65. Birdie

Confession: Everything I know about childbirth comes from a college textbook and Gray's Anatomy.

"I leave for one day and you get an apartment?" Mara asked as we sat at her table, eating the spaghetti supper I made for us to celebrate.

I twirled spaghetti around my fork. "It would have been better if I'd gotten a job, but I'll take it."

She frowned. "You know I'm going to miss living with you. This was just like old times."

"Me too," I said with a small smile. "But you'll be thankful when you bring a guy over and you won't have to coordinate with me." I drew my eyebrows together. "Mara, it's been a while since you brought anyone over."

She finished chewing and swallowing her bite. "I just haven't met anyone worth messing with."

"What do you mean?"

With a shrug, she said, "I don't want to bring a guy over for the sake of bringing a guy over. I want it to actually be a good time, for both of us."

I raised my eyebrows. "Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?"

She held up a meatball on a fork. "Don't worry, I still like meat."

"Good," I teased. "How else would you write romance?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I feel like a fraud, writing all these love stories when I've never experienced happily ever after."

"You can dream, right? How are you supposed to know what you want if you can't imagine it?"

"Oh my gosh," she said with a smile. "You and your grandpa have superpowers."

"Did you get to talk to him today?"

"Yes." She grinned. "We had two cups of coffee, and he told me all about how he and your grandma met. They're seriously the sweetest couple ever."

"I know," I said. "Whoever I end up with has big shoes to fill."

"Exactly. Don't ever settle for someone like Dax again. Or the ‘suit,' as your grandpa calls him."

I chuckled and held out my pinkie. "And promise you'll do the same?"

She hooked her finger through mine. "Promise."

We shook on it like we were young again, but my phone rang loudly from my purse, interrupting us.

"I better go get that," I said. "It might be a job."

"Go, go," she replied. "All this talking is distracting me from eating."

I chuckled, rising from the table and going to the living room, where my purse hung on a hook by the door.

When I looked at my phone, it was a call from Doug. As soon as I answered, he said, "Birdie, Anthea's in labor."

"Where?"

"RWE Memorial."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." I hung up and leapt to action, running to the kitchen. "Anthea's having the baby!" I cried.

Mara got up. "What can I do? How can I help?"

I shook my head. I realized I had no idea what to do at a time like this. Would I get there and see a precious baby, or would it be hours of waiting? Did I need a book? A computer?

"I've got it," I said, hurrying to grab my purse with my tablet and charger. That was close enough. "I'll call you when there's a baby!"

She clapped excitedly. "See you later, Auntie."

The word brought a smile to my face, and I wore it all the way to the hospital. I couldn't wait to see what my niece would look like. How Anthea and Doug would be as parents. I hoped my parents would be more affectionate and loving as grandparents than they had as parents. Baby-girl-to-be-named deserved it.

As soon as I got to the hospital, I parked and ran inside, looking for any sign of the maternity wing. A nurse pointed me to the third floor, and I rode the elevator up, eager to see what was happening.

When I reached the waiting room, I couldn't see my parents, so I went to the nurses' station and asked for Anthea Melrose.

"Three thirty," she said.

I thanked her and looked at the plaques on the walls, following the numbers to the right room. I couldn't hear screaming anywhere, like I'd expected in the maternity ward, but there were couples walking around, checking in, hushed noises behind closed doors.

The door to Anthea's room was cracked, but I knocked anyway.

Doug's face quickly appeared, and he pulled me into a hug.

"Hey," I said gently. "How's it going?"

He stepped aside, letting Anthea answer.

She had cords and monitors strapped all about her body, but despite the situation, she looked beautiful with curled hair and perfectly done makeup.

"My water broke at dinner with a client and her husband, so I'm absolutely mortified," Anthea said. "I'm five centimeters dilated, my back hurts, and they haven't given me an epidural yet. Does that answer your question?"

I chuckled softly, then covered my mouth. I didn't want her to think I was being insensitive. "What can I do? How can I help?" I asked, echoing Mara earlier.

"I can't eat," Anthea huffed. "So nothing. But when this is all done, I want the greasiest cheeseburger and fries you can find."

"You got it," I said, going to her and sitting by the bed. "Is your mom or sister coming?"

Anthea rolled her eyes. "My labor interrupted their nail appointments. They'll see me and the baby at the house when I'm ready."

I nodded, twisting toward Doug. "Mom and Dad?"

"On their way."

A funny thought crossed my mind. "Can you imagine them in the waiting room?"

Anthea snorted. "Your mom will have the décor updated and the coffee upgraded before the baby even gets here."

"True," I said, giving her a hug. "I know you're going to do amazing."

Doug said, "Do you mind if I duck out for a minute to use the bathroom?"

"There's one here," I pointed out.

He and Anthea exchanged a glance.

"Go ahead," Anthea said. "I'll call you if I'm crowning."

Doug rolled his eyes and left the room.

"What was that about?" I asked.

Her laugh was a little embarrassed. "I told him if he stinks up the room while I'm giving birth, I'll make him change every diaper from now until she's potty trained. The baby and I are the only ones allowed to shit in this room."

I laughed. "Fair enough."

She shifted, then adjusted her gown and reached for the remote. "Want to watch something?"

"Sure. Whatever you want."

She winced and began taking deep breaths. A line on one of the monitors spiked, and I leaned forward, worried. "Are you okay?"

"Contraction," she gritted out, squeezing the railings until her knuckles turned white. "If that damn anesthesiologist doesn't get here soon..."

"I can ask the nurses?" I offered.

She shook her head. "Doug's already asked three times. He's on his way—allegedly." Her body visibly relaxed, and the line on the monitor went down. "Maybe we can watch the news. Seeing someone else in a worse situation might make these contractions not as bad."

"Makes sense to me," I said, watching as she flipped the channels on the TV. When she landed on the news station, my mouth fell open.

"What?" she asked.

I pointed at the screen. "That's Emerson Academy."