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“Why can’t things go smoothly for us, like they do for everybody else?”
He sat for a moment with his lips pursed. “Maybe it’s not supposed to?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, think about it, Pheebs. Every day, people fall in love, get married, and have kids. Do they ever truly appreciate what they have? When things are handed to you, you wonder if there’s something better around the corner. With you and Julian, that’ll never happen. It’s like that British dude said, ‘Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.’ You two are like those fucking characters in that story. Minus the poison and dying thing.”
A widespread grin overtook me. “Ryker Bale, did you just quote Shakespeare?” I watched with hilarity as redness dropped from his forehead to his neck.
“I remember a few things from English lit.”
I stared at him with a transfixed smile. “So, Romeo and Juliet, huh?”
Pointing an accusatory finger at me, he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t get all girlie on me. There were a lot of good fights in that play. I carried a sword.”
“It must have gone well with your tights.”
“Stretchy pants,” he screeched. “They were not tights.”
“They were tights, Ryker. The only thing better would’ve been if you’d worn ballet shoes and a feathered hat.” I’d never let him live this one down.
He dropped my hand and crossed his arms. “I was Mercutio, Phoebe, not fucking Peter Pan.”
I covered my face, attempting to hide the snickers that seeped through my fingers. “Oh god, stop. The image of you with wings and pointy-toed shoes…it’s seriously making,” I winced as the tightness ensnared the lower half of my body, “it’s making…oh god, not again!” I latched onto his hand. The faint sounds of the monitor escalated into one long, continuous buzz.
“Shit, are you okay?”
The tightening continued and darkness blinded my vision. “Go get someone…now!”
The weight of the bed lifted as he ran from the room, the heavy wooden door slamming behind him. With both hands gripping the hand rails, a sudden and intense pressure forced my knees together in protest.
Oh god, no…not yet.
Tears stung my eyes and I silently prayed for a miracle.
***
An hour later, I’d managed to doze off when a barrage of hands descended upon me.
“Dilated between three and four. Side shift for forty-five minutes until the fetal monitor stays above the second tier. After that, we’ll start the Pitocin and deliver within the hour.” Snapping off his glove, he walked toward the door.
Every nightmare imaginable ran through my mind. “Wait, what does that mean?” I glanced at Ryker and silently begged him for help. The doctor opened the door, and Ryker’s hand shot out, blocking his way.
“Get out of my way, son. I’m needed on another floor.”
“She needs you here,” Ryker countered, his jaw tightened defiantly.
“I have competent nurses who can take care of your wife. Please move.”
Without bothering to correct him, Ryker shifted his body in between the door and the doctor. “She asked you to explain. Man, can’t you see she’s scared to death?”
The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Miss Ryan, you’ve progressed to four centimeters. With that last contraction, your baby’s heart rate decelerated so quickly, it set off an alarm. Too many of those concern me, especially with the premature age of the fetus.”
Ryker broke in impatiently. “What does that mean?”
“Resting on her side will take the pressure off and hopefully alleviate the danger.” He glanced at me. “At that point, we’ll adopt a wait and see method. When you arrived, we gave you a shot of Betamethasone to mature the baby’s lungs. We also started a round of magnesium sulfate to slow your labor.”
“What happens if the drugs don’t work?”
