by BJ Harvey
Ezra drops to the floor beside me. “Was that what I think it was?” he asks, his eyes wide and concerned.
I look between him and my father, grimacing with a small side of oops. “That was the worst one so far.”
Ezra’s mouth drops open. “What?”
I continue breathing through the pain, hoping it’s just another false alarm. “I… they… I’ve been… having them… all day…” I pant out.
“We should get her to the hospital,” Keith says, sounding worried.
I shake my head jerkily. “No. Not yet. Dr. Cameron said at my last checkup that contractions would have to last at least a minute or longer to warrant going to the hospital. It’s probably… nothing,” I say, letting out a huge breath.
As soon as the contraction passes, I drop back against the couch cushions and wait for my heart rate to slow down.
“I think I need to walk around. Getting vertical might help, you know, with gravity and all. He’s probably just in a weird position. That’s all,” I say. Ezra stands and holds his arm out to me, my father mirroring his position on the other side. Together, they both help me to my feet.
I meet my father’s worried gaze. “Thank you for coming here and for what you’ve said. I’d like time to think about it, and you need to speak with Ronnie as I can’t speak for her, but I can see you’re different. I’m not sure how—you’re just more… you.”
He lets out a sigh of relief, and the tension leaches out of him. “Thank you, Gilly. I’m in this for the long haul. I want to be in my daughters’ lives, and I’m willing to do whatever I have to in order to be the father you need me to be and to make up for not being the man I should’ve been in the past.”
Tears fall down my face again, and for the first time in God knows how long, I turn to my father and wrap my arms around his shoulders and give him a hug, my whimpers turning into sobs when he tightens his hold around my back.
“I love you, Gilly. Always have and always will.”
I sniffle and pull back, meeting his own wet eyes, trying not to react to the fact that the stoic, tough-as-brass Keith Nelson, who has left even the strongest man shaking in his boots in the courtroom, is fighting back tears in my living room.
The baby kicks against his stomach, and his eyes widen, jerking down to my bump. “Was that…?”
“Yep. That was a—” I stop mid-sentence as the baby kicks my cervix, followed by what feels like a bubble popping inside me, then a torrent of something that I really hope isn’t pee streaming down my leg.
I look to Ezra, who’s looking straight back at me before both of us look down at my wet pants.
Ezra moves to my side. “Was that what I think it was?” he asks.
Whereas there are only two words going through my mind.
“Oh shit.”
23
Gilly
My father jumps back, his eyes bugging out of his head.
I look at him, and I can’t help the giggle of absolute disbelief that escapes my lips. “Looks like maybe I was having contractions…” I say, not sounding too sure.
The two men on either side of me stare at each other as if at a loss as what to do.
Then it’s as if Ezra’s synapses start working again, and he jumps into action. “We need to call the hospital, and Dr. Cameron’s office, or maybe Cade could come, or Co and Skye…” He pauses for a second, and just when I think he’s stopped his freak out, he continues. “Or April, yes—she’s a nurse too.” He tilts his head and looks at me. “How do we have so many friends and family members who work in healthcare? That seems kind of strange, right?”
I can’t help it—I bite my lip trying not to laugh, but a snort escapes my mouth anyway.
“Who do you need me to call, Ezra?” Keith asks. “It’s been a while, but I remember when Gilly arrived, and we had to wait for a while before taking Sheila into the birthing unit.”
“Um… I want to get out of these pants for starters. It’s kind of gross,” I say with a wince.
“Yes, absolutely,” Ezra says, wrapping an arm around my waist and moving toward the doorway. “Shit, can you do the stairs?”
I think about it for a moment. “As long as I don’t have another contraction. Maybe,” I say, hedging my bets. “If I do, you better be ready to catch me, baby daddy, for this will be the last time I ever let myself get into this position again.”
Ezra’s lips twitch, and my father looks proud at my outburst.
“Is there anything I can do before I go?” Keith asks. Talk about one extreme to the other.
