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Dr. Sex-in-a-Scrub Maxwell.
He looks so madly sexy and handsome.
I’m going to die.
Literally. (I know, the word’s exhausted to the max, but damn, it’s happening!)
He doesn’t seem as surprised to see me as I am to see him. Then again, he likely had more than a couple seconds to realize what’s happening. He would have been told my name or seen my records or something before he arrived.
“Hey, Lizzie. Hey, Pippa, if I remember correctly? You’re Lizzie’s friend from school? We met a few times, I think,” he says as he enters the room. “What a pleasant surprise to see you both here.”
The way he talks, it’s like he’s run into us at the grocery store, buying strawberries—not like he’s about to deliver my frickin’ baby.
His frickin’ baby.
He wears a face mask, so I’ve got no idea what his expression is, therefore, I’ve got no clue what he could possibly be thinking about the situation.
“Oh, hi, Doc,” I mutter softly, still in shock.
“Hi.”
“It seems you already know each other,” Nurse Ronnie says brightly. “See, Elizabeth. Now a stranger won’t be delivering your baby.”
Nope.
Not a stranger.
Just the father of my child who didn’t even know I was pregnant until this moment.
The doctor who’s going to deliver his own baby.
Pippa squeezes my shoulders to comfort me, but I’m spared from responding when another contraction, much worse than the others, hits me out of nowhere. As I yell in pain, Dillan comes over and kneels at the end of the bed to check my dilation.
“Good thing I got here when I did,” he says. “It looks like you’re going to be able to push soon. Pippa, keep an eye on her to make sure she keeps breathing.”
“Dillan—” I begin.
I’ve got no idea how I want to end the sentence. Thankfully, I’m spared from trying when Dillan cuts me off.
“Whatever you’re going to say, Lizzie, it can wait until later.” His voice is as steady and calm as ever, and it instantly puts me at ease. “Let’s just focus on taking care of this little one, okay?”
With no other choice and no energy to argue, I nod in agreement.
The nurses, who have been checking on me throughout the evening, gather around Dillan as he works. He gives them instructions under his breath, making sure to keep his attention on me the whole time. At one point, an oxygen mask is put over my face when it becomes apparent that I’m holding my breath through the pain.
After that, everything seems to happen in a blur. I’m too focused on giving birth to really think about anything else, and ever the professional, Dillan does what he does best. Delivers my child.
Our child.
I thought contractions were the worst, but really, it’s tied with pushing. Time drags on as I try desperately to deliver our baby. I’m sure I’m using some very colorful language during the process. At one point, I vaguely remember yelling. “This is a terrible way to make another human.”
“You’re almost there, Liz,” Dillan encourages me.
“You said that an hour ago!”
That earns a chuckle from him and the assisting nurses. The next thing I know, my blurry vision comes into focus on the face of the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen in my entire life. The baby isn’t crying though—its face is scrunched in the most adorably annoyed expression. I yank the oxygen mask off with shaking hands before reaching out for my child.
Dillan carefully places him in my arms.
