Page 113 of Together We Burn
“I’m not going to the hospital looking like I’ve pissed myself,” I said, gesturing to my wet crotch. “Plus, I don’t even have shoes on.”
I wiggled my toes as his eyes dropped to my feet. My bag landed on the floor with a thud.
“Shit, baby, I…” He trailed off, running his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands. I rubbed out the worry lines on his forehead, my belly pushing against his hard abs as I pressed into him.
“It’s okay,” I said softly, looking into his cerulean eyes. If there was one thing I wanted our baby to have, it was his eyes.
“I just don’t want anything to happen to our daughter.” He sighed, dropping his forehead to mine, his hands finding my swollen belly.
“Our son will be fine,” I said, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck and threading my fingers into the fine hairs at the base of his head. “Just let me change, and we can go, okay?”
“Seventeen hours, Jake,” I groaned, bent double over the hospital bed as another contraction squeezed the shit out of my uterus. “Why isn’t anything happening?”
“She doesn’t want to leave…”
“You say one more sappy comment, and I swear to God, Jacob, I’ll tear your dick off with my bare hands and make you eat the damn thing,” I snarled, grabbing his shirt and tugging him down to look me in the eye. “Google said it could be anywhere between eight to twelve hours.”
A strangled cry escaped my lips as pain washed through me again. Fuck, this was sore. People who had more than one of these things were fucking morons. I might not want to castrate Jake physically, but he had another thing coming if he thought I was doing this again.
He dislodged my hand from his shirt and rubbed my back just as the door to my private birthing suite–a motherfucking suite thanks toDaddy Warbucks–opened. A nurse with boobs the size of my head and a giant smile waddled in and grabbed a pair of gloves.
“How’s Mommy doing?” she asked, snapping the baby pink gloves up to her wrist.
“I’m fucking dying,” I groaned, dropping my forehead to the mattress and breathing deep. Angling my head, my cheek lying on the bed, I asked, “Can I get an epidural or something?”
“Oh, honey, I’m afraid you’re too far gone for an epidural.” She busied herself around the room as I stared in horror at the man who did this to me. She laughed at the panic I knew had taken over my face.
“Women have been giving birth au natural for centuries, honey, don’t panic.” She patted the bed. “Let’s get you up on the bed for Dr. Lana to see you. I think baby’s ready to come out.”
I shot Jake a death glare. This fucking nurse was too cheery for me as she began humming while Jake helped me onto the bed. The nurse worked around me, checking my heart rate, baby’s heart rate, and then passed me some ice chips.
What the fuck did I need ice chips for? I needed this babyout.
“Jake,” I said, holding my hand out. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
His fingers laced with mine, and he glanced at the nurse. “Can we get her to the restroom?”
“She doesn’t need to go, sir.” The nurse addressed Jake like I wasn’t in the room. “That’s a good sign.”
She took my feet and placed them in the stirrups at the bottom of my bed. “If you feel like you need the toilet, it’s just the baby getting ready, honey.”
“No, no, it’s not. I really need to shit,” I said, the time for being polite going right out the window as I tried to get my feet out of her grip.
“I don’t think so, sweetie,” she continued, ignoring me like it wasn’t my body screaming at me that I really had to go. Stupid bitch was going to make me shit the bed. “It’s just you getting ready to push, but I don’t think we are quite there yet. Let’s check, okay?”
Suddenly her hand was up my medical gown, feeling around between my legs. Her already megawatt smile increased as her hand reappeared away from the area that was off limits to even Jake.
“It appears baby is coming now.”
“Now?” Jake paled.
The nurse nodded, removing her gloves and dropping them into a medical waste bin. “Let me call Dr. Lana, and we can get this party started.”
“I’m going to kill her,” I panted as soon as she’d popped out of the room. “I swear to God, Jake, don’t let her back in here. She gets any closer to me or my baby, and I won’t be held responsible for what happens to Little Miss Sunshine out there.”
He brushed my hair from my sweaty forehead and kissed my temple.
“You’re doing so well, Stefany,” he cooed, and if I wasn’t in an enormous amount of pain as I prepared to push a watermelon out my vagina, I would have slapped him. “Very soon, you’ll be holding our daughter.”
