Page 86 of Paternal Instincts
“The phone. That’s a phone!” He sprung from the couch, elbowing me in the gut in the process as he tumbled to the floor, clearing the coffee table of debris as he scrambled to figure out whose device was ringing.
Foggy from a night of not sleeping, I sat up and cradled my wounded gut, prepared for Quaid to launch into a flurry of action the second he realized Bryn was in labor.
It was my phone ringing, but when Quaid grabbed for it, his expression suggested it wasn’t our surrogate calling. He turned the device to face me. “Who’s Lady Justicia?”
“Fuck.” I snagged the phone from his hand. “It’s Madison. What the hell time is it?” I accepted the call before it rolled over to voicemail, my voice croaking as I spoke. “Hey. Did you sign my warrants?” She didn’t speak, so I added, “Your Honor.”
“Don’t forget your place, Doyle.”
“Sorry.”
I couldn’t dance the same line as I used to back in my days as a single man, and although the judge had been going out of her way to help us out this past weekend, she wanted me to remember where I stood, which was far beneath her.
“You can pick them up from my secretary. You’re welcome. I’m in court all day. You’ll need to wait or find someone else if you need more.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. I appreciate it.”
She hung up without saying goodbye. Quaid sat on his ass beside the coffee table, frowning and waiting for a report.
I yawned and checked the time on my phone. Ten to seven. “Warrants are ready.” I must have drifted at some point during the night because I’d missed a couple of hours.
Quaid crossed his arms and hitched a brow. “Lady Justicia?”
“It’s a joke. A nickname. I programmed it years ago. I forgot I even had her number.” Although Quaid was much less jealous than he’d been before our marriage, there were times when his insecurities snuck through. Fearing this might be one of those times, I pivoted the conversation elsewhere, effectively erasing his concern with four simple words. “Bryn called last night.”
His eyes widened, and he scrambled to his knees. “What? How come? Oh my god. Why are you just telling me now?” He glanced at his phone like it had betrayed him. “I didn’t hear it ring. Is my phone broken?” He picked it up and shook it.
“I silenced the call so it wouldn’t wake you, then answered it.”
His eyes shone with surface tears, imploring me to say the words he’d been desperately waiting to hear.
“She’s in labor.”
It took half a second for it to sink in, and Quaid was off the floor like a shot, racing for the stairs like a man on a mission. “Why didn’t you wake me? We have to get to the hospital. When did she call? Oh my god. We’re going to miss it. Start the car, Az, I’m coming.”
I fumbled off the couch and chased after him, blaming my barely awake brain for jumping the gun. I knew Quaid would go into instant panic mode and run.
I found him in the bedroom, baby bag and car seat on the floor in the hallway. He stripped from his wrinkled clothes, leaving themscattered on the floor as he raced to the closet and snagged whatever hung on the first hanger he encountered.
“Quaid.” I grabbed for his arm, but he lurched away, tugging on jeans and unearthing a T-shirt from a drawer attached tomydresser. Over his head it went, inside out and backward. He didn’t notice. In fact, his button-fly jeans were incorrectly done up, so they pulled awkwardly at his waist.
“Quaid, stop and breathe.”
“There’s no time to breathe. Az, we’re going to miss everything. Our baby is coming. Maybe he or she is already here and wondering why Daddy wasn’t there like he promised. I can’t believe you didn’t wake me up.” He slapped my shoulder, and I winced.
“Quaid.” I caught his arm and held it tight so he couldn’t shake me off. “Stop. Bryn isn’t even at the hospital yet.”
He froze, a look of confusion on his face. “What are you talking about? Why? She has to go to the hospital. We didn’t plan a home birth. We can go get her and—”
“Labor has only just begun. When I talked to her, the contractions were still far apart. She was going to try to get some sleep. She’ll call when she heads to the hospital. She promised.”
“But—”
“It’s fine, Quaid. Everything is fine. Stop panicking.”
Quaid’s chest rose and fell. His baby blues frantically scanned my face. “What time did she call?”
“It was after midnight.”
