He was not smiling. “She’s been in labor for almost twenty-four hours.”
“I know.” I smoothed a hand up and then down his arm, smiling at the uncharacteristic wrinkles of worry on his forehead. “From what I understand, it’s not unusual for labor to take longer with the first baby.”
“First?” he scoffed, shaking his head vehemently. “No. Last. We’re not doing this again.”
Desmond’s lips twitched and he sent me a tired yet thoroughly amused look.
Quinn gritted his teeth, his hands on his hips, clearly needing someone to rant to. “There’s no way in—”
Quinn’s tirade was interrupted by the far door opening suddenly and Elizabeth poking her head out. “Okay, Daddy. It’s time. You have three minutes to suit up if you want to catch a baby.” She moved to close the door, paused, and grinned at me. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
“Yay,” she exclaimed with feeling, then shut the door.
Quinn’s eyes swung to me, large and panicked. “What do I do?”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. So did Desmond.
But I also gave him another quick hug, pulling back and holding his face in my palms like my father held mine when I was a girl. “You’re going to go in there and meet your child. And then you’re going to kiss your wife and tell her how amazing she is. And then you’re going to thank the doctors and nurses for doing such an excellent job. And then you’re not going to worry, because you’re just going to enjoy your family. Got it?”
He nodded, swallowing, committing my instruction to memory.
I scanned the room, dropping my hands from his face, looking for what Elizabeth meant when she said suit up, and found a folded pile of blue hospital garments on a chair by the door. Picking it up, I helped Quinn into the gown, giving up on the buttons in the back. He was simply too big, so I did my best with the ties at the top and waist.
“Bend down,” I ordered, stretching the elastic of the hair covering wide so I could fit it over his head. He did as instructed, his face a stunned mask of disbelief and wonder.
Not three seconds later, Elizabeth appeared again and motioned for Quinn to enter. “Come on, come on. She’s got three pushes left.”
Quinn nodded numbly as he moved to the door, his usually steely blues now wide and rimmed with a plethora of emotions that looked completely alien to his typically stoic fa?ade. Anxiety, excitement, wonder, fear, and the anticipation of joy.
Folding my hands under my chin, I had to roll my lips between my teeth to keep from crying, not quite understanding the impulse. Desmond put his arm around my shoulders as we watched him go. And just as the door closed behind him, the other door burst open, Kat and Dan swiftly walking through it.
“We got the text and we hurried back. Is it over?” Dan came to a stop next to me, looking and sounding hopeful.
“No.” I shook my head, a happy tear spilling onto my cheek. “It’s just beginning.”
“It’s true. She planned the entire wedding.” Greg stood in the corner of Fiona’s hospital room, rocking from side to side, patting the bottom of his third child in a gentle rhythm. He was telling Matt the story of Janie’s wedding. Everyone was.
We—Greg, Fiona, their new baby, Dan, Kat, Katherine, Desmond, Matt, and I—were all crowded together in Fiona’s room. It wasn’t huge, but it was surprisingly large, with plenty of places to sit. When I’d remarked on its size, Greg told me it was the second of the two VIP postpartum maternity rooms. Quinn had arranged it, wanting Janie to have Fiona close by.
Janie, Quinn, and Desmond Sullivan III—their new son, named after both Quinn’s father and Quinn’s deceased brother—were next door, getting to know each other. Fiona, who looked more refreshed than anyone who’d just had a baby had a right to look, had invited everyone into her room for lunch.
The woman was a super ninja.
I swear.
Super. Ninja.
I was sitting in the chair next to Fiona’s bed. Dan, Kat, Desmond, and Katherine were sitting on the long couch under the window, and Matt was standing next to Greg, arms crossed, sneaking glances at the baby as though it were the ultimate curiosity. Or about to explode. One or the other.
Every time it moved or made a noise, Matt would ask, “Is it okay? What’s wrong?”
To which Greg would reply, “She can smell your fear.”
“How long did you have to plan that wedding, Marie? Two months? Something like that. A huge Boston wedding. Insanity.” Fiona shook her head at me.
“Hey. Katherine did a lot of the work,” I pointed out, avoiding Matt’s gaze. My feelings in chaos, I was barely treading water. I’d been avoiding him—his gaze, and just him in general—since I’d entered the room. “And Quinn’s ex-girlfriend helped find Janie’s dress.”
Dan snorted, shaking his head. “That lady wasn’t his girlfriend, they just used to fu—”
Fiona cleared her throat loudly, lifting her eyebrows meaningfully at Dan.
“Sorry. Sorry.” He held a hand up as though he surrendered and peeked sheepishly at Katherine.
Quinn’s mother smiled at Dan; Dan and Quinn had grown up together, therefore Katherine had known Dan his entire life. “It’s okay, Daniel. I think Des and I are ready for a nap. Come on.”
As she stood, she pulled her husband up as well. They made their rounds to each of us: Katherine handing out hugs—even to Matt, I noticed—and Desmond shaking hands with everyone but Fiona, Kat, and me.
After Quinn’s parents shut the door behind them, Dan said, “They were acquaintances. At best. I don’t think he even remembered her name.”
Kat was looking at him like he was hilarious, shaking her head.
His eyes slid to hers. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged.
“Didn’t you ladies used to call Quinn’s ladies slamps or something? I think I remember that.”
“That was Elizabeth’s shorthand for describing the dynamic between men and women who have lots of sexual partners. And she called Quinn a Wendell. She reads a lot of Urban Dictionary entries, I think.” Fiona, who was knitting, said all of this without glancing up.
Kat’s smile slipped and she glanced at her fingers, then pulled her left hand through her hair, something glinting off her third finger. “Where is Elizabeth, anyway?”
I squinted at Kat, my attention dropping to her left hand where it rested on her lap, and I had to suppress a gasp.
“Hopefully taking a nap.” Greg switched the babe from one shoulder to the other. “She worked a full shift yesterday and was up all night checking on us and Janie. I was going to have Matt take a look at her.”
“Why?” Kat asked.
“I suspect she’s a robot.”
“You think everyone is a robot.” Fiona shook her head at her husband.
“Matt should create a robot test,” Greg persisted. “You all have to take the test before you can hold the baby.”
“Is anyone thirsty?” Kat stood, picking up her empty soda can. “I’m going to go get another drink.”