Page 136 of Wicked Love

“I promise we’ll make sure you’re there as soon as he gets here, okay?” Bowie tells her.

“Don’t worry, one of us will make sure you get there quickly,” Sadie says.

“I want to see him,” Becca says excitedly.

I hug her. “Me too.”

Bowie hugs her next and then the guys, and we’re led toward the exit.

“I wish we were married already too,” Bowie blurts out suddenly.

Henley pats him on the shoulder, grinning.

“Me too,” I tell him, smiling.

There’s no time to delve deeper into the sentiment than that because I feel an urgency to get to the hospital, but knowing he’s thinking this way settles into my heart like a warm promise.

Bowie tries to exit out the wrong door.

“Bowie, other way, buddy!” Weston calls after him.

Everyone chuckles softly, but I can see the concern on their faces too.

“You’ll be okay getting there?” Rhodes asks.

“Yes,” Bowie says.

But then we get in the car and my normally stoic man stammers, talking nonsense about traffic routes and shortcuts that don’t exist…and I wonder if we should’ve had someone else drive.

“We’ll take the highway—no, wait, the side street mightbe faster…I mean, I’ll just fly the car. Uh, no, not what I meant.”

I place a hand on his arm and give him a reassuring squeeze. “I’m okay,” I tell him softly. “I’m scared, but we’ll be okay.”

“Yes.” He nods and takes a deep breath. “I love you, Poppy.”

“I love you.”

The words seem to steady him, but it’s a miracle that we end up at the hospital. We arrive, shaky but ready. For all the preparing I’ve done, I wasn’t ready to have a babytonight, but I’m not complaining.

I’m wheeled back and the wait isn’t too long before they come back to check my progress.

“We’ve put in a call to Dr. Talbot, just letting her know you’re here, and after we find out whether you’re in labor or not, we’ll update her.”

“Okay,” I say.

A few minutes later, they announce that I’m dilated to a two and that I’m staying overnight. It’s a little bit of a wait before I’m moved to my room and Bowie updates my family and everyone on our group text.

The hospital room is quiet compared to the steady hum in the hallway. I’m propped up against floppy white pillows and hooked up to a machine monitoring all the things, a band around my stomach to monitor contractions, which have picked up. Bowie hasn’t left my side. He has our delivery playlist going, hospital ice within close reach, and is holding my hand, looking slightly panicked.

“Are you hurting?” he asks.

“I’m okay. It hasn’t been too bad yet. Mostly just like bad cramps, although that last contraction wasn’t great.” I wrinkle my nose.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to hurt. That’s the worst part of this.”

“I’ll be all right…I think. The unknown is the scariest.”

“You’re—”

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