“Dylan and my father are doing that,” he says. “I’m not leaving your side.”
I step into the shower and rush to get out. When I wrap myself in the towel and rub down my legs, I notice blood. I don’t want to say anything, but Michael notices also. His tone is tight and tense. “I’m giving you five seconds and then I’m carrying you out of here naked.” I don’t argue with him because even I’m starting to worry. Slipping my panties and the dress on, I walk out but then stop midway when another contraction starts. “She’s doing it again,” Dylan says from the hallway. He runs his hands through his hair. “We really should get a police escort.” He looks at Max. “We can name-drop.”
“She’s not the president of the United States,” Alex says, and I look up and see her dressed also. “Let’s just get her in the car.”
We get outside, and they get me into the car. I look over at Julia, who is wiping tears away. “Call Mom,” I say.
“I’ve already sent someone to pick her up,” Max tells me. “She is going to meet us at the hospital.” I look up at him, and tears run down my face. “Now, let’s get me a grandbaby, shall we?”
“Yes,” I agree and get into the back seat with Michael next to me. While Allison and Max drive us to the hospital, I have two more contractions. Max pulls up to the front of the hospital.
My mother is there waiting for me with a wheelchair. Nervousness is running through her when she sees me. “Hi, baby,” she says softly when I sit in the wheelchair. “Are you okay?”
“I’m ready to have a baby,” I say, and she holds my hand as Michael pushes me into the hospital. “Where is your mom?” I look at Michael, who looks behind him.
“She.” He hesitates. “She didn’t want to overstep, so she is going to wait with my dad,” he says, and I smile and look over at Allison, who is trying not to cry as she stands next to Max. His arm is over her shoulder.
“Allison,” I call out her name. “Get over here with us.” She looks up at Max with the biggest smile and lets him go.
“Are you sure?” she asks, standing next to Michael. “I don’t want to be in the way.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I assure her and then stop when I get another contraction. This time, I have to groan out my pain.
When we get into the delivery room, the nurse hands me a gown, and when I have to stop and bend over, she stops talking. “We are going to page the doctor and see how far along she is.” She looks over at me. “When did the contractions start?”
“I’ve had back pain for the last two days,” I admit and look over at Michael, who just glares. “But it wasn’t like a stabbing pain.”
“We’ll get the doctor in,” she says and walks out of the room.
“Michael Horton,” Allison says, putting her hands on her hips. “You change that face right now.”
“She was in pain,” he counters, and I get on the bed with my mother, putting on my hospital gown.
“You chose a lively one.” She smiles at me as she holds my face. “He loves you fiercely.”
“He better,” I say, looking down at my ring he gave me seven weeks ago. “Look at what he did to me?” I point at my stomach that is so low I’m surprised I was able to walk. “And look at his fat head.”
My mother laughs. “He doesn’t have a fat head.” She gets me into bed and looks down to see that my legs are tinted with blood.
“She’s bleeding,” she says out loud, shocked, and I look over at Michael who at this point looks like he’s shaking with nerves.
“I think it’s my mucus plug,” I explain and then look over at Allison who looks like she is going to set off like her son. She walks over to my bed and presses the red button, not stopping until someone comes on the intercom.
“She’s bleeding,” Allison says and the nurse is unaffected by this, telling us she will get our nurse. “We should have had a private nurse and doctor come in just for you.” I look over at my mother who nods.
“It’ll be fine,” I try to say, but another pain comes, and I have to yell. I moan through the pain. “That one felt like someone took a knife and stabbed me right in the vagina,” I share between clenched teeth. “And then someone lit my crotch on fire.”
The doctor comes in with the nurse. “Good morning,” she says, looking at me and walking over to put her gloves on. “How are we doing?”