I turn back to my dad. “I know this can’t have been easy, and I appreciate you coming over, but I think we’re okay.”
Ezra holds out his hand to Keith, who shakes it. “I’ll text you with updates whenever I can if you’d like.”
My father nods. “Thank you,” he says, letting go of Ezra’s hand and taking two steps towards me. He cups my cheek and dips his head to stare me straight in the eyes. “You take care of yourself and your son, and I’ll come see you whenever you’re ready. I love you—don’t ever forget that, Gilly.”
“Okay, but if you keep saying things like that, I’m going to cry again.”
“She does that a lot,” Ezra muses.
“I bet,” Dad replies with a smirk. He straightens and looks to Ezra then me. “I’ll shut the door on my way out. Good luck, you two.”
We both watch as he walks past us and down the corridor toward the front door.
When the lock flicks closed, I look up at Ez. “Did that really just happen?” I whisper.
“You mean your waters breaking all over your father’s expensive shoes after he told you he’s leaving your mother and apologized for being an asshole? Yep. Pretty sure I just witnessed that miracle firsthand.”
“Holy cow.”
“You got that right,” he says with a grin. “Now, let’s get you upstairs and cleaned up, then call Dr. Cameron and see what to do.”
“Okay,” I say with a big sigh. “Let’s move now just in case I get another contraction.”
“Yep. And as we do, you can tell me exactly how long you’ve been having these contractions and why you didn’t tell me,” he says, his voice soft but unyielding.
“Yeah, about that…” I say. We’re halfway up the stairs when we have to stop again, my grunt of exertion turning into a groan as a new contraction builds and goes from three to ten on the pain scale in a matter of seconds. Ezra’s eyes flash with caution before he morphs into a superhero in front of my eyes, pulling me in closer and helping to hold me up as the pain threatens to buckle my knees. Grasping my hand, he mimics my pants, his eyes flicking between my face and his wristwatch.
When it passes, I’m already wrung out, and the thought of hours and hours of this is exhausting enough, let alone the fact that I’m tired already.
“Okay, baby mama. Upstairs and on the bed. We’ll get you changed and get the hospital and baby bags by the door, ready to go.”
“Glad you’re here,” I mumble stupidly, leaning into his shoulder as we reach the top of the stairs and walk toward our master suite.
“Get used to it. I’m not going anywhere, ever.”
“Better not.”
Once Ezra has helped me strip my clothes off—because there’s no way I can do it solo in my current state—he leaves me sitting on the bench in our shower while he quickly runs downstairs to get his phone before thankfully joining me just in time for the next contraction. The hot water sluicing down my back is heaven as I breathe through the pain.
Once it’s over, Ezra dries me off and helps me onto the bed. “Stay here while I quickly get dressed to leave,” he says, leaning over to kiss my head.
“They’re getting closer,” I say, mindlessly, knowing full well we haven’t seen anything yet.
“Yeah. I’m activating the birth tree now.”
“The what?”
He shoots me a coy grin. “It goes like this. I call Ronnie, and she calls Mom and Dad, then from there
, they call everyone else. Hence, the birth tree.”
My eyes go wide as saucers before I burst out laughing, rolling onto my side on the bed and burying my face in the pillow.
“I didn’t think it was that weird.”
I turn back over toward him, wishing I was in any state or mood to appreciate his gorgeous nakedness. “It’s not weird. It’s funny and adorable, and I love you for it.”
He looks disgruntled, but when I frame his face in my hands and pull him down so he’s all I can see, his expression melts.
“We’re going to meet our baby,” I whisper, smiling against his lips.
“Yeah.” Then he slowly, thoroughly kisses my lips and sucks the tension right out of me. He pulls back, and I draw a deep breath in, now recognizing the telltale sign of a forthcoming contraction. His brows knit together and he slides next to me in the bed, holding my hand and helping me through it, eyes still glued to his watch.
