He patted my back. “You’re going to be fine.”
But Corabelle was in a fury. “Do you not realize the situation we’re in? This baby is NOT DUE. We have a PREMATURE INFANT. Get up there!” She pushed me toward the stretcher.
I dug in. I’d never seen her face so red, but I was not about to leave without Chance. “Back off, Cora,” I said. “Chance is coming with me.”
“Let’s get you ready to go,” the male EMT said. “We won’t leave until you say so.”
I didn’t trust any of them. I backed away, shaking my arms to get myself loose. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t make me. I can refuse transport. I know how this works.”
“Ma’am, you do not want to have a baby in a concert arena,” the male EMT said. “Let’s get you up. We’ll collect your husband.”
Oh my God. He wasn’t my husband. Not yet.
“We have to get married!” I said. “Now!”
“You’re in labor!” Corabelle said. “There’s no time for that!”
The contraction was long gone, so I flailed like Kermit the Frog. “Like hell this baby is coming before I have a marriage certificate!”
Corabelle’s face was bright red now. “I really think you need to focus on the baby.”
“I really think you need to back off!” I was being mean and confrontational, but God, the pain. Even with the contraction gone, my back was killing me. My whole body was revolting against the onslaught of unfamiliar muscle clenching.
Todd whipped around to us, the radio to his cheek. “Chance is on his way. They cut the set short.”
“Will you get on the stretcher now?” Corabelle asked.
I didn’t think I had a choice. The pain rolled through me like a tsunami, taking all my strength with it. I listed forward and the two EMTs caught me in their expert arms, lifting me up and onto the gurney.
Lying down was bliss, pure bliss. With no contraction, and no need to stand, everything collapsed inward. I actually fought sleep for a second, like I was passing out.
The EMT strapped a blood pressure cuff to my arm. I stared at the white rectangles on the ceiling. I realized for the first time that the concert noise had stopped and piped-in music had taken over. Chance would be here any second.
As if on cue, the door slammed open, smashing against the wall. “Jenny!” Chance shouted, careening across the room to lunge against the stretcher. “What happened?”
“I think I got a little too excited,” I said.
“She’s in labor,” Corabelle said. “Seven minutes apart.”
His beautiful eyebrows shot up. I stared at him like he was a mirage. Everything seemed fuzzy on the edges.
“Blood pressure is 180 over 115,” the male EMT said. “That’s high. Let’s get her out the door.”
The stretcher began to roll. I kept my gaze on Chance, jogging alongside us. An earbud was still clipped to his back collar. I reached for it, but my arm was rubbery. I was so tired. I bumped along as they wheeled me down the empty backstage hallway.
But the minute we pushed out the back door and into the cool evening air, I was revived. All the color flooded back and the hard edges returned and I realized — I’M HAVING A BABY AND NOT A WEDDING.
I tried to sit up and realized I was strapped to the gurney. “Stop!” I shouted. “I’m not having this baby today!”
“Darling, I don’t think you have a say in the matter,” Chance said.
We continued rolling toward the boxy yellow and blue EMT vehicle.
“No!” I said again, trying to find the buckles that held the straps in place. “I’m getting married first!”
“Jenny,” Chance said, taking my hand to stop me from unlatching myself. “We didn’t exactly do things the old-fashioned way. We’ll have the wedding.”
“Nooo,” I said, imploring him with my eyes. “I know what happens in there. They’ll put my last name on the baby’s crib. For our whole lives, those pictures and documents will show that he was a Gillespie first and a McKenzie second.”
I didn’t cry much, but tears definitely spilled out of my eyes then. I meant it. I should never have waited so late to have the ceremony, but Chance and I had barely met when I got pregnant. We weren’t sure about the marriage part until a couple months ago. I’d done things as fast as I could.
“Can you call the JP we hired?” I asked Chance. “See if he can come now?” We’d arrived at the ambulance and the EMTs were opening the doors.
Chance’s face was genuinely pained. “Jenny, he’s doing that other wedding tonight. Remember? He told us about it.”
More tears spilled out. “Then I’m not going anywhere,” I said stubbornly. “I’m not getting in the ambulance until we have somebody to marry us.”
Todd caught up with us, still holding the stolen security radio. “Dylan’s ordained. Remember how he married that Kardashian?”
I grabbed Chance’s collar. “Get Dylan. NOW. We already have our license. We just need someone to do it.”