Page 56 of Never Yours

We pull up to the hospital, and he helps me get checked in. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait with you? Amanda won’t mind.”

“It’s okay, thank you again for driving me. I’m sorry if I ruined your car.” I grimace, but he laughs.

“It’s fine, do you need me to call someone?”

“I’m trying to get a hold of Caleb, but the reception is bad here. Would you mind calling him for me when you’re on the road?”

“Of course.” He nods, and I send him Caleb’s number.

“Shit! My dog! She’s still at the house.”

“What kind?”

“A Dalmatian.”

“Christ, woman!” He lets out a hearty laugh. “It’ll eat everything in sight. Give me your key, and I’ll take it for a walk while you’re here. If you need anything else, Amanda and I will be close by.”

“You’re amazing! Thank you so much.”

He leaves, and a few minutes later, a woman wheels me back into a triage room and does a swab for amniotic fluid. Turns out, my water did indeed break, and she insists I won’t be leaving until my baby is born. I groan, laying my head further into the pillow. The timing couldn’t be worse.

caleb

. . .

On my way to my therapy appointment, I get a call from an international number I don’t recognize. I send it to voicemail, and once the alert lights up on my phone, I click on it. A Scottish man’s voice comes through the car speakers.

“Caleb. This is Jack. You don’t know me, but Ingrid works with my wife, Amanda, and she told me to call you. I just dropped her off at the hospital. She gave me her key?—”

I don’t listen to the rest of the message and call him back. He picks up on the second ring.

“This is Jack.”

“How is she?” I rush out.

“Your lass is fine.”

“She’s not hurt?”

“No,” he laughs. “Her water broke on set, so I drove her to the hospital. Did you not listen to my message?”

“No,” I sigh. “Sorry, I just heard she was in the hospital and called you back.”

“Your wife is doing great. Her contractions slowed on the drive over.”

“She’s in labor?” I ask a little too loudly. I don’t bother correcting that she’s not my wife. While she isn’t, she’s still mine.

“Aye. She gave me her key to take your dog for a walk, so you can go straight to the hospital.”

I glance at the clock, and I’ll be hitting traffic; might take me close to three hours. “I’m on my way. Thank you for taking her.”

We hang up, and he texts me the address. I pull over to type it into the GPS when I notice missed texts and calls from Ingrid, Cass, and Pop.

Shit!

Cass is heading to the airport, Pop is going to stay behind a day or two in case it’s a false alarm, and as I’m scrolling the messages, a call comes in from a Los Angeles area code. It could be Ingrid, so I answer.

“Ingrid?” I can’t mask my worry.

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