Cassian

Gemma knocks her head against the headrest in my vehicle. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. With the close contractions, Gemma's worried she'll have the baby without Jake being beside her.

"Jake'll make it, Gemma," I say. Hiding the worry in my voice is difficult, but I think I do a decent job of it. I merge into the other lane and gently breeze past the slow car.

She rests a had on her bulging belly. "Cassian. Slow down, please. You're driving too fast."

Tension creeps into my shoulders as I shoot her an apologetic look. While expressing my apology, I coax the vehicle back to the speed limit. Trying to express empathy to Gemma is difficult when alerts are going off in my brain. If we don't arrive at the hospital soon, Gemma will end up having Callan in my vehicle. And we can't have that shit happen. The birthing process... I suppress a shiver. Seeing Gemma's vagina is not on my bucket list. Nope. Things would never be the same between us.

I run a hand through my sweaty hair. My anxious sweating is irrational compared to Gemma's about-to-give-birth-sweat.

"Cassian," she grits out.

An uneasy feeling settles in my gut. She's having another contaction.

She takes several deep breaths while gripping the edge of the console. Her knuckles are white and her breathing is laboured—no pun intended. Curse words fly from her mouth, which I suppose is a good thing. She needs to get them out of her system before Callan is born. Otherwise, she'll have a potty mouth to raise.

"We should be okay," she continues. Her posture is a little more relaxed now that the contraction has passed, but there's still sweat dripping down her temples. "I don't think I've dilated yet."

"Gemma," I whine. "Don't use those terms, please."

"Cassian," she snaps. "I'm about to push a fucking baby out of my vagina. Do not tell me what to do. Plus, if you ever decide to knock Penelope up, you'll go through this same cycle."

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, chewing on it. Fine. She has a point.

Instead of responding to her, I make a left turn and pull into the emergency drop-off zone. Thankfully, the area isn't busy. There's a free fifteen-minute parking spot available. It'll allow me to get Gemma situation, run back out here, park, and then return. Hopefully, Jake will arrive in the midst.

With aggression, I pull into the parking spot. My vehicle is crooked and the rear is sticking out a bit, but parking etiquette is the last thing on my mind. All that matters is getting Gemma inside. Callan will not be born in my vehicle, in parking lot, or in the lobby of the emergency section of the hospital.

"Oh, thank fuck," Gemma breathes. She unbuckles her seatbelt, and then swivels in her seat. Her hand flails as she reaches back, trying to collect her bag.

I give her hand a swat. "Knock it off, Gemma. You don't need the bag until after the birth. I'll run inside and grab you a wheelchair. Rest until I get back. Don't move. I mean it."

She shoots me a deadly glare. "I can walk."

Her glare is same one I've known since we met in elementary school. It's enough to turn my blood cold and make me antsy. But I shove those emotions down, keeping my expression hard and my stance firm. Today, Gemma Swift is not allowed to intimidate me. There's too much at stake here. Otherwise, I'd cower in the corner and cry for my mom. Not a word of a lie. If you get the Gemma glare, you're fucked.

"No," I reply. "You'll thank me for this later, Gemma, trust me."

I exit the vehicle before she can speak another word, ready to jog for the automatic doors when I hear the car door open. Skidding to a halt, I turn to see Gemma climbing out of the vehicle.

"Goddamn you, Gemma," I mutter.

My plan to gather a wheelchair for her has been swept from the board. I turn on my heel and return to Gemma. I take the bag from her and sling it over my shoulder, then I slide my arm beneath her shoulders to support her. 

As I'm helping Gemma into the entryway, I try to make conversation. "Know what this reminds me of?"

"What?" Gemma grunts. 

"When you and Jake quickly switched your honeymoon plans. After all that planning, you decided to go to Thailand instead of travelling throughout Europe. The spontaneity of you two is idiosyncratic."

Another contraction strikes Gemma before she can respond. She leans against me, digging her nails into my bicep. I lock my arms beneath her armpits, giving her as much support as she needs. It's difficult with the bag slung over my shoulder, but I manage. 

Gemma presses her face against my shoulder, low moans of pain muffled against my sweater. I do my best to comfort her. 

I'll never make another comment about pregnancies ever again.

Jesus fuck, I can't imagine how much pain she's in.

Once her contraction is over, I adjust Gemma's emergency bag and we continue limping to the automatic doors beneath the bright red EMERGENCY sign.

"Were you seriously comparing me pushing a small human out of my vagina to Jake and I's snappy travel decision?"

When she puts it like that, I feel sheepish. But this banter is what Gemma needs right now. "You two went to Thailand without me. You're lucky I didn't put laxatives in your food when you two arrived home."

Gemma rolls her eyes. "Really? Are we really bringing this up again?"

The automatic doors open with a loud swish. Inside, the antiseptic air feels heavy and humid. My shoes squeak against the white linoleum flooring as we trudge to a nurse sitting behind her desk.

