Scoring the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 3)

“Because Cassie is in labor! She’s going to have the baby! Can you believe it?”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “Oh, shit…really?”

“REALLY!”

I yanked the phone away from my ear, but it was too late. My eardrum felt like someone had used it as a kick-drum.

“Meet us at the hospital!”

“Seriously, stop shouting,” I called toward the receiver, still keeping the phone a safe distance away from my ear.

“I can’t help it! I’m too excited!”

I laughed at that. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be there.” I looked at the time on the screen and put it back within hearing distance of my ear. “Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll be there.”

“Get here sooner!” she protested. “Cassie is having a baby!”

“It’s her first baby, Georgia. Trust me, it’s not just going to fall out.”

No matter how much Cassie might want it to.

“HOLY MOTHERFUCKER FUCKING FUCK, YOU GUYS! FUCK THIS SHIT! I HATE EVERYTHING!” Cassie shouted through her last contraction.

“Honey,” Thatch said with a grin. He stood right at her bedside, holding her hand and occasionally putting cool washcloths on her forehead and neck. “I thought we were trying not to cuss around the baby.”

Cassie’s face morphed into something I had only witnessed in horror movies. Any second, I thought her head would probably do a complete three-sixty and return with a mouthful of green vomit in her husband’s face.

She gripped his hand with all of her might, and it was obvious by the grimace on Thatch’s face that this pregnant chick had some serious strength with her hands. It was like she had been using Shake Weights religiously or something… Yeah, let’s not go any further with that thought process.

Shake Weights and Thatch and Cassie? Yeah, definitely do not go there…

The redness in Cassie’s face went down, and she took a few deep breaths as the contraction slowly disappeared. “I don’t give a fucking fucking fuck fuck about cussing right now, Thatcher. Our baby should understand that he is literally crawling out of my body. A human being is going to come out of my body. So fuck anyone in this room who gets offended by the words that will be accompanying our baby’s big debut and, sadly, destruction of my pussy.”

“Jesus, Cass,” Georgia chimed in. She stood off to the side near the big window overlooking the city with a stopwatch in hand and her pencil and paper resting on the windowsill.

She looked ready for the big game, but the game had been rained out.

Georgia was secretly trying to take on the role of doula, but Thatch was kind of doula-blocking her at the moment.

“What?” Cassie snapped, and her face turned to a grimace, indicating that another contraction was about to briefly ruin her life.

“Could you not say p-u-s-s-y? I mean, you’re getting ready to deliver our beautiful baby boy into the world. Don’t you think maybe you should avoid the use of foul language, especially of the p-u-s-s-y variety?”

“Do you think I care? Do you think I fucking care?” Cassie shouted through a contraction. “IF I WANT TO SCREAM THE WORD PUSSY WHILE I BRING THIS BABY INTO THE WORLD, I WILL!”

Thatch glanced at me, and we both held back the urge to laugh.

All the while, Cassie and Georgia were having a complete standoff, eye to eye, stubbornness fueling the whole thing.

“Knock knock,” the nurse said as she walked into the room. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” she asked as she moved toward Cassie and applied a blood pressure cuff to her arm.

“Like a baby is trying to crawl out of my pussy.”

Georgia scoffed, and Thatch nearly fell over he guffawed so hard.

Cassie in labor was about the funniest thing I had seen in ages. And tonight of all nights, I desperately needed the pick-me-up.

Thatch and I grinned at one another, while Georgia and Cassie continued to flip each other the bird and toss nasty glares in each other’s direction.

“Well, I’m Misty, and I’ll be your nurse today,” the pretty young nurse introduced herself as she proceeded to get Cassie’s vitals. “Has anyone checked you yet?”

“Checked me?”

“To see how far dilated you are?”

Cassie gripped the side rails of the bed as another contraction started to peak.

“How long has she been having contractions this intense?”

Thatch’s brow furrowed. “I’d say for about the past few hours.”

The nurse checked the strip of paper printing from the monitor that tracked the baby’s heart rhythm and uterine contractions. “Hmm,” she muttered to herself.

