Page 39 of Knocked Up in Alaska

She looked at him, squinted because he glowed like…an angel. “What?”

“Everything happened exactly as it was meant to happen.”

The anger rushed back, frighteningly huge and ferocious. “How can you say that? How can you even think it?” She spat the questions at him. “You died, Shay. Died at twenty-five, never knowing your own child. My mother loathes me for going and doing the one thing she warned me she’d never forgive. If I even do manage to pop this baby out into the word, it’s stuck with a mom who doesn’t have a clue how to raise another human being. How could any of that be meant to happen?”

From galaxies away someone’s phone rang, and the piercing noise had the power to yank her out of the current she floated in. A low voice cursed at the same time the exam table solidified under her. The overhead lights burned bright, steadily dimming Shay from her view.

“You’re going to be the best mom,” he said in a soft, distant voice. “You already are. You’re a natural, and you’ve taken such good care of her. Wake up, now, and have our baby.”

She turned her head to try and follow his voice and ended up locking gazes with Ford. “Sorry,” he said and leaned close to brush her hair off her forehead. His dark eyes looked so serious. “That was my phone.”

“I barely heard it. I was dreaming.” Her voice sounded thick. “I think.”

He frowned. “You only closed your eyes for a second or two.”

“That’s it? It felt like…oh god, oh god, oh god…” And then speech became impossible because another contraction caught her in a ruthless grip. A grip so punishing she had to bear down to survive it. The blip of the fetal heart rate monitor speeded up, reverberated in her ears.

“Breathe. Breathe, baby,” Ford murmured. Strong arms supported her as she gripped the bedrails, drew herself up, and cried out through the fiercest of the pain. “Just keep breathing.”

“Doc’s on her way from the airfield,” Bev chirped from her seat at the end of the table, between Lilah’s stirrup-braced heels. “She better hustle her butt, or she’s going to miss this one’s big entrance.” As the contraction faded, the heart rate monitor’s blips spaced out. Lilah blinked sweat from her eyes, stared through the V-shaped gap of her bent, parted legs, and brought Bev into view. The woman sat there, beaming and eager, as if awaiting opening curtain on a Broadway show. “I can feel her head easily now,” she said helpfully.

She wanted to scream, Pull her out! Pull her out! For the love of God, pull her the fuck out! But her muscles gave out and she sagged into Ford’s arms. Instead of a shout, she managed to whimper, “Can you pull her out?”

“Not yet, honey.” Bev shot her a sympathetic smile. “Another few contractions, and we’ll see.” She patted Lilah’s trembling leg. “I’ve been where you are, honey, and I know you want to kick me smack in the face just about now, but you’re doing great.”

Lilah dropped her head back to the pillow and closed her eyes so nobody would see her cry.

Bev patted her leg again. “That’s it. Rest while you can. Breaks are going to be few and far between real soon. The baby’s nearly crowning. Come on down and get yourself a front row seat, Ford.”

Her eyes popped open at the suggestion and met his panicked gaze.

“No. No, no. I don’t need to do that,” he replied rapidly. His stare didn’t so much as waver from her face. It clung there, somewhat desperately. “I’m fine right where I am.”

“I don’t care,” she said and realized it was true as she started to float again. Her body was a temple of pain, a stretched and torn casualty of science and nature. The baby was the only important thing. “Go watch her, if you want to.”

“Her?” Even with her eyes at half mast, she saw his deep brown ones somehow soften. He swept strands of her hair off her damp forehead. “I thought you didn’t know.”

“Shay…just told me…” The words came out whispery. Maybe they hadn’t come out at all?

Ford’s endlessly fascinating eyes flicked away. He said something she didn’t catch, but he sounded worried enough for her to try to dredge up the strength to ask him to repeat himself. Bev replied, though, and then Ford spoke, and she let it go. Let their conversation drift over her.

Minutes or hours later, another contraction took hold. A bad one. It dumped her unceremoniously back into her body, gave her no choice but to lean forward and push. “Jeeeesus…it burns, it burns, it buuuurns.”

“It’s okay, honey. It’s normal,” Bev insisted. “Means your baby’s almost ready to—”

A ringtone jangled into the conversation, insistent and unignorable. The sharpness of it stabbed directly into her brain. Ford swore and shifted, making her aware that sometime during the last contraction he’d switched from the chair by her bed to the bed itself, sliding in behind her to support her back and help her maintain her forward posture when pushing. “Sorry. I thought I silenced it,” he murmured and pulled the phone from his pocket. The ringing got louder—like some godawful torture device—then suddenly stopped as he flicked a switch on the side. Silence reigned, broken only by the beeps of the monitor.

“Can…I?” she panted and held out her hand.

“Anything, baby. Anything you want. It’s yours.” He dropped the phone into her palm. “Just tell me—”

She levered her arm back and hurled the phone through the gap in the privacy curtain, just as Dr. Devan came through with Bridget behind her.

Oh, damn.

The phone whizzed by the doctor, struck Bridget in the shoulder, and bounced off to land with a solid thump on the smooth tile floor.

“Ow!” Bridget rubbed her shoulder as she crouched to pick up the phone. “I knew labor was painful, but I didn’t expect it to be painful for the bystanders. Hey, Ford.” She crossed the small room and handed him his phone. “Fancy meeting you here.” In an uncharacteristically gentle voice, she said, “Hey, Lilah.”

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