Chapter 69

“Emma?” Hands shaking as I locate his number and pull the cell to my ear, stomach doing a nosedive.
Eyes on her incredibly calm face and falling into the first stages of freak out.

“Don’t panic.” Emma smiles gently. “These things take hours; this is just a twinge, and I just want to be
sure he’s here, in case it’s not.” She smooths a hand over mine on the table and yet moves her chair
back so she can sit further down in it. I watch her tilt her head back and take some deep breaths as
Jake’s cell seems to ring for eternity.

I chew on my lip, tap my foot harder and tap the table with my nail as it rings, and rings, and bloody
well fucking rings.

Pick the fuck up!

“Sophabelle. What can I do you for?” Jake jokes down the phone and I practically sigh with relief at his
voice. Typically playful, yet I’m on the verge of yelling at him for taking beyond an average amount of
time to answer his goddamn cell.

Doesn’t he realize his wife is pregnant!

“Your wife requires your presence. Soon, like yesterday.” I gush down the phone, stomach in knots. I
aim a worrying glance towards her, and I’m alarmed to see her panting; her hands splayed on her
stomach and her eyes closed tight. Emma’s withdrawn internally and clearly no longer here with me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Is it the baby?” Jake’s voice changes with superhuman speed. Gone is the jokey casual laid back
Carrero, and instead, I get that serious tone. He sounds very much like ‘bossy asshole of New York’
and I instantly calm, knowing this version of him will be the one who gets here.



“Just come home. She needs you.” I have no clue what else to say, lost in my own anxiety and panic
that she might drop a baby at any second and I am so not equipped to deal with this kind of shit at all.
Emma is still sitting the same way, lost inside her own head and it’s clear as day to see she is breathing
through the pain. I have no idea what I should be doing right now.

“I’m coming, feet already homeward bound. Tell her I’m coming. I’ll be there in minutes.” Jake sounds
alien, panicked I guess, strangely cool despite it though. The thought of his beautiful girl in pain and not
being here with her. I know what he’s like; he will run like a crazy person if he thinks she needs him.

“Okay, just … you know. Hurry, cos I don’t know what to do.” I bite on my lip, breathing hard. My own
body starting to tremble.

“Keep her calm, get her comfy and just breathe slowly. I’m coming, Sophs, take care of my girl.” Jake is
quick to make me feel calmer, something reassuring in his commands, something that snaps me out of
child brain, and into adult brain.

I swallow hard and cut the call, putting the cell down with shaky hands and get up to move around the
table to stand beside her. She opens her eyes when she feels my hands on her shoulder and tries for a
smile. She doesn’t look like her; pale as hell, considering she is already light skinned, eyes wide and so
much grayer today. She looks like someone who is handling a lot of agony and being a champion in the
process.

“Maybe you could help me to the cozy,” she murmurs breathily, looking unsure and just not like Emma
at all. “The pain is pretty severe and faster than I have ever had it. This is not how it normally goes.”
She pants again, tensing under my fingers and screws her eyes shut again. She doesn’t move an inch,
seemingly holding it all together as best she can, and I am literally on the verge of crying.

I can’t help but watch in awe as she silently gets through it like a pro. No outward clawing, or screaming
hysterically, like I predict I would. Just calm and quiet, dealing with it internally. She is the picture of



control, silently coping with ever whatever it is she’s getting, and when she lets out another breath, I let
one out too. Like I’ve been tensely holding mine while squinting at her.

“Okay, I’ll try and get you up. Here.” I slide down and put an arm around her, mind on a focus and trying
to get my shit together, for her, for Jake. Emma isn’t a big girl, besides the bump. She’s a little shorter
than me and despite her curvy figure, she is quite petite. I’m not overly tall or built, but I am strong and
athletic, and I am fairly sure I can get her up and mobile to a comfier room. I aim to try, anyway.

I manage to haul her to her feet with a little gentle coaxing; an awkward balancing act as I totter with
her when I try to get her upright over her bump. Jake always makes this look so effortless and I
internally scold him for his height and strength, and the lack of his presence. I have my arms around
her back and hers on my shoulder, easing her slowly towards the kitchen door and away from the table,
pushing chairs out of my way with an extended foot as I shuffle backwards.

Emma stops mid-step and I feel every muscle in her body tense and go rigid, the arm around my
shoulder tightens mercilessly and her gasp and groan sets every one of my panic alarms off. Emma
starts to pant, screwing her eyes shut again, and this time I know for sure that this baby is coming,
whether we are ready or not. I will Jake, with the powers of the psyche, praying he can somehow feel
the vibes that his woman is in trouble here and gets his ass in gear.

I seriously cannot handle this shit alone.

“Number... In … my phone.... Midwife … please.” Emma pants through her words, eyes coming to
mine, sheer pain, maybe panic, reflecting back at me. “So .... Fast” She struggles to talk, her body still
tightly coiled, and we’re moving nowhere like this.

“Okay, okay. I can get it when we get you to the couch or a bed. Jake’s coming, he’s on his way. He
won’t be long.” I try to soothe her, but my voice is shaking crazily, and I have no idea what I’m
supposed to do. I’ve never been at a birth in my life, let alone watched anyone give birth. I managed to



dodge all the sex-ed classes in school, for obvious reasons, but right now, some insight might be
helpful.

Emma grasps my arm with her free hand and her eyes widen alarmingly, she turns to face me so fast
that I jump. It’s like an exorcist move without the vomit.

“Need to get down.... It’s … coming, Sophie… She’s coming.” Emma panting, breathing hard and I can
tell that she is as shocked by the speed of this as I am. Pretty sure Leila told me the twins took like a
day to come out, all violent, screaming, twenty-four hours of cursing Daniel, like a mental hoe. She
never tires of telling me that gruesome tale of vagina ripping agony, and right now I do not want to
picture that happening here.

“Okay, but on the kitchen floor? Really? Is that even hygienic? I thought this took hours?” I sound
childish, scared, body shaking as waves of cold and fear sweep through me and try my hardest to keep
my head. Mentally wondering how many house staff are here and who will come if I start screaming
crazily like my ass is on fire. The look of sheer dependency on Emma’s face right now, trusting me to
be her help, and be her rock, has me lifting my chin and silencing my mental breakdown. I can’t fall to
bits when she needs me.

“No choice...., Sophie... It’s … happening too fast, it’s too quick… I don’t know …” She trails off as more
pain hits her and this time she pulls her arms from me and reaches out to the nearest chair. Using the
back to lean on, she scoops forward into a bent pose and starts to pant again.

What’s with the panting? Does that help? Is that normal?

I stand behind her, rubbing her back and shoulders, freaking the fuck out inside and doing what my
mom did to Leila when she had pains. I’m willing Jake to come charging in the door, well, just for
anyone besides me to come help with this.



Emma seems to regain control, turning to me and grabs my wrist, a moment of focused clarity between
body ripping pains.

“Help me down onto the floor; I need to get my underwear off.” She eyes me with deadly intent, pretty
much meaning ‘Sophie, take my underwear off.’ And that crazy look on her face, of a woman in serious
excruciating torture, has me raising my brows with a smile and a ‘sure’, despite really wanting to jump
out of the window.

I somehow manage to help lever her down onto her back on the cold floor, yanking my handbag over
as a cushion, thanking Gucci for making slouchy bags that I tend to fill with enough crap to actually
warrant being used as a pillow, and I prop her in a less traumatic looking position. This is super
awkward.


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