Page 180 of Unruly

“Cross!”

“W-what? Jesus, what?”

His grumbled, sleepy voice filtered into the bathroom. Catherine clenched her eyes shut and breathed her way through another round of pain. She couldn’t even speak through the damn things. They had come on so quickly.

She wasn’t finished preparing for the baby.

The clothes weren’t put away. The crib wasn’t put together. Her baby shower was a week away, yet. It was too early—a whole month early.

The baby didn’t seem to care at all.

“Catty,” Cross called from inside the bedroom, “are you okay?”

“No,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Get in here.”

She had woken up in the middle of the night with an ache in her back that felt like someone was sticking a hot knife against her spine. She hadn’t thought anything of it, the bed wasn’t wet, and she wasn’t having any kind of pain other than that one strange ache.

Certainly not contractions.

Cece’s pregnancy and birth had been textbook, as far as Catherine was concerned. Every single little thing the books talked about would happen, happened. Contractions started at far spread intervals. She labored for hours upon hours like that, until they finally became closer together and more intense. The doctors only wanted her in the hospital when the contractions were less than three to four minutes apart. The doctor used a strange looking hook to break her waters. She got a nice little epidural that took away the pain. She pushed for a bit, and Cece was born screaming.

Yeah, textbook.

Apparently, this birth was not going to be the same.

Another wave of pain hit just as Cross came into view in the bathroom doorway. His disheveled appearance spoke to how hard he had been sleeping because the man looked good rolling out of bed first thing in the morning. His wild eyes searched for her, and found her in a full bath of what had been hot water.

It was now lukewarm.

“What—”

“Baby is coming,” Catherine told him.

Cross’s hands pressed to the doorjamb on either side of him. Leaning forward, he simply stared at her like he didn’t understand the words coming out of her mouth. “Are you sure it’s not those fake contractions?”

Another contraction started then.

Catherine had been counting.

Thirty seconds apart was now twenty.

“Cross, I swear to fucking God, get me out of this goddamn tub right now.”

Every single word came out strained, high pitched, and desperate. She couldn’t even be mad that he didn’t see how much pain she was in because all she could do was clench her fists, grit her teeth, and breathe. Nothing helped, anyway.

“Holy shit,” Cross mumbled. “You didn’t want to wake me up and let me know you were having contractions, or what?”

“I wasn’t having contractions, Cross,” she snarled at him. “I was having a pain in my back. I thought a hot bath would help. I fell asleep, and then woke up when contractions actually started. The water was a little cloudy—I knew my water broke. There wasn’t even really a minute between the contractions. I called for you five fucking times!”

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Catty.”

“Get me out of this bathtub!”

“Okay, okay, okay.”

His repeated chant did not help her in the slightest. Catherine squeezed her eyes shut once more as the peak of the contraction hit. Like a wave, it rushed in, gained pressure to its most painful point, and then began to taper off.

She barely felt her husband’s arms wrap her into a tight embrace as he yanked her dripping wet from the bathtub. By the time the contraction started to wane, Catherine opened her eyes to see the bedroom ceiling staring back at her.