Page 97 of Paternal Instincts
“He ordered food. It was going to be ten or fifteen minutes, so he told me to go ahead so Jordyn’s tea didn’t get cold.”
I held the door to the waiting room for Costa since his hands were full and followed him inside. Jordyn gratefully accepted the tea, and I eyed Odelia’s steaming Keurig, wondering how much worse it would be than the cafeteria brew.
Caving, I approached the makeshift kitchen area and browsed the Keurig pods, dismissing the flavored ones and selecting a generic brand medium roast. I popped it into the machine and puzzled the buttons. A tray of mugs sat beside it on the counter, and I examined each of them, knowing they would never have been washed to my standard.
I found a suitably clean cup and started the machine. While it brewed, I checked my phone. Nothing from Bryn. Unable to shed the anxious buzzing in my belly, I tapped her number.
She answered right away. “Hey, Quaid.”
“Hi. How far apart now?”
Her smile came through in her tone. “Not quite six and a half minutes. The contractions are a bit heavier. Nothing I can’t handle.”
I sighed. “Why is it taking so long? It’s been hours.”
“I know, sweetie. These things take time. Ow… hang on.” I listened as she practiced the breathing exercises I’d read about in books.
“Are you having one now? Are you okay?”
She made a faint noise of acknowledgment, and I caught myself clutching the phone and breathing with her as my entire body tensed at the mere thought of her belly contracting around my baby and urging him or her to make their exit. Beads of sweat popped out across my hairline.
Costa’s gaze clashed with mine, and he winked with a knowing smile.
Nixon poked his head into the room, scanned, and left again with a look of utter disgust. I needed to talk to him if he was done chatting with Imogen. We needed to know if she’d disclosed anything about the child’s blood father.
But Bryn’s controlled breathing and the tiny noises escaping her throat as she worked through a contraction held me stationary. I listened to her brother or his boyfriend in the background, coaching her through it and wished it was me. I wanted to rub her back or hold her hand. I wanted to offer her ice chips and dab a cool towel over her forehead.
I clutched the counter when a wave of dizziness hit. The machine had finished brewing my coffee, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered but Bryn and my baby.
After less than a minute—it had felt like ten—the contraction eased, and Bryn breathed normally again. “I’m good. They aren’t too bad yet.”
“It sounded bad.”
“Believe me. It’s tame.”
Tame? I was exhausted from having experienced one.
“I hate to imagine them worse. Are you sure you shouldn’t go to the hospital? Maybe I should come to the house and—”
“I’m fine, sweetie. Arden and Iggy are here, and you’ll be the first person I contact when we head out. I promise.”
“Can I do anything?” I clutched the phone so tight the plastic case creaked.
“I’ve got all kinds of support.”
I wanted to do more, but before I could make another suggestion, the call-waiting beeped. I drew the phone from my ear to see who it was.
Aslan.
“Bryn? I have to go. Az and I are working on this case until you call, but we’ll be ready for you.”
“I know. Go do your thing.”
“Okay… But is he or she kicking still?”
“Not really. A bit of squirming now and again as they settle, but we have a good, strong heartbeat. Iggy’s been checking.”
“Okay.” Another beep from my call-waiting. “I have to go.”
