Page 71 of Atonement

“How come?”

“My water just broke.”

In an instant his face went from confused to elated to terrified, but he was frozen for only a second before he sprinted to the closet. “Okay, that’s fine. We still have plenty of time.” I heard the snap of buttons flying off his shirt as he pulled it over his head rather than bother with unfastening them.

“We really do. I’m not even having contraction ye—”

“I’m ready!” He ran out of the closet, shirt on backwards and with only one leg in his sweat pants. “Let’s go.”

“Relax. Put your shirt on correctly.”

While he was distracted I slid my legs out of bed, then reached for one of the clean towels Meyer had just finished folding. By the time I had it wrapped around my waist, he was at my side and helping me toward the door.

“Do you want to call Jessica to cancel your meeting?”

“No time.”

I rolled my eyes. “Plenty of time. Do that while I slide into these shoes.” I took my time grabbing my shoes and walking to the kitchen to sit down, then pulled them on while Meyer dialed his secretary.

“Jessica. We’re going to the hospital. Cancel the dinner.” Then he hung up and reached for my hands, helping me to my feet and guiding me toward the garage just as a contraction hit. My grimace didn’t escape him. “It’ll be fine. I can get us there in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be okay,” I reassured him. “I’m with you.”

He paused before closing the car door, smiling at me as I fastened my seat belt and settled against the backrest. As the contraction passed, I returned his grin, unable to stop the giggle that rose up in me at seeing him so happy. When we first met, he’d done nothing but frown and sneer for weeks. Now, though, everything had changed. He smiled and laughed every day, sometimes while talking to me, but sometimes just on his own. A stray thought would make him grin as he sipped his coffee. Her Majesty or one of the other horses we’d rescued from the slaughterhouse would give him an attitude, and he’d roll his eyes as he chastised them. He still doubted himself sometimes, but those days were few and far between. Every sunset brought us closer together, and more importantly, it brought him closer to his true self. The one he’d convinced himself was dead after being buried for thirty long years. That time was over now. He was Meyer Sheppard, kingpin of Schaf Industries, human rights ambassador, my husband, and—soon to be—a father.

“I love you,” he said, and I put my hand on his cheek.

“Me too.”

He kissed me briefly, then leaned down to kiss my belly. “Let’s go have a baby.”

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