Page 123 of Possessive Mafia Vows

At this rate, she isn’t going to ride it out for the next four hours.

I have too much to do to waste time soaking in the tub.

Climbing back out, water puddling around my feet, I wrap the towel around me and wander back into the bedroom. I need to let Kyle know. He can’t miss the birth. He’ll be devastated if he doesn’t make it home in time.

My fingers tremble when I unlock my phone and hit the green button on Kyle’s number. The call goes straight through to voicemail. He’s several thousand feet above the ground, of course he is. Even if I leave a message, there’s nothing he can do that will get him back to Ireland sooner.

The next contraction leaves me feeling dazed and sore.

I can’t think straight. I can’t remember the procedure for being admitted into the hospital. But I need to get dressed, get my overnight bag ready, and clear up the mess in the bathroom from where my waters burst.

One thing at a time. I don’t have the bandwidth to think beyond pulling on some clean clothes. Not with the image flashing in and out of my mind like a beacon of Kyle working on his tablet, mid-flight, oblivious to our baby’s imminent arrival.

Dressed, I ride out the next contraction on my knees, leaning over the side of the bed, balling up the sheet in my fists. The instant it passes, I mop up the bathroom floor, empty the bathtub, and stuff toiletries, clothes, and underwear into an overnight bag.

Another contraction.

They’re getting stronger. I’ve stopped timing them, and I remember that it’s the first question the midwife will ask when I call the hospital:how far apart are they?

In the kitchen, I grab the notepad that I usually use to make grocery lists and note the time. I barely have a moment to remember where I left my phone before the next one rips through me.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Kyle isn’t going to make it.

I’m overwhelmed, not with fear that I’m doing this alone, but with sadness for my husband. I can’t even begin to imagine his disappointment when his flight touches down, and he realizes that he’s too late. It’s the kind of missed moment that stays with a person forever. I only hope that one day, he’ll look back on this and be able to laugh about the terrible timing.

I call Emily next. With the growing certainty that the birth is happening today, right now, and that there isn’t a chance in hell of slowing it down, I’ve achieved a clarity that I’ve been missing for longer than I can remember.

Emily doesn’t pick up. She’s in Ireland for the summer but has been staying at Eoghan’s family home for the past few nights. I don’t leave a message.

Without considering the time difference, I try Victoria next. She answers while I’m in the throes of another contraction.

“Si? Sienna?”

I suck in a deep breath and exhale noisily.

“What’s going… Fuck! Are you in labor? You’re not due for another month.” She must cover her phone with her hand; I can hear her muffled voice speaking to someone else. Then, “Sienna, is Kyle with you?”

“No. He isn’t due back until this evening.” I’m shocked at how normal I sound between pains, almost as if they’re happening to someone else. “I just wanted to check that he made the flight.”

“He left earlier than scheduled, Si. Said there was something he had to do when he got back to Ireland.” She pauses. “I thought he’d have been home by now.”

“What? What did he have to do?”

“I don’t know, Si.”

I put the phone down on the bed and focus on my breathing through the next pain.

“Is Emily with you?” There’s no mistaking the panic in Victoria’s voice now.

“No.”

“Where the fuck is she? Have you called the hospital? Or what about the security team? They’ll take you, Sienna.”

“The security team?” I’m only half-invested in the conversation now.

Where is Kyle? What was so important that he didn’t even tell me he was flying back earlier than planned?

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