Page 73 of Bad Boy Done Wrong
“Zach, honey, remember how you’ve been all about Zen?”
“Yeah, yeah, I wrote a book about it. I think I know Zen.” He glanced over to find her baring her teeth at him in a scary smile.
“Okay,” she said through those scary teeth. “Could you get some? Because you’re basically freaking out and I need you not to be.”
He squeezed her leg reassuringly and focused on the road. “Yes. Yes. Of course. As soon as we get to the hospital and I know you’re okay, then I’ll do that blessing meditation for both of us.”
“Just you.” She paused. “I’m a little focused on workingwiththe contraction, keeping myself relaxed.”
“Of course, of course. Perfectly reasonable. You’re doing great, sweetheart.”
“Thanks,” she said, sounding a little breathless. His own breath hitched in alarm. “Will you call my mom?”
He had to get her there safely and quickly. “Yes. Okay, names, names. What about Alfred? Great anthropologist.” They already knew they were having a boy.
“I was thinking something more like Samuel.”
“After who?”
“I just like it.”
“What about Tobias? Very famous anthropologist. Or Clifford, another wonderful anthropologist.”
“Samuel,” she gritted out.
He glanced over at her. Her knuckles were white, gripping her purse as she let out a long breath. “Are you having a contraction right now?”
She didn’t answer. He floored it, breaking the speed limit. They were still about five minutes away. Why didn’t Carrie tell him earlier?
“Stay with me, Carrie. Don’t push or anything. You with me?”
“Where would I go?” she asked in a strained voice.
Oh, God. Hang on, hang on.
He worked on distracting her. Plus they really needed a name. “How about Franz? Or Louis? All respectable anthropologists. I could tell you about each of them to help us narrow it down. Franz Boas was—”
“Samuel,” she said with a note of finality.
“Samuel,” he echoed.
“Samuel Mark Harrison.”
“Mark after your dad. That’s nice.” He considered for a moment. “It sounds good.”
“It does.”
“Why did it take us so long to agree on a name?” he asked.
“I had it picked out from the begin—” She moaned long and low and his heart rate skyrocketed.
“Hang on! Just hang on. We’re almost there.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was not prepared to deliver this baby in the car all by himself just minutes from their destination. His Zen deserted him and he drove like a maniac the rest of the way, roaring into the parking lot and pulling right up to the emergency room door. He hustled her inside.
“Honey, this isn’t where they said to go,” she said.
He ran and got a wheelchair and pushed her to reception. When he parked her there, Carrie gestured him closer. He leaned down and she grabbed him by the hair, pulling him down to speak directly in his ear. “You have one minute to get your fucking Zen back or so help me Iwillkick your ass.”
