“Emma?” Hands shaking as I locate his number and pull the cell to my ear, stomach doing a nosedive. Eyes on her incredibly calm face and falling into the first stages of freak out.

“Don’t panic.” Emma smiles gently. “These things take hours; this is just a twinge, and I just want to be sure he’s here, in case it’s not.” She smooths a hand over mine on the table and yet moves her chair back so she can sit further down in it. I watch her tilt her head back and take some deep breaths as Jake’s cell seems to ring for eternity.

I chew on my lip, tap my foot harder and tap the table with my nail as it rings, and rings, and bloody well fucking rings.

Pick the fuck up!

“Sophabelle. What can I do you for?” Jake jokes down the phone and I practically sigh with relief at his voice. Typically playful, yet I’m on the verge of yelling at him for taking beyond an average amount of time to answer his goddamn cell.

Doesn’t he realize his wife is pregnant!

“Your wife requires your presence. Soon, like yesterday.” I gush down the phone, stomach in knots. I aim a worrying glance towards her, and I’m alarmed to see her panting; her hands splayed on her stomach and her eyes closed tight. Emma’s withdrawn internally and clearly no longer here with me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

superhuman speed. Gone is the jokey casual laid back Carrero, and instead, I get that serious tone. He sounds very much like ‘bossy asshole of New York’ and

my own anxiety and panic that she might drop a baby at any second and I am so not equipped to deal with this kind of shit at all. Emma is still sitting the same way, lost inside

guess, strangely cool despite it though. The thought of his beautiful girl in pain and not being here

to do.” I

care of my girl.” Jake is quick to make me feel calmer, something reassuring in his commands, something that snaps me out of child brain,

cut the call, putting the cell down with shaky hands and get up to move around the table to stand beside her. She opens her eyes when she feels my hands on her shoulder and tries for a smile. She doesn’t look like her; pale as hell, considering she is already light skinned, eyes wide and so much grayer today. She looks like someone who is handling a lot of agony and

the cozy,” she murmurs breathily, looking unsure and just not like Emma at all. “The pain is pretty severe and faster than I have ever had it. This is not how it normally goes.” She pants again,

I predict I would. Just calm and quiet, dealing with it internally. She is the picture of control, silently coping with ever whatever it is she’s getting, and when she lets out another breath, I let one out too. Like I’ve been tensely holding mine while squinting

an arm around her, mind on a focus and trying to get my shit together, for her, for Jake. Emma isn’t a big girl, besides the bump. She’s a little shorter than me and despite her curvy figure, she is quite petite. I’m not overly tall or built, but I am strong and athletic, and I am fairly sure I can get her up and mobile to a comfier room. I

this look so effortless and I internally scold him for his height and strength, and the lack of his presence. I have my arms around her back and hers on my shoulder, easing her slowly towards the kitchen door and away from the table, pushing chairs out of my way

muscle in her body tense and go rigid, the arm around my shoulder tightens mercilessly and her gasp and groan sets every one of my panic alarms off. Emma starts to pant, screwing her eyes shut again, and this time I know for sure that this baby is coming, whether we are ready or not. I will Jake, with the powers of the psyche, praying he can somehow feel the

seriously cannot handle this shit

mine, sheer pain, maybe panic, reflecting back at

bed. Jake’s coming, he’s on his way. He won’t be long.” I try to soothe her, but my voice is shaking crazily, and I have no idea what I’m supposed

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