Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
"I'll wait out here."
"Uh, yeah," she says. "There's no way we're both fitting in that thing."
She waddles inside, scrunching her nose up at the smell.
I wait in front of the door, chuckling as she mutters to herself. Even after five years, she's still always talking. I don't think she ever stops. Her voice is still my favorite sound. I fucking love it.
"Deacon!" she shouts.
The sheer panic in her voice sends my heart slamming against my ribcage. I rip the door of the port-a-potty open, ready to fight. She's still sitting on the little toilet, her eyes wide and stricken.
"My water just broke," she whispers.
"What?"
"My water just broke." Tears well in her eyes.
Fuck. Oh, fuck. We're an hour from the nearest hospital.
"Come on, baby," I say, trying to stay calm to keep her calm. "Let's get you back to the car. Everything is going to be okay."
"I can't have this baby on the side of the road, Deacon."
"We're not having the baby on the side of the road. We're going to the hospital," I say firmly. Paul Bunyan, save me. We better not have this baby on the side of the road or she's going to kick my ass.
I help her up from the toilet and then scoop her up into my arms to carry her back to the car.
"I'm going to leak on you!" she cries.
"I don't give a flying fuck," I growl, pressing my lips to her temple. I've had my tongue in her ass. I think I can handle a little amniotic fluid.
The first contraction hits halfway back to the car. She yelps, digging her nails into my shoulder. "Babe the Blue Ox, that hurts!"
I race her to the SUV and plant her ass in the seat, buckling her in as she writhes through the contract. I'm the world's biggest asshole for getting her pregnant again. It's my dick's fault. He can't stay out of her.
"Breathe, baby," I croon. "You know how to do it."
"Deacon, please drive," she whimpers, breaking my heart.
I press my lips to her forehead and shut her door, jogging to the driver's side. As soon as my ass is in the seat, we're on the road, racing back down the mountain toward the nearest hospital.
"You doing okay, Sunshine?"
"Yes," she whispers. "The contraction stopped."
I exhale a relieved breath.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
She sits back in her seat.
Approximately sixty seconds later, the next contraction hits.
There's no fucking way we're making it to the hospital.
"Deacon!" she cries. "Drive faster!"
"I'm driving, baby. But I can only go so fast. I'm not going to risk killing you or the baby to get us there," I say.
"I can't have a baby in the car."
"I don't think you have a choice, Sunshine. He's coming."
"Why does nature hate me?" she cries.
If she wasn't so scared, I'd laugh.
"Deacon?" she whispers, clinging to my hand an hour later as the ambulance loads her into the back. "Are you sure the baby is okay?"
"Yeah, Sunshine," I promise, pressing my lips to her forehead. "He's good. You did good."
We didn't make it to the hospital. We didn't even make it down the damn mountain. Our boy decided he was ready to make his entrance, and that was that. I delivered him on the side of the road…though truthfully, I didn't do a whole hell of a lot. She had that shit handled. I just did what I was told. What can I say? I may have been a firefighter in a past life, but my wife is a superhero in this one.
The paramedics grabbed the baby up as soon as they got here—five minutes too late—and started checking him over, but he's doing great. He's a big boy, just like his brothers. We named him Atlas.
"We're never having sex again," she mumbles, making one of the EMTs chuckle.
I shoot him a hard glare. He quickly zips it and busies himself with supplies.
"Whatever you want, Sunshine," I say, knowing she doesn't mean it. As soon as she bounces back, she'll be rearing to go again. "Maybe four should be our limit."
"What?" She blinks at me, suddenly more alert than she was two seconds ago. "You don't want more babies? But I want a girl."
"You just said…" I trail off, shaking my head. "Never mind. We'll get you your girl, Cordelia. Just as soon as you recover from this one." I pause. "But next time, maybe we don't go to the cabin in the third trimester."
"Smart plan," she says. "We should definitely have more sex at the cabin before the third trimester."
I laugh, leaning down to press my lips to hers. "Now you're speaking my language, little girl," I breathe against her lips.
"I love you."
"I love you, Sunshine."
A paramedic carries Atlas to us, bundled in blankets.
"He's doing great, mama," she says, laying him on Cordelia's chest. She immediately cuddles him close, some of the tension draining from her body. "He's a healthy little guy. You did good."