant, my tone panicked, my breathing erratic, my thoughts even more so.
I won’t survive this. Why isn’t he here? What if he never gets to meet her? What if something happens to my baby because we can’t make it to the hospital?
“Tori, breathe for me,” Ria instructs, but she sounds so far away. Blood thunders in my ears, and I can feel myself spiraling.
The car comes to an abrupt halt, and the car door is wrenched open. Harry’s terrified gaze meets mine. “Tor.”
