Page 62 of Fame And Secrets
“Calling Mom. She can catch a flight. She’ll know what to do.”
With a shriek that could only be described as a cross between a dolphin and a dying monkey, I knocked the phone out of his hand. “You’re not calling your mother. There’s no time.”
“I can’t do this, Phoebe.” He bent to pick up his phone and balanced on one knee with his forehead in his palm. “Please don’t have this baby in front of me. I can’t handle blood and—”
As another contraction hit, I grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his face upward. “I’m the only one allowed to panic here! Your job is to get me to the hospital. If you don’t, I’m going to fucking have this baby on your brother’s living room floor, and I swear to god I’ll strangle you with the umbilical cord!” A steady trickle of water dampened my legs again.
Slowly rising from his knees, he sighed. “Shit. All right.” He dangled the keys in front of my face. “Do, uh…do you want to drive?”
Screwing my eyes shut, my face contorted in pain. “No, I can’t drive. Just…get…the…car.”
Within ten minutes, we fought the freeway with horns blaring. Ryker weaved in and out of traffic like a newly christened driver, the whole time reassuring both of us that he, indeed, could do this and no, god did not hate him.
“Ry, slow down.” I tried to reassure us both. “I’m not going have the baby in the car.”
He raised both eyebrows. “You don’t know that. Do you know that? No, you don’t know that.”
“The first stages of labor can last hours,” I protested as I squeezed the dashboard.
“Yeah? Well, you also told me that babies come at nine months. Nine months, Pheebs. You’re not nine months. This wasn’t supposed to happen to me.”
My hands ricocheted off the dashboard. “To you? None of this is happening to you! Julian is in Seattle, and I’m in fucking labor. Do you understand what that means?” I waved my hands in the air like a madwoman. “I’m scared shitless! So, I’ll say it again…you’re not allowed to freak out! You have to be calm to calm me down; because if you’re not calm, then I’m not calm, and if I’m not calm—I’m really going to lose my shit, Ryker!”
“Phoebe, shut up!” Keeping his eyes glued to the road, he stared in horror at the car crawling in front of us. Laying on the horn, he let out a howl of frustration. “I can’t drive with you screaming at me like that. I’ll crash. If we die, who’s going deliver the baby, Phoebe? Huh? If we die, you’ll be doing it all by yourself.”
“Do you hear yourself? You’re not making sense!”
“Neither are you!” He laid on the horn again and stuck his head out of the car window. “Fast lane!” he shrieked. “This is the fast lane, dickhead! She’s having a baby.”
We aren’t going to make it.
Once more, Julian would miss a milestone. But this time, it’d be the birth of his child.
The rest of the ride to the hospital was silent except for my periodic gasps as the contractions hit. Ryker didn’t bother to park. He ran the car up on the curb, causing startled screams. I’d just unbuckled my seatbelt when he grabbed me by the elbows.
I slapped his arms. “Ry, stop it! I’m in labor, not unconscious.”
“How in the hell should I know?” He pulled at his hair again, causing the ends to stand straight up. “I’m winging it here.”
“That makes two of us. I have no clue what I’m doing either.” I stomped my foot like a five-year-old.
“Good!”
“Great!”
He slammed the car door. “Fine!”
“Shut up, Ryker.” I turned and made my way into the hospital, stopping only when a contraction doubled me over. As we approached registration, another pain hit, all but collapsing me onto the desk. Ryker reached out a hand to steady me. This time, I didn’t protest, and his hand didn’t move. I raised my head, and spoke weakly to the receptionist. “Hi, I’m in labor…I think.”
The receptionist eyed me with a robotic stare. “Name?”
“Phoebe Ryan”
“Have a seat, Mrs. Ryan. I’ll call you in a moment.” She returned her attention to her computer screen, but I refused to move.
“It’s Miss.” I’d promised Julian I’d keep our marriage a secret. “I’m not due until May twenty-eighth. I’m barely thirty-one weeks.” I knew modern medical advances gave our baby a fighting chance, but nine weeks early was too soon for birth. What had I done to cause this?
If our baby dies, it’s my fault.