Raji clung to the door handle as Peyton drove the car up the ramp far too fast. They blew past the reporters and photographers lurking outside her building.
Flashes brighter than the sun splayed across her vision, blinding her even through her sunglasses.
Filling out the paperwork and paying for a marriage license at the county clerk’s office took an hour. The clerk eyed Raji’s burgeoning belly the whole time, her eyes wide.
On the way back to Raji’s apartment, Peyton stopped the car by a jeweler and bought two thick, gold wedding rings to symbolize, he said, his under-delivery on every promise from there on out.
Raji laughed at him.
When they got back to the car, her body squeezed, and her stomach turned hard.
Raji told Peyton, “Must be stress contractions.”
“Is that a thing?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re the doctor.”
“You say that like you don’t believe it,” she said. Peyton pressed the button to start the engine and flipped the air conditioning on full blast. Blessed cool air washed over Raji’s face and arms.
Peyton said, “I’ve seen three women have babies in the last couple of years, and two of them were in the last few months. Elfie had her baby just last week. Tryp finally got a son and named him Neil.”
“Neil? A rock star named his baby Neil?”
“Pretty sure it was after Neil Peart, the drummer for Rush. You look like Georgie and Elfie did just before they went to the hospital. Maybe right before they went.”
“Which is? And you need to consider how you phrase this very carefully.”
“Glowing?” he ventured, his eyebrows raised. “Don’t hurt me.”
“So, sweaty. I’ve been dripping sweat for the last two months even though it’s supposedly winter here in Los Angeles. That’s nothing new.”
He sighed. “It’s the way you’re moving, the way you’re walking.”
“Waddling? Again, I’ve been doing that for months.” Her stomach clenched again, and she sucked air afterward.
“And there’s that other thing,” he said, “the contractions. You’re at about five minutes apart. I think we should progress calmly to the hospital.”
“But it’s not time yet. I just had a doctor’s appointment this morning, and they said I’m not effaced at all, less than ten percent. I shouldn’t go into labor for at least a week.” Panic lifted her chin and her voice. “I’ve got at least a week left.”
“I don’t think you have that long,” Peyton said.
A vise grabbed Raji around her stomach, and she panted through it.
When she looked up, Peyton reached over and took her hand. “Raji-lee, it’s time to go to the hospital.”Chapter Forty-SevenNew PlanRaji was calm, of course. She was a doctor and a surgeon at that, not to mention a cold-blooded lizard person.
Parturition at the end of pregnancy was just another biological process.
It was just a lot easier to keep calm about biological processes when they were happening to other people.
Raji’s guts knotted, twisting her with pain. She held her breath until it went away.
Peyton said, “We’re almost to the hospital.”
She gritted her teeth. “I know. I work there every day.”
Another contraction grabbed her. Raji groaned as she got through it.
When it was done, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“According to what I’ve seen, I’m the one who’s supposed to be apologizing about now.”
“You wanted to get married before we went to the hospital.”
“We’ll see what we can do, but the most important thing is that you’re all right, you and the baby.”
She leaned back in the passenger seat, breathing and trying not to think about the fact that another one of those contractions was coming in four minutes. “This must be a shock to you. One day you were a rock star on sabbatical, lying on the beach in Mallorca, and then next day you’re about to be a father and trying to find a priest to do a hurry-up, quickie wedding.”
“It’s not a shock. I thought about you every day, imagining what would have been happening to your body as our child grew, if you hadn’t taken care of it. I lived in a little dreamland for a few minutes every day, wondering what our lives would have been like if you’d said yes.”
“That’s kind of sweet.”
“Yes, it wasn’t creepy at all, looking back at it. Speaking of being a creepy creeper, you knew I was on Mallorca, huh?”
“Just happened to see those pictures of you suntanning at the hotel.”
“And the search terms you were using—”
Raji sighed. “Peyton Cabot Killer Valentine shirtless. You’d be surprised how many returns that gets. There are a lot of half-naked pictures of you out there.”
Peyton laughed. “People take pictures of the tattoos. There’s a pinterest board called ‘Peyton Cabot Tattoo Watch’ where they hunt to see if I’ve gotten any new ones.”
“You’ve been working out.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to go to the gym, what with being on sabbatical and all.”
Raji’s belly cramped again. She leaned forward, the seatbelt pulling back on her shoulder as Peyton whipped them through traffic.