Page 89 of Boss Daddy

James snorts out a laugh. “She’s handling it fine,” he says, cutting in. “We’ll be at the hospital in twenty.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Samuel says. “Erin, hang in there. I love you.”

“Love you too,” I say quickly before the call ends.

James glances over at me, his expression calm. “Keep breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

I follow his instructions, feeling a little more grounded as he expertly navigates the evening traffic.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” I admit, shooting him a sideways glance. “Didn’t peg you for the nurturing type.”

He chuckles, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. “Don’t get used to it. This is a one-time deal.”

I laugh. “Maybe if you get bored of security work you can pivot to a career as a birthing coach.”

That gets a sharp laugh out of him.“Uh, no.”

I pull my phone out and fire off a quick text to Tiffany.

It’s time! Heading to the hospital now.

Her response comes almost instantly.

OMG! I’m coming. Don’t have the babies without me!

Tiffany and I hadn’t been super close before the Misha incident, but ever since then, we’ve become close to besties. She’s been there for me throughout the pregnancy, and I’ve been by her side since she left her parents and moved back into the city. I’m already at the point where I don’t know what I’d do without her.

We pull up to the ER just as another contraction grips me, sharp and insistent. The pain is blinding, but it fades the second I see Samuel standing outside, waiting for us. Relief and happiness crash over me all at once.

“There’s my man,” I say, grinning through the pain as James helps me out of the car. Suddenly, everything feels like it’s going to be okay.

A nurse wheels me into the ER as Samuel holds my hand. My head is spinning from the rush of it all, but the warmth of his grip keeps me grounded.

A nurse with kind eyes and a clipboard meets us inside, smiling. “Dr. Mayer is on her way,” she says. “She’ll be here soon.”

I nod, relieved. Dr. Mayer’s been with me through my entire whirlwind pregnancy, and knowing she’ll be here makes me feel a little more in control of what’s happening.

I’m wheeled into a small exam room where my vitals are taken and I change into a gown. Within minutes, the ER doctor on call, a tall woman with dark hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail, steps in and takes charge. She examines me, her touch efficient yet gentle.

“Well,” she says, pulling off her gloves, “these babies are ready. They’re coming, and they’re coming soon.”

I blink at her, completely thrown. “Wait, what? I thought labor was supposed to take hours—like, marathon-level hours.”

The doctor chuckles, clearly used to this kind of reaction. “Sometimes it does,” she says with a shrug. “Sometimes it doesn’t. You’re one of the lucky ones. Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.”

“Lucky,” Samuel says, giving my hand a squeeze. “Definitely lucky.”

Another contraction rolls through me. “Lucky!” I bite out.

They transfer me to a delivery room, the sterile white walls and beeping monitors adding to the surreal nature of the experience. I’m settled into the bed, and Samuel stays glued to my side, helping me breathe through each contraction.

He’s calm and steady, the rock I need right now, and I’m so grateful I could cry.

James, on the other hand, is on a mission. He’s darting around the room, grabbing water bottles, extra pillows, and anything else he thinks might help. At one point, he even checks the thermostat, muttering something about it being too warm.

“James,” Samuel says, shooting him an amused look, “you don’t have to stay. We’ve got this.”

James snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not a chance in hell. There’s no way I’m missing my god kids’ birth.”

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