“I think so.”

Shit. I’ve been preparing myself for this for months but I’m seeing there is no being prepared. “When did they start?”

“About an hour ago.”

An hour? How did I sleep through her being in pain for that long? “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I was waiting to see if they went away. I didn’t want to get you up if it was false labor.”

Laurelyn’s selflessness can sometimes get her in trouble. “You have an incompetent cervix. Dr. Sommersby told you to not wait around if you thought you were in labor.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea to wait any longer because the last couple of contractions were really bad.”

I’m out of bed and at her side to help her up. “Will you help me change into my yoga pants and a T-shirt?”

“Yeah. Where are they?”

“Second drawer, right side of the dresser.”

I dig through the drawer. “The black or gray ones?”

“Black.” I shove the others back in, not caring if they’re neat or not.

“Which top?”

“The cream and silver striped V-neck.”

I help her dress and then she goes into the bathroom to brush her teeth and fix her hair. When she finishes, she sticks her head out. “I’m going to use the bathroom and then we can go.”

I’m sitting on the bed with her bag in my hand when she calls out for me. I open the door and she’s sitting on the commode, her legs pressed together. “I felt pressure like I needed to use the bathroom. When I sat down, I felt something pop.”

She wrinkles her brow when we hear something dripping. She parts her legs to look. “That’s not pee—I guess my water broke. Whatever it is won’t stop coming out and I can’t control it.” Then it’s past time to go to the hospital. “Can you get a towel for me to put between my legs? It’s probably going to gush when I stand up.”

She places it between her legs and stands. “Eew, it feels like I’m peeing on myself. Get some more towels for the car because I have a feeling this is gonna keep coming.”

I don’t care about the car’s seat. “We can have it recovered.”

“It’s silly to ruin the leather by not protecting it with towels.”

I reach into the cabinet and grab a handful. “Fine, let’s just go.”

We get into the car and I notice her tensing and holding her breath every three or four minutes. “Just how much pain are you having?”

“What? Like on a pain scale?” she asks.

“Sure. One to five.”

She grimaces and air hisses through her teeth. “Four and a half.”

“What would classify as a five?” I probably don’t want to hear her answer.

“My leg being sawed off without anesthesia.” Nope. Didn’t need to hear that.

Shit. She’s going to be dilated a lot when we get to the hospital. That’s what Dr. Sommersby warned us about—a precipitous delivery. I looked it up when she used that word and it means the baby comes in under three hours from the onset of labor. She’s almost two hours into having painful contractions.

There’s no way my family can make it in time, so we’re going to be alone when the baby gets here. “I should call my mum and tell her so she can be on her way.”

“I’m getting admitted for sure since my water is broken, so I guess we can call people.”

I dial my mum and she answers on the second ring. “Is it time?”

“We’re on our way to the hospital now. She started hurting a couple hours ago and her water broke.”

“I’m on my way.” I hear the excitement in her voice. “Tell our girl to not have that baby until I’m there. I’ve been present every time one of my grandchildren was born and I don’t intend on missing this one.”

I don’t break it to my mum but I’m fairly certain she’ll miss this one. “I’ll tell her to squeeze her legs together until you’re here.”

“Tell her I love her, and this baby is worth every bit of pain she’s feeling.”

“I will. Love you, Mum.”

I end the call, knowing there’s no need to phone the rest of my family because she’ll do it for us. “Do you want me to call Addison … or your parents?”

She looks at the time. “It’s really early so I hate to disturb Addie and the baby if they’re sleeping. Let’s wait until a little later since she’ll depend on Zac’s mom to watch Donavon when she comes.”

It’s a sore subject but I have to ask. “And what about your parents?”

“I want Nanna and Pops to know, so I guess you can call them. But tell her I can’t talk if she asks for me.”

I dial L’s mum and it goes straight to voicemail. “Hi, Jolie. This is Jack Henry and I was calling to let you know Laurelyn is in labor and we’re on our way to the hospital so please give me a call when you get this message.” I hang up and glance at Laurelyn.

“My parents have very little place in my life now, and that’s fine. I’m okay with it because the McLachlans are all I need. I reconciled with that reality a while ago.”

“You’re one of us now and always will be.” I reach over and spread my palm over her stomach. “And this one too.” Her abdomen becomes rock hard beneath my hand and she grabs the edge of her seat, panting. “Whoa! Is that a contraction?”

She doesn’t answer but breathes in and out until her abdomen softens. “Yes.”

“Wow, that was really hard.”

“You think you’re telling me something I don’t know?” she asks.

“I guess I’m just surprised. I thought you’d have an epidural by the time it got this bad.”

“I wish. It feels like it’s in overdrive now.”

“We’re almost there, babe.”

Laurelyn is taken to an observation room where a nurse comes in to check her. It’s the same routine as always—glove on, hand disappears under the covers. “I’d call you every bit of six, almost seven centimeters, so we need to get you admitted to a labor room as soon as possible. Are you planning on an epidural?”

She looks at me questioningly. “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one hurting.”

“It would be different if I was one centimeter and was going to be in this kind of pain for hours, but I’m almost seven. I only have three more centimeters to go. I’m just wondering if I really need an epidural because I think I can do it without one.”