I sigh in relief and try to ignore the pressure between my legs by pressing my knees together and crossing my ankles. “By God, I hope you can get hold of the doctor ’cause I really don’t want to wait too long and end up having this baby on the freeway in the back seat of your car.”
He chuckles and pushes off the mattress and stands beside the bed. “I’ll make sure I break the speed limit, so that doesn’t happen.”
“Much appreciated,” I murmur, melting back into the mattress and closing my eyes, grimacing as another smaller gush come out between my legs. I thought waters broke once, not continue to flow like a goddamn geyser.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, all humor now gone.
“Let’s just say I’m glad we put that towel underneath my butt.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah,” I say, staring up at the ceiling and willing myself not to cry again. “Activate the birth birch or the phone tree or whatever you’re calling it. Something tells me our son is in a hurry.”
“On it, sweetheart,” he says, walking into the closet and emerging a minute later with jeans and a T-shirt, his hair swished back. I want to throttle him for looking so good when I know I’m no masterpiece right now, and for being able to get ready so fast. He’s texting like a madman, and the contractions are now only five minutes apart, and they’re lasting longer and hurting more.
There’s also that big bowling ball feeling right inside my pelvis which doesn’t seem right for someone still sitting up on their bed with their legs cocked and fingers gripping the comforter, and not a doctor or medical professional in sight.
Ezra is sitting behind me, his hips framing mine, one hand rubbing up and down my back and the other holding a phone to his ear.
“Yes, that was five minutes since the last and twice as long… Mm-hmm… yes. Right. Shit, okay then. Is it even okay to move her?… We’re upstairs in our bedroom… Ah okay… yes… okay… I’ll check.” Then he’s easing out from behind me and moving down the bed to kneel between my legs.
“Ah, Ez?” I whisper warily.
His eyes lock on mine. “I’ve got to check and make sure the baby isn’t coming already. It’s nothing to worry about, it’s just—”
“What?” I screech, my voice higher than I’ve ever heard it.
“Gilly,” Ez says, his hands cupping my knees, his voice warm and calm yet commanding and strong. I lock eyes with his. “Dr. Cameron wants me to check that our baby isn’t crowning. But he’s called an ambulance because we don’t want to risk moving you right now just in case.”
“No, no, no, no, no,” I cry. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“I know, baby, but we’re just going to roll with the punches and do whatever we need to do to welcome our son safely into the world and look after you too, okay?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, sounding like a petulant child, but really, I’m just annoyed that my body seems ready to shoot this baby out of me rather than slowly easing me into this whole birth malarkey.
“Okay, sweetheart. I just have to go wash my hands and then examine you with my fingers.”
“Well, it’s not like you haven’t done that before,” I blurt out, totally forgetting that Ezra is on the phone to our OB, and he likely just heard that. “Sorry Dr. Cameron!”
Ezra smirks down the phone, letting out a chuckle after a few mmm-hmms. “Okay, I’ll give the phone to Gilly for a second.” He hands the phone to me and quickly goes into the en suite.
“How are you feeling, Gilly?” Dr. Cameron asks.
“A bit sore, a bit stressed, a bit excited. Is that normal?”
“Absolutely. What about energy-wise? How are you doing?”
I huff out a sigh. “I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah. Right now, that’s my only concern. The EMTs will be there ASAP, and if need be, they’ll make a dash to the nearest hospital.”
“But that’s not the plan.”
“Babies have no idea that there are plans in place. They do what they want, when they want, and quite often, it’s not what they should be doing or when they should be doing it. Welcome to the joy of childbirth,” he says, his voice soothing even though his words are a little terrifying.
Ezra comes back into the room, looking a little peaky himself.
“And how’s the father-to-be doing?” Dr. Cameron asks.
I snort, locking eyes with the love of my life. “Better than me,” I reply with a weary smile.
“Alright. You can do this, Gilly. Honestly, keep your fluids up, let the paramedics take care of you, and if you’re worried, talk to them about it.”
