Until Autumn

He doesn’t hesitate, and I focus on November, only the more I take in everything before me, the more my nerves seem to fly. “Why do you look like you’re about to shit your pants?” November asks me.

I meet her eyes, swallowing past the lump in my throat and ignoring the way my palms seem to sweat. “I’m going to be real with you,” I start. “Today is my first day in the midwifery training program and my first day at this hospital. I’ve never done this before, but I promise you, I won’t let you down.”

Her eyes go wide, and she glances up at her husband before looking back at me. “You’ve never done this?”

“Nope.”

Asher practically tosses my phone at me, and I instantly open my flashlight app and lean the phone against the wall, shining it right at November’s coochie. “You’ve had some kind of training, right?” Asher asks, the tone in his voice filled with concern. “You’ve read the textbooks and watched the training videos on this shit?”

I nod, biting down on my lip as I help November get her legs into position. “Maybe you should call Thorne,” November suggests to her husband. “I don’t know … maybe he can at least talk her through it.”

My eyes bug out of my head. “Thorne?” I question. “As in Dr. Thorne Mayson?”

“Yeah,” November grunts. “He’s Asher’s cousin and was scheduled to deliver this baby next Thursday, but apparently, that’s not going to happen.”

“Oh, okay. Ummm … yeah. That’s not a bad idea.”

Asher instantly starts searching through his phone, and within seconds, it’s on speakerphone, and I hear the call ringing through the small elevator. I try to calm myself. Dr. Thorne Mayson is the biggest name in obstetrics; he’s a total badass. Patients come to him from all over the country just to have him deliver their babies, and I’m about to have him talk me through an elevator floor delivery. This is not only the most terrifying thing I’ll ever do, but it’s also a dream come true.

He’s a beast in this world. He dominates every surgery he does and his work is outstanding. I wasn’t surprised when I first learned that he has the personality of an asshole—uptight and full of shit. Though, I guess when you’re Dr. Thorne Mayson, it doesn’t matter. A guy like that could get away with murder. He’s already on top, and with his skills, that’s exactly where he’ll stay.

The call answers just as November’s grip on her husband’s hand tightens, sending her knuckles a bright white and telling me that her contraction is coming. “Asher,” Dr. Mayson’s voice comes lazily through the phone. “What’s going on? Are you guys still down in the ER? The hospital is having issues with the back-up generator. They’re saying it could be another few minutes before we have power up and running.”

“We don’t have another few minutes,” Asher rushes out as November growls low and deep, a sound I wasn’t aware a woman could make. “We’re trapped in the elevator with one of your midwife students and November needs to push.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “Put me on speakerphone.”

“You are.”

“Right, who am I speaking with?” he says, instantly jumping into doctor mode like the professional that he is.

“My name is Autumn Mathers, sir,” I say, my voice coming in way too timid and immediately showing just how terrified I am. “Today’s my first day.”

There’s a silent curse that I can hardly make out before he takes a deep, frustrated breath. “Right, Autumn. Welcome to Nashville. It’s a pleasure to be working with you. Now, I’m going to be blunt with you. The baby you’re about to deliver is my family, my blood, which means that today just became the most important day of your career. When you are bringing babies into the world, there is no room for error. Is that understood?”

I swallow down the bile that threatens to rise in my throat. Just great. I’m experimenting on Dr. Thorne Mayson’s family. If I screw this up or even do a tiny thing wrong, I’m screwed. Hell, even if I give him a bad vibe, I could be done in this world. Who’s going to want to work with the chick who’s on Dr. Mayson’s shit list?

I let out a breath, hoping to all that’s holy above that I don't screw this up. “Yes. Sir. Understood.”

“Good. Now, is November lying down?”

“Yes.”

“How far apart are her contractions?”

I resist groaning. “Two and a half minutes.”

“How dilated is she?” he asks.

“Fully,” I rush out, frustrated with all of his questions despite not really knowing if this is fully dilated or not, but assuming the baby is right there, I think it’s safe to say that she is ready to go. I mean, I get it. I know he wants to make sure all the boxes are ticked, but there’s simply no time for this. “The baby is crowning, and if we wait any longer, it’s going to give birth to itself. I’ll be seeing its forehead soon,” I explain as November begins to groan and clench her eyes. “Now, I don’t mean to be insensitive or rude to your training, and I hope this doesn’t leave you with a bad impression but screw your goddamn questions. The contraction is here and she needs to push. Now.”