A KISS FOR A KISS

by Hunting, Helena

  I send him out the door, and Queenie and I settle in to watch the game.

  “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” Queenie’s sitting at the other end of the couch, hand stitching felt animals for the mobile she’s making for the baby.

  “I’m good.” I shift around, trying to get comfortable, but my lower back has been aching all day. Probably because I snuck in a quick vacuum when Jake went out to pick up more fruit for me. It’s basically all I’ve been eating the past few days.

  “Are you sure? You keep grimacing. Do you want me to move the laundry from the lounger and you can sit there?”

  “Those are your dad’s dirty socks.”

  Queenie’s nose wrinkles. “You’re not serious.”

  “Oh, I totally am.” I rub my belly when it feels like JJ is doing somersaults. “He’s moving, want to feel?”

  “Oh! Yes!” Queenie slides across the couch, and I take her hand, placing it over my belly as JJ does another spin in his cramped quarters. “He’s really moving around in there, isn’t he?”

  “This is his most active time of day.” I pat my belly. “Not long now, little man.” I cringe at the sharp pain that shoots across my stomach.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Lots of Braxton Hicks lately. And I’ve been eating a ton of fruit, so that’s been a thing.”

  I manage to make it to the end of the first period before I have to waddle to the bathroom. I don’t even get the door closed before a gush of warmth makes me pause. For a second I think I’ve peed my pants, until I realize I haven’t.

  “Oh crap.” I watch as the grey sweats darken at the crotch.

  When I gave birth to Ryan, it all happened so fast. Faster than I thought possible. I had a midwife, and we’d planned a home birth. Something that wasn’t as common as it is these days. My parents had wanted to limit the number of people who knew I was pregnant. He’d been in breech, and it had taken time to get him turned around. It hadn’t been comfortable, and I hadn’t had an epidural, but within four hours of my first contraction, I’d been holding him in my arms.

  “Queenie! Can I get a hand?”

  I can hear her running down the hall. The bathroom door flies open as the first contraction hits. It’s mild, but I grab the edge of the vanity to steady myself.

  “Oh my gosh. Is it time?” Her wide eyes shift to my wet sweats. “It’s time!”

  I nod. “It’s time.”

  She flails and takes a step toward me. “Do you need to sit down? I need to get the bag. We have to go to the hospital. I need to call my dad.”

  I raise a hand and smile. “Take a breath, Queenie. The baby isn’t coming in the next five minutes.”

  “Right. Okay. Sorry. I’m supposed to be your support, not the other way around.”

  “Well, to be fair, I’ve done this before and you haven’t.”

  She inhales deeply and exhales a slow breath, collecting herself. “What do you need me to do first?”

  “Can you bring me my phone and then start the car?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” She rushes down the hall and reappears a handful of seconds later with my phone in her hand.

  “My bag is sitting on top of the bed in the spare room. Can you grab that for me, please?” I’ve slept in there maybe a handful of times since I’ve moved in. Mostly when I’m uncomfortable and thrashing around like an angry walrus in the middle of the night and don’t want to keep Jake up. Even on those nights, I usually spend an hour in the spare room and go back to our bed when I inevitably have to make another trip to the bathroom.

  “Yup. Should I grab you a fresh pair of pants?”

  “I can do that in a minute.”

  I sit on the closed toilet seat and remember I haven’t used the bathroom yet. Which I’ll need to do before we leave for the hospital. But first I need to call Jake.

  He messaged less than a minute ago, asking how I’m doing.

  I accidentally hit the FaceTime button, but it’s too late to turn back now.

  His handsome face appears in the small screen, a furrow already decorating his brow. “Hey, babe, everything okay?”

  A calm settles over me, so different than the last time I did this. I have a partner, someone who will stand by my side at every turn and who is going to love this child with his whole heart, just like I am. “Everything is fine.”

