Texas-Sized Trouble. Delores Fossen
coherent now, and he’d managed that comment without profanity.
“The baby’s coming, and he’s three-and-a-half weeks early,” she repeated. “How soon before the ambulance gets here?”
“Soon.” Lawson placed his hand on her belly. “How far apart are your contractions?”
She would have answered him if the contraction from Hades hadn’t hit her at the exact moment she opened her mouth. The sound that came out was nowhere recognizable as human speech.
“All right,” Lawson mumbled. “All right. Stay steady. Try to relax. And breathe. Don’t growl like a bear or it’ll make your throat sore.”
It was all stupid advice. She couldn’t do any of those things. But she could latch on to his hand since it was right there on her whale-sized stomach. Eve latched on and squeezed.
It helped.
Well, it helped her, anyway, but Lawson yelped in pain and cursed again. He worked his hand out of her grip—which she wanted to point out was mild compared to the contraction—and he shot her a look that could have frozen central Texas in August. That wasn’t his charming look, either, but it coordinated well with his noncharming tone and useless advice.
Over the past eighteen years, she’d fantasized about what it would be like to come home and see Lawson again, but never once had she thought it would be like this. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to welcome her back with open arms, either. Good thing, too, since he wouldn’t be able to get his arms around her right now.
How the heck had it come to this?
Here she was thirty-five, almost thirty-six, and was about to give birth to a baby she certainly hadn’t planned. A baby she loved and desperately wanted though. She just hadn’t wanted him to decide to come this early.
Added to that, she was without any medical help other than the man whose heart she’d crushed. Maybe this was some kind of karma playing out. If so, she wanted karma to know that she was really suffering. Maybe even dying.
Oh, mercy.
Was she dying?
No, she couldn’t be. Not with so much unsettled in her life. But maybe that’s how most people felt. There hadn’t been nearly enough time for her to get her ducks in a row. Heck, she wasn’t even sure she had a row yet, and her main duck was missing.
“Tessie,” she sobbed.
That came through loud and clear, and it caused Lawson to stare at her. “Your daughter.”
Since it wasn’t a question, that meant Lawson knew some of what had gone on in her life since she’d left Wrangler’s Creek. Of course he did. Most of her adult life had been tabloid news even after she’d stopped acting. Entertainment. Well, it didn’t feel so blasted entertaining right now.
“If I don’t make it,” Eve said, “please call Tessie for me and tell her I love her.”
Again, she didn’t hear Lawson’s answer because the next contraction roared through her. Eve hadn’t timed them, but she was betting they were less than a nanosecond apart.
“What about the baby’s father?” Lawson asked. “You want me to call him, too?”
Her heartbeat was drumming in her ears, King Kong and his posse were squeezing, and she was about to explode. Yet she heard that. Heard the edge in his voice, as well. She’d managed to keep the baby daddy’s identity out of the press, but Lawson probably figured that it was no one he would approve of.
Well, neither did she.
But she couldn’t do anything about that right now other than give birth to this precious child and start putting the pieces of her life back together.
“How long before the ambulance gets here?” she asked again, this time through the grunts and groans.
Lawson might have given her the answer, but Eve didn’t hear it because another contraction came. She hadn’t thought the pain could get worse, but she’d been wrong about that. She nearly reached for Lawson’s hand again, but everything inside her was screaming to do something else.
“Help me get out of my panties,” she gritted through clenched teeth.
The words were very familiar. Probably because she’d said them, or something similar, to Lawson moments before he’d rid her of her virginity. There’d been pain that night, too, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to this. Medieval torture was nothing compared to this.
Lawson’s forehead bunched up. “Uh, maybe the medics can take them off. Or I could call Garrett. He’s in the house.”
“No. Not Garrett.” She didn’t want anyone other than the medics or a doctor seeing her like this. It was bad enough that Lawson was having to witness it. Plus, she didn’t want Garrett slipping in the puddle. “Just help me with the panties.”
Lawson was clearly uncomfortable getting her partially naked, but that screaming inside her was still going on. Along with another loud message for her to push. But she couldn’t do that, not until the medics came because it would make the baby come before they got there.
She pushed.
Eve couldn’t stop herself. She bore down, making that bear growl that Lawson had already warned her about, and since he wasn’t ridding her of her panties, she fought to get them off.
“Please don’t let me die,” she told him. “Please let my baby be all right.”
Lawson looked up at the ceiling as if searching for some kind of divine assistance. “You’re not dying. Both you and your baby will be fine.”
Oh, she wanted to latch on to that poorly attempted reassurance, but the craziness was building and building. “How do you know we’ll be fine? Have you ever delivered a baby before?”
“No. Just calves.” He shimmied the panties off her. “But I suspect it’s about the same.”
The horrified look on his face said otherwise.
“Is something wrong?” Eve asked.
“No, nothing’s wrong. But I see the top of a head.” The color drained from his face.
Eve was certain the color drained from her face, too, but it didn’t last because she had to push again. That no doubt put some color back in her cheeks since she was straining and grunting.
“Here.” Lawson thrust his left hand at her again, an invitation for her to squeeze the crap out of it.
So, that’s what Eve did. She squeezed, pushed, cursed and grunted. Lawson was doing some of those things, too, in addition to putting his right hand between her legs.
“You’re almost there,” he said. “One more push should do it.”
She honed in on the sound of his voice and pushed. Then, just like that, the pain vanished. Not just a little bit of it, either. It completely went away. She looked down to see if Lawson had worked some kind of magic. No magic though.
Lawson was holding her son in his lap.
There was a split second of stunned silence from all three of them, but it didn’t last. The baby started to cry, and Eve could tell from the loud wail that there was absolutely nothing wrong with his lungs. That nothing wrong applied to the rest of him, either.
He was perfect.
Yes, perfect. Even with that squalling red face, balled-up fists and spindly legs. And huge feet. He was like a really pissed-off Hobbit. But he was her precious little Hobbit.
Lawson reached up on the kitchen counter, grabbed the roll of paper towels, and he coiled them around the baby like a hooded blanket. They certainly made a picture with him tending the baby like that. The boy she’d once loved holding the newborn boy she already loved with all her heart.
“No horns,” Lawson said.