Page 162 of Dirty Like Dylan

I saw the smile spread across Katie’s face, over Jessa’s shoulder. There were tears in her eyes when she said, “I can’t wait,” but she whisked them away before she pulled away, before Jessa could see them.

Then the girls rallied out the door in a flurry of hugs and whispers of I love you and Call me.

“Call me,” Katie made me promise as she left. “Jessa won’t ask for help.”

“I will.”

“Like if Maggie needs a break, or if contractions start before Maggie gets here—”

“Believe me,” I assured her, “I’ll call you,” horrified at the thought: me, struggling to figure out what the hell to do if a baby started coming out of Jessa.

I closed up after the girls and when I turned back to Jessa, she held her phone out to me. “Could you try Maggie again? I haven’t been able to reach her yet.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Thanks.” She grimaced. “I have to go take care of some more water breakage…”

I wrinkled my nose a little, though I tried not to.

Yeah. I’d make a terrible midwife.

Jessa headed upstairs. I found Maggie’s contact open on the screen and called her, but she didn’t answer. I left a voicemail, striving to sound urgent-but-calm, then started unpacking my camera and getting it ready, popping the backup battery on the charger, making sure I had a fresh memory card in—just in case there were any sudden photo ops. I wasn’t sure what to expect, how quickly things would progress.

Or wouldn’t.

After a few minutes, I wandered upstairs and in through the open door of the master bedroom. Jessa was nowhere to be seen, but the door to the en suite bathroom was closed.

I rapped a knuckle softly on the door. “You okay in there?” I called gently, not wanting to startle the baby right out of her.

“I’m good,” she said, sounding faraway and pretty tired. “Did you reach Maggie?”

“No, but I left her a message, and I’ll keep trying. I’m sure she’ll call back soon.”

“Okay. Can you call Zane?”

“Zane?” I repeated, unsure if I’d heard her correctly.

“Zane Traynor. He’s in my contacts.”

“Um. Zane’s your backup Brody-fill-in?” What about Katie?

“Zane??” Jessa sounded mildly horrified. “God, no. But he might know where Maggie is.”

“Oh. Okay…”

I dutifully searched her contacts for Zane’s number, though I was curious… It was close to midnight. Why would Dirty’s cocky lead singer, of all people, know where Maggie was?

Unless…

Oh. My.

I took a breath and dialed his number. I barely knew the guy, and I felt kinda like a stalker calling his personal phone number in the middle of the night, even though Jessa asked me to.

“Jessa?” he answered after a few rings, sounding kinda sleepy but not exactly like I’d woken him up.

“Um, no. It’s Amber.” I introduced myself, awkwardly, not exactly expecting him to remember me, considering how many women he’d probably met in his life. I started to describe myself as Dylan’s friend, the photographer, but that was so incredibly lame, I went with Liv Malone’s sister instead—rather than the more straightforward and no doubt memorable The girl who got wasted at your birthday party and went home with two of your friends.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Where’s Jessa?”

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