  His gaze shifts to my surroundings. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive, but you should make your way to the hospital because I’m pretty sure we’re having a baby in the next few hours.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say? I can’t hear a damn thing.” It’s noisy in the arena. I can tell he’s walking based on the way the phone moves around and then suddenly it’s quiet and dark. A second later there’s light.

  “Are you in a supply closet?”

  He looks around. “Seems that way.”

  “Okay! I have your bag. There aren’t any pants in the dresser.” Queenie’s grin tells me she found the drawer.

  “Your bag? What’s going on? Are you in labor? Is it time?” Jake’s eyes are suddenly wide.

  “It’s time,” I tell him.

  “He’s supposed to sit tight until next week.” There’s worry in his tone. It’s understandable after everything we’ve been through during this pregnancy.

  “I guess he has other plans.” I rub my belly. “It’s okay, Jake. He’s going to be fine.” My doctor assured me that we’re safe now, and even if JJ does come earlier than we planned, I’m safe to deliver. I have to trust that we’ve made it this far, and that we can handle whatever is next.

  Jake runs his fingers through his hair. “Should I come home and get you?”

  “It’s probably better if you meet us at the hospital.” I cringe as another contraction hits. This one stronger than the last. “I don’t know how fast this is going to go.”

  “Shit. Okay. I’m leaving now. I’ll see you soon.” He’s in motion again, the phone jostling as he jogs.

  “We’re leaving now, too.”

  I’m about to end the call.

  “Hanna?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I…” He closes his mouth and presses his lips together. “Drive safe, please.”

  “Of course. You, too.”

  I end the call, use the bathroom, and change into dry underwear and sweats. Queenie shoulders my bag and I slip my feet into my shoes, pull on my jacket, and waddle to the door. She throws it open and we both stop short.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Queenie’s cheeks puff out.

  “Since when was it calling for snow?” I ask.

  “I didn’t think it was.” She takes my arm, and we cross the slick driveway. “Why does February always have to be so unpredictable?”

  At least we have my SUV, which is new and has good tires.

  Unfortunately, Seattle is not like the Midwest or the states near the Canadian border on the other side of the country, which are used to snowfalls. The drive to the hospital usually takes twenty minutes, but thanks to the inch of white stuff, we’re crawling along at ten miles per hour. It blows my mind that a tiny bit of snow has the ability to paralyze an entire city.

  And the contractions are getting closer together. And stronger. A lot stronger.

  “How you doing over there?” Queenie is white-knuckling the steering wheel. She’s also leaning forward in the seat, and the wipers are going eleven million miles a second.

  The light fifty feet ahead turns yellow, and she eases her foot off the gas and applies the brake. The back tires skid for a moment before they find traction again. We both hold our breath sigh in relief when the car comes to a stop and doesn’t manage to slide into the intersection like the one coming in the opposite direction.

  It all happens in slow motion. The car shifts course and starts to head toward us. I can see the panic on the driver’s face. It’s a young man. Early twenties at best. He spins the wheel and fishtails.

  Queenie and I brace for impact,
and the back bumper skids toward us and nearly hits the front of the SUV but manages to miss us by mere inches.

  Both Queenie and I breathe another sigh of relief.

  Unfortunately, the car coming up the left lane can’t see what’s happening and the two collide. Thankfully, neither of them is going particularly fast on account of the bad weather, so it looks like a fender bender, but the entire intersection is blocked and we’re currently boxed in on three sides.

  “Shit. Crap. This is a mess! Are you okay?”

  Queenie reaches for me as I plant one hand on the dash and grip the armrest, huffing through a groan as another massive contraction rolls through me. It’s a full thirty seconds before this one passes.

  “You should put your hazards on and park the SUV because I don’t think we’re going anywhere for a while. Then call 9-1-1. I’ll call Jake and tell him where we are.”

  “Okay. I can do that.” She shifts the SUV into park. Her phone is set in the cradle on the dash. We’re still a good ten minutes from the hospital, and that’s without an accident blocking the intersection or the snow. There are now five cars involved and a lot of people yelling at each other.

