The Ex (The Boss 4)

“Well, keep trying her. If she’s going to miss it, we can Skype her. It was my mom’s idea,” I added as an afterthought.

“Smart of her.” Neil sounded too impressed, but I didn’t comment on it. Now was not the time for a fight. I sent him back to the waiting room to continue Valerie Watch 2015. I was almost more excited for her to arrive than for the baby.

Every single second that Emma spent transitioning or whatever it was, my heart was in my throat. She groaned like a moribund cow—a comparison I would never, ever share with her—and writhed in the bed like she was filming the cold turkey detox scene from Trainspotting. I made a mental resolution that no one in our family was allowed to go to the hospital for any reason for the next several years, because I couldn’t take this annually.

Michael was seated beside the bed, holding her hand and stroking her arm, until she pulled it away with a moan.

“Should we be distracting her?” I asked the nurse.

In a soft voice, she responded, “Probably not. This is a stage where most women like to concentrate, to keep the pain from getting away from them.”

To keep it from getting away from them? What the fuck did that mean? There Emma was, groaning, half-conscious, her stomach heaving and jerking with every contraction. This was supposed to be normal? And when the nurse “checked” her, it seemed like it would be a pretty big distraction; having some stranger’s fingers prodding my cervix would have sure distracted me.

Even though this was what Emma wanted more than anything in the world, I wished she wasn’t doing it. There should be some way that babies could emerge painlessly from the womb, a zipper or something where they could just take the kid out.

It was really getting to Michael, too. He looked absolutely miserable, about two seconds away from tears.

“Hey,” I whispered to him. “Why don’t you go use the bathroom or whatever, stretch your legs.”

He winced as he rose; his legs must have fallen asleep. “Yeah, probably a good idea. I’ll update Mr. Elwood and call my parents.”

I leaned back in my chair and put my feet up. I hadn’t intended to doze, but Emma’s panicked shout jolted me awake before I’d even realized I’d fallen asleep.

“I need to push!”

“Don’t do that!” I shot back before my eyes fully focused. I was on my feet between heartbeats. “I have no skills at baby catching. Do not push. I’m going to go get a nurse.”

I’d planned on going calmly into the hallway and finding someone. It didn’t work out that way. My adrenaline pumped through my veins like I was trying to lift a car off an accident victim, and I shouted, “Somebody get in here, she’s ready to push, and I don’t know how to get a baby out!”

“Sophie! Lower your voice!” someone barked down the corridor.

I blinked, certain I was hallucinating. But it really was Valerie, striding down the hallway with her coat flapping like a super hero’s cape behind her. Throwing my arms out, I ran at her. We collided in a hug that was really one-sided, but I didn’t care. I was so relieved to see her.

“Perhaps you could let me go to my daughter?” She sidestepped me and breezed on toward the room. I leaned against the wall and sighed in relief. One of the nurses gave me a strange look as she passed. They probably didn’t care for people shouting for help in their ward.

I hurried out to the waiting room, where Michael was getting himself more coffee, and Neil was asleep with his head tilted back at what looked like a very uncomfortable angle.

“Guys?” I immediately had both of their attention, though Neil looked at me through bleary, unfocused eyes. “She’s ready to go.”

Michael threw his cup, coffee and all, in the trash and took off at a run.

“Shouldn’t you go with him?” Neil asked, his eyes flicking to the door.

“No, Valerie is here, thank god.” I dropped into the chair beside his.

For the first time all night, he looked something other than worried. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Well. That was an odd assortment of words, coming from you.”

I gave him a tired shove and slumped down to rest my head on his shoulder. The uncomfortable wooden arms of our parallel chairs dug into my side. I was too exhausted to readjust my position.

“Sophie?” Neil wiggled his arm, and I blinked. A puddle of drool stained the sleeve of his shirt, and I stared at it, wiping my lip on the back of my hand as I sat up. Had I done that?

Michael stood in the half-opened doorway, beaming, and I snapped instantly awake.

“What the fuck, how long was I out?” I muttered, noticing a second too late that while I’d been unconscious, another family, all of whom looked vaguely disapproving, had come in to share the space.

“About forty-five minutes.” Neil got up and offered me his hand. Once I was on my feet, he tugged me impatiently through the door. The giddy smile on his face was contagious, because I was giggling like an idiot as we approached Emma’s room.

“Five pounds, eight ounces,” Michael told us as he pushed the door open. “Seventeen inches. And bigger feet than we were expecting.”