“What was she dilated at her last doctor’s appointment?”

“Not quite two centimeters,” Georgia answered before anyone else could.

See what I mean? Self-appointed doula.

“And when was that?” Misty asked with a tilt of her head.

“Wednesday,” Thatch answered. “So, a few days ago.”

Cassie continued to keep her eyes closed as she breathed through another contraction. Once it had released its hold on her, she set her focus on the nurse. “I need all of the fucking pain medicine you can give me. I can’t fucking do this. This is awful. Just call the pharmacy, and tell them to send everything up here. I want five epidurals.”

Misty smiled, and a quiet laugh escaped her lungs. “Let me just check to see how far you’ve progressed, and then I’ll contact anesthesia for an epidural. Do you want anyone to leave the room?”

“Nope,” Cassie said and immediately pulled up her gown and spread her legs as wide as they would go.

“Jesus, Cass,” Georgia said and covered her eyes.

I turned my head toward the window and fought the urge to burst out laughing. I couldn’t blame her, though. I mean, I might not have been as open to visitors seeing my bag of goods, but it was true that all modesty flew straight out the fucking window when you were in labor.

“It’s called a pussy,” Cass said.

“Hell, you’re crazy, Crazy,” Thatch added with adoration in his voice.

From my periphery, I noted that the nurse sat on the edge of the bed beside Cass and proceeded to put a glove on. “This might be a little uncomfortable, okay? Especially since this is your first baby. A lot of times your cervix is very posterior and hard to reach.”

“No worries. I’m sure it’s nothing compared to these fucking contrac—” Cassie started to explain, but yet again, another contraction started to peak, and all she could do was hold on to the side rails of the bed and breathe through it.

Jesus, her contractions are really close together.

“Oh, God!” she cried. “I think I just peed!”

“No, sweetheart, you didn’t pee,” Misty reassured. “Your water just broke.”

Cassie groaned. “Well, that’s fantastic. And fucking gross.”

“Are you having the urge to push?”

“I have the urge to poop, but that’s about it.” Blatant honesty laced with ridiculousness. That’s pretty much how the rest of this labor and delivery were going to go, I was sure of it.

“Yeah, sweetheart, that’s actually the urge to push that you’re feeling right now.” Misty glanced at Thatch. “Can you push the nurse call button for me?” she asked in a neutral tone.

Confusion and concern etched his normally relaxed face, but he did as she asked and tapped the nurse call button.

Uh oh…this did not sound good for Cassie…

“Can I help you?” a female voice said over the speaker.

“Hey, Mary Lou, I need a delivery table set up in Room 14 stat. And can you go ahead and call Dr. Sabin and tell him we’re going to be ready for delivery soon? I’d like him close by.”

“Huh?” Cassie asked. “Delivery soon?” She sat up on the bed, and her eyes went wide in shock. “What do you mean?” She looked at Thatch. “What does she mean?”

“Cassie, you’re fully dilated, and your little baby is already at a very low station.”

She scrunched up her face in confusion. “Low station? Like FM radio? I don’t need music right now. I need an epidural.”

“No,” Misty said with a grin. “Low station as in the baby’s fetal descent station. You’re already at a +2 station, sweetheart. And I could tell with your contractions, that the baby is positioned perfectly for delivery. And you probably didn’t realize this, but you were already pushing a little bit with your contractions.”

Cassie glanced around the room frantically. And then her eyes went back to Misty.

“Okay…okay…so just get me an epidural, and then it’s go time.”

She looked at Thatch again, her eyes turning scared and helpless. “Right? Epidural first and then we can have this baby?”

“Cassie, I don’t think we have time for an epidural,” Misty explained softly.

“You don’t think!” Cass shouted. “What do you mean, you don’t think!”

“I know, actually,” she answered and got up from the bed and proceeded to get the room ready for delivery. Another staff member wheeled in the table and began to set up the sterile instruments.

“No-no-no-no-no,” Cassie chanted. “Nope. I’m not doing it. Not without an ep—”