I check the text.
Daisy Calloway (sociable and well-spoken, very engaging) needs to stop fidgeting during group conversations. 12 out of 14 love you. Great work, Daisy. – Dad
My stomach falls, and the small fight I had with Ryke now seems insignificant.
Ryke drops his phone in his lap and runs his hands over his face. “Fucking f**k…” He mumbles out more curses, and I notice that Daisy isn’t even paying attention to the texts.
“Are you okay, Rose?” she asks her sister.
Rose is pinching the bridge of her nose like she’s in pain, and Connor is rubbing her shoulders and whispering in her ear. Neither of them say a word.
I tell Daisy, “She’s probably about to cry because she knows your life is about to end.” It’s dramatic, especially for me, but maybe it’ll knock some sense into this girl.
“You all have things you love to do,” Daisy says. She braids her hair that’s now platinum-blonde, which pretty much resembles an alien to me. “I’m not giving up anything like you are.”
“That’s bullshit,” I say. “I’m not giving up a goddamn thing by being the CEO of Hale Co. I’ll still own Halway Comics.” I’ll just have twice the responsibility.
She’s nineteen, started modeling at fourteen. This girl has worked more in her lifetime than I f**king have—that’s the truth here.
Ryke adds, “You are giving something up, sweetheart. You’re sacrificing the thing you could’ve loved. One day you’re going to find it. Hale Co. isn’t your burden, and I’m going to be f**king sick if you take it.”
Daisy sips her water, mulling this over. We’re older than her. And I think she’s feeling it in this moment. She slouches, her green eyes flickering between us and then she lands on Ryke. “Who would you rather see be the CEO, me or Lo?”
“Neither,” he says immediately.
“That’s not a choice.”
He does look sick now. Like he’s going to puke or something. And I watch his face twist in pain as he contemplates each scenario. I pull at the collar of my white button-down, the suit jacket warm on top.
“Daisy, if it’s between you and me, he wants me to take it,” I interject. He needs to back me up, to have faith in me and to give Daisy a bigger reason to step away.
“I didn’t f**king say that,” he retorts.
Goddammit, Ryke. I grind my teeth, my hand shaking, and he catches the irrepressible jitter. I’m not going to drink. The words scratch my throat, itching to come out like I could scream every syllable. But it just stays an urge, a thought, and I wear the sentence on my face instead.
“Rose?” Lily says, worry spiking her voice. My head whips towards Rose, who has her eyes closed, color lost in her cheeks.
“I’m fine,” she says in a stilted voice. But she’s almost hunched over, and Connor’s hand tightens on her shoulder. “They’re false contractions.”
Jesus Christ. “You’re having contractions right now?” This entire time?
“They’re false,” she emphasizes, growling out the word, and her eyes snap open, just to shoot me the evilest glare. She blows out a long breath. “I have three more weeks until my due date. It’s too soon.”
Now I notice how Connor’s examining her movements, his gaze traveling across her body.
“Motherfuck…” She grips the edge of the leather seat and glances at the window. “We should be there by now.”
“You’re in pain and you’re still worried about being late to a dinner party?” I ask like she’s insane. She is. One-hundred percent insanity. I’m watching it.
“We’re still stuck in traffic,” Lily says to Rose, passing over my comment to keep her sister calm. “Do you need some water?”
Rose shakes her head a couple times. I really can’t tell if this is false labor or not. None of us have any prior experience as second-time fathers or mothers.
I watch Connor shrug off his suit jacket, maybe from the June heat. I lean over and try to speak through the limo privacy-screen at the driver. “Gilligan, can you turn the air conditioning down?” I ask. “It’s boiling back here.” Almost instantly, a gust of cool air blows out of the vents.
“Rose,” Connor says, impassive like usual, “put your legs on the seat for me.”
She’s pretty much doubled over now, clutching her knees that have broken apart. Shit. “It’s too early…” Her voice breaks in pain.
Connor doesn’t wait for Rose to comply. He seizes her legs and spins her so she’s lying along the stretched limo seat, adjacent to where we sit. My pulse races. This is not happening.
“Her water didn’t break,” I point out. This is not happening right now.
Daisy scoots behind Rose, propping her head in her lap, and she rubs Rose’s sweaty hair off her forehead. “It’s probably false labor,” Daisy says.
Lily is wide-eyed and slack-jawed, unmoving from her spot beside me. It’s more nerve-wracking when Connor says nothing, when he hides his emotions, leaving us to guess.
He rests one of Rose’s feet on his thigh, so she has room to open her legs. And then he covers her waist and lower half with his suit jacket, maybe so he can remove her underwear.
Ryke and I inspect the traffic out the window at the same time. The accident up ahead must not be cleared yet because we’re still barely inching forward.
“Connor,” Rose cries in pain—her face full of it. I’ve never seen her like this.
The floodgate to Connor’s emotions finally cracks, and I catch a glimpse of concern in his blue eyes. He reaches out, holds her hand tightly in his, and then glances between her legs. He keeps one palm on her bent knee. “I need someone to call 911,” he says to us.
Rose doesn’t even complain or put up a fight about it, which means she’s hurting badly right now.
“I got it,” Ryke declares, dialing the number in his cell. While he starts speaking to the operator, I talk to Connor.
“Her water didn’t break,” I mention again. “That has to mean this is—”
Rose screams, like a horrific, blood-curdling scream. Connor’s grip tightens on her, as though he’s holding her life in his hands. The terrifying thought: he just might be.
Lily is shaking, and I hug her closer to my chest, wrapping my arms around her body, and placing my hands flat on her belly.
“I want…an epidural,” Rose demands, hot tears rolling down her cheeks.
Connor rubs her knee and squeezes her hand. “We both know it’s too late for that. You probably broke your water in the shower this morning…” He checks his watch. “Around six, and you didn’t realize it.”
It hits me. She’s been in labor for fourteen hours already. Thinking each tiny pain wasn’t the real thing, not until right now.
Rose sits up more, leaning against Daisy’s chest, and she clutches her legs. “Connor…” The fear in her voice rings through the limo, chills biting my neck.
He cups her face, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I won’t let anything happen to you or our child. You’re going to be fine.” I can tell that he’s partly convincing himself.
He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, but intelligence has its limits. I feel like I’m watching one.