And my husband is most likely hovering above in a plane, anxious to land so he can get to the hospital.
“I feel like I’m in a really bad movie. Some stupid sitcom where everyone is supposed to find this funny,” I mutter, snagging the remote out of Owen’s hand and turning the television off. “I can’t take it.”
“I’ll watch it out in the lobby,” Owen says solemnly, his expression stoic. “I’ll wait out there. Let me know if you hear from Drew, okay? Send me a text or something.”
“You do the same.”
He leans over and kisses my cheek, then ruffles my hair much like I used to do to him when he was younger and shorter than me. That was a long time ago. The memories flood me of a bedraggled Owen, dressed in clothes from the local Goodwill, his jeans too high, his shoes worn out. Wishing so hard his mom cared about him, while I was bitter and desperate to get out of there.
I ran away when I was fifteen or sixteen, I can’t remember now. I tried my best to escape and I didn’t plan on looking back. I had a stash of money I’d saved for myself, keeping ten bucks from the grocery money Mom gave me every week since I was the one who did all the shopping. She was too busy drinking and sleeping with her variety of boyfriends.
So I left. Snuck out in the middle of the night, hopping out the window of our apartment and eager to flee my prison. And I immediately felt guilty for leaving Owen behind. I couldn’t let her raise him. She was already doing a piss-poor job and I knew if I was gone, he didn’t have a chance.
I went back. For Owen. I raised him. He’s more mine than he was ever Mom’s. I love him, and I’m treating him like a pain in my ass because I’m in labor and missing my husband and scared.
“Owen.” I grab his hand to keep him from leaving me, and he turns to meet my gaze, his expression questioning. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being a bitch.” I don’t try to candy coat it because it’s true. I’ve been a total bitch and it’s not fair.
“You’re in labor.” He shrugs. “That shit can’t be easy.”
I laugh, then grimace when another contraction stretches across my stomach. I squeeze his hand tight and he lets me, never saying a word of protest. “Thank you,” I finally say when the contraction passes. “For everything.”
“I should say the same to you, Fabes.” His voice is quiet, his eyes full of a mixture of sadness and love. “You’ve always been there for me. You’re going to be a great mother. You already are.”
Tears shimmer, blurring my vision. Looking at him, how great he turned out, pride suffuses me, making my heart grow. I’m so proud of him. He’s not perfect, but who is? I told him to apply to Stanford. They have an excellent football team and he could’ve got in. Bonus? He could have moved closer to us.
He chose to go to the same college that Drew did instead. He wants to stay home. I think he’s afraid to live. I also think it’s a mistake but it’s not my life, it’s his. That means where he goes to college is ultimately his choice. He’s still a kid. He’s allowed to make mistakes.
But he was never my mistake. He’s my little brother, the kid I raised and took care of and never abandoned. I’m a better mother than our mom ever was.
For the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I feel like I’ve got this. I’m going to be a mother. This little girl is going to be coming into the world sooner rather than later and I’m ready.
Owen’s right. I’m going to be a damn good mom, too.
Chapter Ten
Drew
I’m not only being tested, I feel like the entire world is against me, a giant obstacle in my race to get home and be with my wife when she gives birth.
Getting a flight back to San Francisco was easy. Too easy. I paid for my first-class seat and waited only a few minutes before boarding the plane, relaxing in the soft, oversized leather seat, refusing anything to drink from the flight attendant beyond a glass of water. I’m anxious enough. I don’t need liquor or caffeine flowing through my system to make it worse.
A woman sat next to me who’s a total Cowboys fan and she recognized me, giving me grief about being a 49er. I listened to her at first, trying my best to nod and be polite, but after her constant nagging of my team—and my game play—I pulled my earbuds out of the front pocket of my jeans and plugged into my iPhone, listening to music so I could tune her out.
I might have offended her but I don’t give a shit. She was rude first.
It was her audible gasp about an hour later that had me yanking out my earbuds to hear an announcement being made by the captain. A cargo plane had crashed on the runway in San Francisco. All runways had been shut down. SFO wasn’t allowing planes to land. We’d circle in the air for a few minutes and might be diverted to another airport.
I couldn’t f**king believe it. I wanted to stand and shout, But my baby is being born, damn it!
I held it in, though. I couldn’t make an ass of myself. I’d already offended the lady next to me. In fact, she was looking at me oddly right now.
“Are you okay? We’ll probably end up landing in Oakland or whatever,” she said reassuringly. “Though I hate those damn Raiders.”
I laughed because of course, I ended up sitting next to the one football fanatic in the entire plane. “I’m fine, it’s just …”
“What?”
“My wife is in labor.” I exhaled, but it didn’t loosen up the ball of anxiety in my chest whatsoever. “And I need to get to the hospital so I can be there when the baby’s born.”