Once we were able, Joe and I gave statements to the police. It was nearly dark when Joe—who’d declined his sedative at the hospital—drove us home in Melanie’s car. I was relegated to the back seat, but the Tesla Model X had more than enough room for my long legs.
Both of us still had swollen and bloodshot eyes, but our vision had cleared and was nearly back to normal. Normal enough for Joe to feel comfortable drivi
ng, anyway.
“Oh!” Melanie said suddenly.
“What? What’s wrong?” Joe said frantically.
“It’s nothing. A Braxton-Hicks contraction. They come on suddenly and happen more frequently during stressful times.”
“I’m sorry, babe,” Joe said. “I’ve added a load of stress to your life.”
“None of this is your fault.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “Or yours, before you say it is.”
I nodded. Melanie was a good woman. She, Jade, and Ruby had married into a mess of problems—problems they’d all thought were over.
Until Joe and I had remembered Justin Valente.
This couldn’t be easy on Melanie and Jade especially, both being pregnant.
“This is a big one,” Melanie said.
“Does it hurt?” Joe asked.
“No. It’s not pleasant, but it’s not crampy or anything. My whole belly just gets really hard.”
“And you’re sure it’s normal?”
“That’s what the doctor says. Plus, remember I’m also a doctor.”
Joe nodded, his eyes still on the road. “I know, baby. But I worry about you, okay?”
“Trust me. These are noth— Oh!”
Joe swerved but quickly corrected it. “What? What is it?”
“I— I think my water just broke.”
“Turn around,” I said. “Get her to the hospital.”
“That’s ridiculous. We’re almost home,” Melanie said. “You can drop Bryce off. We need to be thinking of Marjorie and your mother.”
“Right now I’m thinking of my wife. If your water broke, that means…”
“Yeah,” Melanie said. “It means this baby is coming. But we have twenty-four hours before we have to worry about infection.”
“Infection?” Joe said. “What about the fact that your due date isn’t until— Shit!” He swerved to avoid a truck.
Fuck! Was it too soon? I didn’t want to be the one to ask that question.
“Thirty-two weeks,” Joe was saying, more to himself than to Melanie or me. “The baby will be okay. The baby has to be okay.”
“Just stop and let me out,” I said. “I can walk the mile to the guesthouse.”
“That’s silly,” Melanie said. “We can take you home.”
The few minutes to get home seemed like hours to me, so I could only imagine what it was like for Joe.