Beads of sweat drip down the nape of my neck, dampening the collar of my T-shirt. "You could've brought me along. Would've made up for you making me shit my pants."

Gemma chokes on a strangled laugh. "At least you're not the only one who shit their pants."

A smile splits my lips. We're close to the front desk now. It's made of a blond hardwood, and the nurse behind it is wearing baby-blue scrubs decorated with tiny daisies. There are papers and folders scattered across the surface of it, along with a laptop and telephone.

"You still owe me, Gemma," I tease.

She presses a hand to her bulging stomach. Expels a deep breath. "We're making you the godfather. Isn't that enough?"

There's no time to respond. The nurse notices us just before we arrive at the desk. She drops the pen in her hand and rushes to the far wall. Wheelchairs line that wall, and my arms wail in relief when she pushes one over to us.

"Her water broke," I explain. "The contractions are about eleven minutes apart. We need to get her a room and prep her for, uh, birth."

That word tastes funny on my tongue. This isn't something I should be discussing with a nurse quite yet. Jake should.

Speaking of Jake... I glance over my shoulder at the floor-to-ceiling windows. There's a nice view of the shadowed walkway, street, and the urban park across. But I don't see any sign of Jake. I feel like he should be sprinting down the sidewalk by now.

"We'll get her to a room immediately," the nurse nods. "How are you feeling, Miss?"

Gemma tilts her head back and groans. "Like I'm dying."

The nurse chuckles. "A very common response. But let's get you up to a room and settled. We'll need to dress you in a hospital gown and attach you to a fetal monitor. Then I'll call the anesthesiologist and the doctor. "

Relief settles over me. Gemma won't want me there while that's happening. It gives me an opportunity to park my vehicle and give Jake a call. Maybe I'll try to contact Pen, too. See how the meeting went and when she'll be here. Jake and Gemma will also want their friends and family here. Hanna, Morgane, Reid, Patrick, and Gemma's parents. Making the calls for them would be my pleasure if it means avoiding any of this. 

I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. "I'll go park the vehicle. Jake should be here soon."

"CASSIAN RUSSELL," Gemma yells. "You are NOT leaving me alone!"

She grips my hand tighter, nearly snapping it in half. My body bends in association with the pain. "Fuck, Gemma! You're going to break my hand!"

"Broken bones will heal," she moans. She squeezes her eyes shut as another contraction overwhelms her. "My body is a different story. I didn't think it would hurt this bad. Fucking hell, it burns. God, my vagina will never function properly after this."

"Actually," the nurse smiles. "A vagina—"

"I don't want to hear science!" Gemma snaps. "I wan the epidural, and I want it now! This baby needs to come out. Ugggghhh."

The nurse flashes Gemma a sympathetic grin. "We'll see what the doctor has to say."

* * *

As it turns out, the baby is ready to join the world.

Gemma's too far along for an epidural.

She's nine centimetres dilated already. She has to be ten in order to start pushing.

Gemma'd been lying about her contractions. She'd started feeling them this morning, but she didn't want to worry Jake. That means she's been progressing since eight this morning.

"Don't judge me, Cassian," she mutters.

I glance at Gemma. She's hooked up to an IV that's keeping her hydrated and her legs are propped up. Thank God there's a blanket over her lower area, otherwise I'd die. Her hair is matted from the excessive sweating. Plus, she looks exhausted.

"Okay, Gemma," the doctor says. He's just finished pulling on a pair of sterile gloves. "Are we ready to start pushing?"

Gemma's face turns pale. "What? No! Jake's not here yet. He needs to be here. I can't have this baby without—"

The door swings open, and I see a frantic Jake enter. His suit is wrinkled and his hair is a tangled mess of knots. He looks like a madman.

Do I care?

Hell no.

I need to get out of here.

"Thank the fucking lord," I mutter, climbing to my feet. The chair I was sitting in was uncomfortable, and my ass is sore. Also, I'm feeling a little dizzy.

Before exiting, I wish Gemma good luck and press a kiss to her flushed cheek. She flips me off.

Jake claps me on the shoulder when we meet halfway. He looks stressed, but he's doing his best to hide it with a smile. "Thank you so much, man. I can take it from here."

Another wave of dizziness hits me, and I have to tighten my grip on Jake's shoulder. It's been a while since I've eaten anything, so perhaps my blood sugar is low. I make a mental note to buy a juice box from the vending machine.

"Good luck," I reply. "You're gonna need it. Don't let Gemma hold your hand. She'll break all your bones."

Jake chuckles, and then steps past me.

Well... he tries to.

Because just as he's doing that, Gemma makes a noise, and we both turn to look at her. Which is a big mistake on my part. The sight is too much. I'm not trying to add to stigma or shame Gemma's body, but I was not expecting to see a full-on view of her dilated vagina. I squeeze my eyes shut.

The world sways again.

"You okay, man?" Jake asks.

"Yeah," I breathe.

Nope.

As soon as the lie leaves my mouth, the world goes black.