“Thank you. Fingers crossed and all that.”
“I have absolutely no doubt, Gilly. Your uterus has been practicing for this for longer than most women’s.”
I giggle. “Is that some kind of OB humor?”
“Something like that,” he muses. “If Ezra is ready, can you give the phone back to him? I need to know what he’s feeling, okay?”
I do as asked and lie flat on my back, not wanting to witness Ezra fisting me to check how dilated—or not dilated—I might be when it’s so not sexy, and I really don’t want to lose my ability to see Ezra Baker in a sexy way. That would be a fate worse than death.
I wince a little when I feel Ezra following the OB’s instructions, biting my lip when I feel another wave of pressure closing in on me.
“Wait, we’ve got a contraction coming. Do I pull them out?… Yeah, that makes sense.” Ezra quickly removes his fingers from inside me and leans over my legs, reaching for one of my hands and lacing his fingers with mine. With our eyes locked together, we breathe through it. This time I’m quieter than with the previous ones as I’m more in the zone and focused on getting through it rather than the burning pain that radiates through my back from start to finish.
“Okay, we’re past that one. Just give me a moment… Yeah, I think I feel something. Okay… maybe… six… or eight… good. Okay, thank you, Doctor,” he says, followed by a chuckle. “I hope we see you soon too.”
Hope… HOPE?
“Ez…” I say, low and grumpy, as soon as he drops the phone onto the bed. I hope he forgives me later for anything I might say during labor. “What did he say?”
“Sweetheart, he’s called the ambulance, and we’ve got to stay put because he thinks you’ve actually been in labor for a while, and just didn’t think anything of it because of the Braxton Hicks. But you’re between six to eight centimeters dilated, and if we try and make a run for the hospital now, our son might just end up being born on I-95, and we already nixed that idea so—”
“Ah…” I say, yet another contraction hitting me like a Mack truck. This time it’s stronger, the pain reaching a long-drawn-out crescendo that has me crying in agony. A whimper escapes me when it’s finally over.
Ezra reaches out for the bottle of water beside me he thankfully had the forethought to grab from downstairs. He unscrews the lid and brings it to my lips, holding it there while I gulp back some much-needed liquid.
“It’s not supposed to ha
ppen like this. It’s too fast,” I say, taking in some deep breaths.
It’s only a short reprieve until another contraction hits.
Rinse and repeat. Ezra breathes through the pain with me, telling me—and probably regretting it—to squeeze his hands as much as I need to so I can get through the contraction.
“What’s the time?” I say, absolutely exhausted now, knowing it must have been hours since we moved to the bed.
“Nine nineteen.”
“What?” I ask, sitting bolt upright and almost knocking him out. “No way.”
“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re rather quick at this labor thing.”
“Shit. I had pains during the night, but they weren’t regular or anything. I probably should’ve told you.”
“Ya think?” he asks, but he does it with a smile. ‘We’re here now. We’ve just got to wait for the EMTs to arrive, and then you can push this baby out, and we can meet our boy.”
“I love you,” I whisper, willing my body to relax as my muscles start to tighten again. It jolts through me with no warning. This contraction is sharper, and there’s an urgency to it. I feel like I need to push or move or jump up and down until this baby drops out. I just need to do something.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I curse, earning a chuckle from Ezra. Then he grunts in pain because my pain might have inadvertently caused a spasm in my elbow, causing it to jab into my fiancé’s ribs.
I collapse back against Ezra’s front, my body limp and tired as he runs his hands up and down my arms and chest, lulling me into a false sense of safety because I know that next contraction might just be the end of me and my lady parts, or my relationship if I bite Ez’s head off again.
“Hello? Ez?” a familiar voice calls out.
“In here,” Ezra shouts before looking down at me at the same time as he tilts my chin up. “Skye is here, which means Cohen is here too.”
“My dignity is gone,” I mumble sleepily. “I don’t care who sees my bits as long as they don’t break them, and they end this damn pain.”