Page 69 of Capitally Unexpected

I pull her in a hug, leaning down to her ear and say, “I can’t wait,” before pulling back and finding a smile on her face to match mine.

“I’m a little nervous about the pain coming my way between now and then, but . . . me neither.”

“All right then.” I lace my hand with hers. “Let’s do this thing.”

I thank the parking gods who let me snag this spot a week ago when we only have to walk a few steps on the covered sidewalk before I deposit Michelle into the car. My New England-self prepared for this storm by leaving the windshield wipers sticking up, but my snow-trained driving isn’t prepared for a city full of transplants.

I blare on my horn for the fifth time in as many blocks.

“Relax, babe. We’re going to make it.” Michelle tries to soothe me.

“I don’t understand why people are driving right now if they don’t how to drive in the snow.”

“Maybe they’re all having babies too,” she says, her tone telling me if I could take my eyes off the road to look at her, she’d be sticking her tongue out at me.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I growl, navigating around a car with its four-ways on half in the lane and half in a parking spot.

Finally, I pull up to the hospital and run around to the other side again to meet the valet.

“Where did you grow up?” I ask the kid approaching from the valet stand, who can’t be much older than seventeen.

“Uh, here?” he says, eyes wide, giving me an answer I’ve only heard a handful of times since I moved here in June.

I eye him warily. “Look, kid, the car is brand?—”

“What he’s trying to say is thank you so much for coming to work during a snowstorm.” Michelle’s voice comes from behindme. “You may not be able to tell, but we’re about to have a baby and he’s a smidge high strung.”

The passenger side door is open and her feet are swung around, ready to touch the snow-covered ground. Decision made for me, I drop the keys in the kid’s outstretched hand and rush to her side, helping her stand and step up on the curb.

Two steps later, Michelle stops walking, her face pinching in pain. She grips her stomach and breathes through the contraction. “I’d very much like to see a doctor and find out if it’s time for drugs yet,” she says. Her eyes open, her gaze surprisingly clear given the snow globe we drove through and what we’re here to do.

“Anything you want, babe,” I say. I wrap my arm around her back and guide her to the ramp leading to the emergency room entrance.

“Uh, sir?” the valet’s voice comes from behind me, his voice indicating the last thing he wants to do is engage with me any further. “Do you need this bag?”

Michelle snorts a laugh. “Next time we have a baby, maybe a little less interrogating and a little more checking the backseat to be sure we have everything.”

“Next time we have a baby”—I set her hand on the conveniently placed railing—“you’re giving birth in summertime.” I jog the few steps to the car and take a few extra seconds to log the valet’s name. “Thanks for the heads up, Jack. I’ll make sure you get a good tip whenever things aren’t so pressing.”

He nods, still looking like he’d very much like to get away from me. “Good luck, sir.” Without another word, he heads to the other side of the car, and I move back to Michelle’s side.

“You know, from a weather perspective, spring actually holds the least possibility of severe and sudden weather disasters,” Michelle says as I approach. “But I do think we should see this one through before we start planning any more.”

“Deal.” Bag settled on my shoulder, I wrap my arm around her and continue our walk to the doorway. “You know, the valetkid called me sir twice.” I mean to keep my tone nonchalant, but some of my surprise must slip through, because Michelle leans further into my side, causing me to look down at her.

“Fatherhood looks good on you, babe,” she says, tilting her face up for a kiss. I meet her willingly, like I will every time she wants my lips on hers for the rest of our lives.

I check my watch and see it should be about time for another contraction. Grabbing a wheelchair from where a few are left unaccompanied by an empty security booth, I help Michelle settle into one. This seems like a time for forgiveness and not permission.

She grabs onto my hand firmly, breathing through the incoming contraction, right on schedule. A few seconds later, she opens her eyes, meeting mine.

“Let’s go have a baby?” I ask. She nods, giving me her game face, determined to face labor head on. I move behind her so I can push us the rest of the way to the check-in desk.

“Though, if you want to take the first shift of pushing, I wouldn’t complain.”

“If I could, I would,” I say, my voice earnest.

She reaches up to grip my hand and turns so she can see me while we wait our turn. “Love you,” she says, her eyes displaying the depth of her emotion.

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