  It takes me two tries to pick up my phone. Giving birth in my car is not ideal. Giving birth in an intersection where an accident has happened is even less ideal.

  I call Jake, this time audio and no video.

  “Hey, babe. It’s taking me a lot longer to get to the hospital because of the snow. I’m on the freeway, but we’re crawling along here. It looks like I’m still about twenty minutes out. Are you there yet? How are the roads?”

  “What’s your next exit?” I survey the scene and glance at the clock on the dash. I need to start timing these contractions.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “We’re stuck at an intersection. Hold on. Contraction.” I clench my teeth and focus on breathing as it hits.

  “Hanna? What the heck is going on? Where are you?”

  “Dad, there was an accident,” Queenie says.

  “You were in an accident?” I hear the panic in his voice.

  “No. We’re fine. There was an accident, but we weren’t involved. It’s blocking the intersection so we can’t get around them. I don’t know if I should try another route or not.” Queenie looks to me, her uncertainty evident.

  I shake my head. “No. Don’t do that. I don’t know if we’re going to make it to the hospital before this baby arrives.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Hang on, Baby, It’s a Bumpy Ride

  Jake

  THERE IS NO way in hell I’m missing the birth of my son. I nearly missed it the first time around. That’s not going to happen again. Queenie tells me what intersection they’re at and I get off the freeway. I’m only ten minutes from where they are, but people are driving like idiots and I’m trying to be careful while also trying to get there before my son makes his appearance in the world.

  I want to switch to video chat, but Hanna doesn’t want my attention divided between her and the road. Which I understand, but still.

  A handful of minutes later, I hear the telltale sound of sirens through the phone.

  “Oh, thank God. The ambulance is here and so are the fire department and the police.”

  “I’m going to flag someone down and see if we can’t get some help,” Queenie declares.

  “Good plan,” Hanna pants through what I assume is another contraction. “I can’t believe I’m not going to be able to have an epidural again.” She groans loudly.

  “I’m going to be there in a few minutes, okay? Do you think you can hold on that long?”

  “I’m going to try my best, but it feels like this guy wants out in a big way.”

  I make it within a block of the accident, but barricades have been set up, preventing me from getting to Hanna by vehicle. I park like an asshole and run the rest of the way to her.

  The EMTs are in the process of moving her from the SUV to the back of the ambulance when I reach the scene. “Hey! That’s my girlfriend,” I shout.

  “Dad, oh, thank God you made it on time!” Queenie gives me a hug and then shoves me in the direction of the ambulance. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  An attendant gives me a hand up when Hanna tells them I’m the father and that she definitely wants me with her. And then we’re off, heading toward the hospital, sirens blaring and lights flashing.

  “I’m so glad you made it.” She squeezes my hand, and her warm smile turns into a grimace, her grip tightening until it feels like my fingers are at risk of breaking.

  “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” I kiss her sweaty forehead. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  “I really wanted a goddamn epidural this time,” she says through gritted teeth.

  “You’ve got this. Just breathe through it.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not pushing a watermelon out of your vagina.” She smiles for a second and then groans again.

  “I’m sorry I did this to you.” I let her use my hand as a stress toy.

  “I’m not. There’s no one else I can imagine having a baby with in a freak Seattle snowstorm.”

  By the time we make it to the hospital, the contractions are right on top of each other. One barely waning before another hits. The doctor is waiting at the doors for us, and we rush down the hall.

  “You’re a badass, Hanna,” I tell her as she tries to pulverize my hand for the hundredth time. “A beautiful badass.”

  “I probably look like a hot mess.”

  “Just hot, minus the mess.”

  “You’re such a liar, Jake, but I love you anyway.”

  She breathes her way through another contraction.

  I don’t know if she’s even realized what she said. I wanted to tell her the same thing earlier, but I didn’t want the first time I said those words to be over the phone.

