The Doctor's Pregnancy Bombshell

“Melissa?”

Her wild-eyed gaze met his briefly before her eyes closed in a painful grimace.

“You’re having contractions, aren’t you?”

“My back hurts. Bad,” Melissa squeaked, placing her hand over her tight belly. “Yeah, I think I’m having contractions.”

His heart performed a contraction of its own, an intense one that caused every muscle in his body to compress sharply at what he knew was taking place.

Air was trapped in his lungs. He was a doctor, had seen babies delivered before, had even delivered during a rotation. But this was Melissa. In labor with his baby. Right this minute.

Cailee’s face swam before his eyes. Memories of walking to her crib, finding her lifeless body, his mother’s heartache, his father’s bouts of depression, the fights that had followed Cailee’s funeral, the guilt that he’d not been able to save her—all these things and more prostrated him.

“James?” she said, when he remained frozen.

Snapping out of his trance, he met her gaze. “We’ll call Dr McGowan, have him meet us at the hospital. It’ll be all right,” he offered, hoping to ease the tension flowing from her body, but more than anything to keep her from seeing the fear that coursed through his body.

“And you know this, how?” Melissa growled, not sounding at all like herself. “It isn’t your body being ripped in two.”

Wanna bet? But he didn’t say the words out loud. She didn’t look in the mood to debate the similarity of sensations they were experiencing.

“How far apart are your contractions?” James asked, kicking into doctor mode. “When did they start? Is the pain bad?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure, and yes,” she responded.

She looked scared. He had to do something. Somehow make this easier for her. He pried her hands from their death hold on the armrests and clasped them.

“Everything is going to be fine. Dr McGowan is an excellent obstetrician. The best.”

He’d meant his words to comfort her. Instead, her fingers bit into his. Her eyes widened with surprise, and then she glanced down in horror at the growing stain on her pants.

“James,” she gasped. “My waters have broken.”

No turning back now. They were going to be parents. Soon.

He looked at her, wishing he could still the tremble in the abused lip locked between her teeth.

“I’m going to get you a towel, call Dr McGowan, and then get your medical bag. While I’m doing that, I want you to time your contractions.”

“Quit talking slow to me. I’m having a baby, not losing my mind.” She winced, her body tightening. “I am losing my mind. James!” His name came out as a cry. A cry full of pain and longing. Full of need.

For him to slay her dragons.

“Melissa, if that’s another contraction, they’re really close.” He mentally calculated how much time had passed, his heart picking up rhythm with the realization that she was close to giving birth. Too close. “I should check you.”

She scowled. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m a doctor.”

“Not my doctor.”

“Fine.” Stubborn woman. He hurried to the bathroom and grabbed a stack of fluffy navy towels to place between her legs to soak up the leaking amniotic fluid.

He tossed the towels onto the footstool.

“I’m calling Dr McGowan.” Keeping his eyes on Melissa, James hit the programmed-in number on his cell phone and informed the obstetrician what was going on.

“How far dilated is she?” Dr McGowan asked.