I stared at Winnie.
“What?”
“Athena. Labor. Now. Ambulance is bringing her to the hospital.”
No. That’s not possible.
The C-section is scheduled for Wednesday.
It’s Monday.
She’s not supposed to go into labor until Wednesday.
“That’s not—” I started. “She can’t—the schedule—”
“The babies didn’t check your schedule,” Winnie said.
My left eye started twitching.
“But.” I looked at my tablet, as if the carefully color-coded timeline would somehow make this make sense. “Wednesday. Seven AM. Dr. Morrison. Operating room three. I have it all planned.”
“Julien,” Nathan said carefully. “You need to go to the hospital.”
“I can’t go to the hospital. I have the Hendersons at ten.”
“I’ll take the Hendersons,” Gabriel said immediately.
“And the Chens at eleven.”
“I’ve got them,” Sarah said.
“And the afternoon consultations.”
“Covered,” Quinton said. “All of it. Go.”
I stood up.
Sat back down.
Stood up again.
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
I have a PLAN!
“Julien,” Hayden said, his voice gentle. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re hyperventilating.”
“I’m not.” I stopped. He was right. I was breathing too fast. “The hospital bag. Did she have the hospital bag? I packed it last night. Three changes of clothes for her, receiving blankets for the babies, my change of clothes, snacks, phone chargers.”
“I’m sure she has it,” Winnie said.
“But what if she doesn’t? What if she forgot it? What if—”