  “Not a liar at all, and I love you, too.” I kiss the back of her hand and her gaze shoots to mine, eyes flaring a little.

  She smiles for a moment, but it quickly contorts into something pained. “This baby is coming now,” she tells the doctor.

  We barely make it inside the delivery room before the pushing starts.

  I stand by her side, telling her she’s doing an awesome job. Based on the feral sounds she keeps making and the way she white-knuckles the bed rails with every contraction, giving birth is no walk in the park. I’m glad I’m here for the experience this time, instead of arriving at the tail end, when the hardest part was over. “I’ll get you a peanut buster parfait right after I meet our son.”

  She laughs and then grunts. “Stop making me laugh! I’m trying to push a damn baby out.”

  “And you’re doing a damn good job.”

  “How big is this freaking kid?” She bears down again. “Doc, you better do a good job stitching me up.”

  “I promise I’ll make sure you’re as good as new,” her doctor assures her.

  “You better or I’m giving you a bad Yelp review,” she gripes, but she’s smiling. At least until she has to push again. “Come on, kid, let’s get this done. I have a peanut buster parfait with my name on it waiting for me at the end of this. Your dad said so,” she grits, then turns to me. “Thanks for making me hungry.”

  “I’ll even spoon-feed it to you.”

  “You’re such a romantic.”

  “Hey.” The doctor snaps her fingers. “I need you two to focus instead of flirting with each other.”

  Hanna shifts her attention back to the doctor.

  “One more big push on the next contraction, okay?”

  “Okay.” She grips the bed rails.

  I’d offer my hand, but I don’t want to leave here in a cast.

  As soon as the contraction hits, Hanna bears down.

  “And the head is out! Give me another one.”

  Two more pushes later and some serious profanity directed at me, our son is born.

  His little cry is music to my ears.
They clean him up before they rest him on Hanna’s chest. Her eyes fill with wonder and tears as she takes in his tiny, perfect face.

  “Hey there, my beautiful boy. You came in like a storm, didn’t you?” Her gaze lifts to mine as two tears track down her cheeks. “We did it.”

  I brush them away. “It was all you, babe. I just came along for the ride.”

  “Come here.” She grabs my tie with her free hand.

  I’m still dressed in a full suit. I bend to meet her lips. The kiss is soft and lingering. The disgruntled cry from her chest causes us both to smile and me to pull away.

  “Hey there, little man, I’m glad you’re finally here.”

  I carefully cradle him in my arms, marveling at how tiny he is and how much fuller my heart feels already.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Parenting, Round Two

  Hanna

  LESS THAN TWENTY-four hours after his birth, we take Jacob Storm Masterson home.

  So much for nixing the weird names. But it seemed fitting that our son be named after the fact he came into this world in the middle of a snowstorm. In Seattle.

  We decide that it makes the most sense for me to continue living at Jake’s. He doesn’t want to miss out on any part of being a parent and neither do I. Apart from the first few weeks with Ryan, I never had the chance to breastfeed, and this time I want to do it all if I can.

  Co-parenting is a completely different experience. And Jake is a fully immersed dad. While we have the nursery set up, I move the bassinet into the bedroom so JJ can be close for the first little while. I’ve offered to sleep in the spare room, so Jake can get a solid night’s rest, but he wants me next to him at night. And I want to be there.

  I’m currently sitting on the couch, burping JJ post-feeding. He lets out a belch, and at the same time, another, less delicate sound comes out the back end. Jake, who’s busy searching for lost socks under the lounger, turns my way, one eyebrow arched.

  “Sounds like someone needs a diaper change.”

  “And possibly a bath.” I move the breastfeeding pillow aside and pull myself up off the couch.

  “I can help,” Jake offers.

  “I’ve got it. Carry on with the sock finding mission.” On the upside, all of Jake’s socks are black, grey, or striped, so if one happens to go missing, it’s not a big deal.