Page 166 of With A Little Luck
“I think we were supposed to wait for her to say yes,” I mutter, scratching my cheek.
Ridge snorts and grabs Quincy’s hand. “She saidyes!”
The crowd erupts, and I chuckle, shaking my head. She absolutely didnotsay yes, but whatever… We weren’t going to let her get away.
Epilogue
Ridge
The bond is a gift when Quincy doesn’t feel like speaking, and this contraction means business. Dr. Lindsay wasn’t joking when she mentioned Quincy could walk around dilated for several weeks. Today marks thirty-eight weeks and five days, and I’d bet my left nut that this is active labor.
Not that I’m particularly fond of my balls at the moment. First of all, they get shooting pains every single time a contraction ravages the bond. And secondly, they’re at least partially responsible for the pain Quincy is now experiencing every five minutes.
Her nails dig into my forearm, and she stops dead in her tracks on the way to the bathroom. She groans, swaying from side to side.
Dammit.
I’d do just about anything to be able to trade places with her. “Can I help in any way?”
“By not talking,” she grumbles. “Let’s just have quiet time for right now.”
I nod.
Message received,loud and clear.
Today has been brutal.
She’s thrown up twice and dealt with a stomach ache on and off all afternoon, but the mild discomfort ramped up to significant pain once the sun went down.
“Car is packed,” Hart says, jogging into the room. “Trigg called the office to let them know the contractions are coming?—”
“We’re all being quiet while I breathe through the pain,” Quincy hisses.
I nod like a total suck up, and Hart shoots me awhat the hell? kinda look. Yeah, I probably should have warned him, but then I would have been the one who got in trouble.
I’m already at the top of her shit list because I’m the one who impregnated her.
“Okay, let’s go,” Quincy says as the contraction starts to ease. “I have to pee so bad, which makes no sense since I peed two contractions ago.”
“It’s okay, Mama. The baby books said this would happen due to all the pressure down there.” I help her waddle to the bathroom and say a prayer that she doesn’t hate me after giving birth.
Trigg maintains a level of calm that I’m extremely envious of. It feels like the world is on fire, and I really wish Quincy would just say enough is enough and get the fucking epidural.
I keep my mouth firmly closed about that because it’s her body, but it’s eating away at my soul to watch her suffer.
Hartley stands behind her as she bounces on the birthing ball, and I pace the floor bare. The nurse has been in and out, but she pops back in, rubbing her hands together with what I assume is hand sanitizer.
She moves to grab gloves and smiles at Quincy. “How are we doing? Baby’s heart rate looks good on the portable monitors?—”
“I’d like to be checked, please,” Quincy says, nodding. “I changed my mind. I want an epidural if I can still get it.”
“I’m happy to check you,” the nurse says. “I do want to mention that if you get the epidural, you have to stay in bed. It’s for safety reasons, but it’s hard to be up moving around with a catheter, anyway.”
Why the hell is she trying to talk Quincy out of the epidural? Okay, maybe she’s just giving her the information, but I have to fight the urge to shush her.
Give my woman the good drugs.
Trigg strides over and squats down in front of Quincy. “Can I help you up, love?”
