Page 87 of Paternal Instincts
“That was hours ago. What if—”
“Quaid. Labor can take hours. She said her first birth was over thirty. We have time.”
“But… But second babies tend to come faster. I read that in a book. How far apart are her contractions? If she’s not at the hospital, how will she know if she’s dilating properly? Has her water broken? If her water broke, she’s supposed to be at the hospital and lying down. We don’t want a prolapsed cord. I read about that too. Does her back hurt? It could mean the baby hasn’t turned. Breech could mean a C-section. If she was at the hospital, they would be able to tell if—”
“Why don’t you call her? Maybe you’ll feel better after talking to her.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and spun in circles like he didn’t know where to go. “Where’s my phone?”
“On the coffee table. Check in with her, and if she’s still in the early stages, then we should probably figure out what to do about your case.”
His frantic look shifted. “Shit. My case.”
“Either we hand it off to someone now or keep going until she gets to the hospital. Either way, you need to call Edwards and let him know Jordyn will need backup soon.”
I could tell my husband was barely processing, so I snagged a belt loop and dragged him toward me, undoing his miss-buttoned pants.
“What are you doing? There’s no time for hanky-panky.”
I chuckled. “You’re a mess, hot stuff. I’m fixing you.” When the buttons were properly aligned, I pulled the T-shirt over his head, earning a sneer. “It’s inside out and backward. Relax.”
“Oh.”
With the shirt on correctly, I took his face between my palms. “Go call Bryn. Get an update and tell me what we’re doing. I’ll make coffee and breakfast to go.”
He nodded and aimed for the door, grabbing the hospital bag and car seat on his way downstairs. I could have told him the carrier was unnecessary until we were ready to take the baby home. I could have pointed out his hair was in disarray and his chin was scruffy. I couldhave mentioned the shirt he’d put on was mine and advertised a band he loathed with every molecule of his body, but I didn’t. None of it mattered. He was a man on the cusp of becoming a father for the first time. The world would forgive his imperfections for a day.
I found him in the living room, pacing, hugging himself, and crying silent tears as he talked to Bryn. Oscar watched from his perch by the window, likely sensing a shift in the universe. The poor cat had no idea what was coming. A baby would disrupt his entire world.
Quaid’s frantic energy simmered. He was listening to Bryn, and that was for the best. He trusted her. Over the months of the pregnancy, Quaid had grown to love and care for Bryn like a sister, and it made me smile.
Heart full and warm, I headed to the kitchen and brewed coffee. I sensed we had plenty of time, so I made fried eggs on English muffins—mushrooms and spinach on Quaid’s and extra cheese with salsa on mine—and wrapped them in foil, knowing my husband would want to hit the road the second he was off the phone. Where we might be headed was anyone’s guess. Bryn’s brother’s house? The hospital? Headquarters? The courthouse?
Thinking ahead, I considered what to do about the case. We were on the brink of discovery, and Jordyn couldn’t finish alone, not when we were juggling so many pieces. Maybe Ruiz would step in. He was trained even though he rarely worked in the field. Plus, he was familiar with the case.
Quaid appeared in the doorway as I filled two travel mugs with coffee. He leaned against the frame. His color had returned to normal, eyes clearer. “Her contractions are seven and a half minutes apart. She isn’t going to the hospital yet. Iggy is home with her. No back pain. Her water is still intact. She’s resting while she can.”
“Areyou calmer?”
He shrugged but nodded. The gesture wasn’t reassuring. His mind was not in the game, and it would compromise his ability to work. I knew without asking that his thoughts were miles from the case and swimming in facts and figures from the numerous labor and delivery textbooks he’d devoured these past couple of months.
“Call Edwards.”
“What? Why?”
“Tell him you need a replacement asap. Call Jordyn. Let her know what’s happening. Maybe Ruiz will give her a hand.”
He shook his head as I spoke. “No. No. I’m okay. I’ll tell Edwards that Jordyn needs backup, but I can keep going until Bryn calls.”
“Quaid—”
“I have to, Az. I can’t sit around here, or I’ll go crazy. I need a distraction, and I took this case. It’s my responsibility.”
“Fair enough, but can you focus?”
“Yes. I have to. Crowley needs me to.”
“Get your backup in order. Wewillhave to bail at some point.”
