Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
One part of me is relieved when we leave Mr. Anderson’s office and another feels bereft, as if I’ve lost something. It’s confusing but I don’t get time to think about it. Something is going on with Sarah. She contorts her face every few minutes.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She looks at me with fear-filled eyes. “I need you to call my husband. I think the baby is coming.” She gestures at her handbag and with shaking hands, I rummage through it.
Please don’t give birth here. I repeat this like a mantra. I wouldn’t know what to do. Then it hits me. We’re in a clinic. A fertility clinic. Sarah will definitely not give birth in the office when there are obstetricians a few floors down. That gets my breathing back to a semi-normal rate.
I finally locate her phone and pull it out. Sarah grips my arm.
“I can’t give birth here,” she says in a panicky voice.
My alert signals go off. “Why?”
“All these people know me, Olivia. I have to continue working with them. Can you imagine how it would be if they’ve all seen my vagina?”
Her words are so unexpected that I burst out laughing. “I think they’ll forget about it as soon as the baby is out,” I manage to say.
I stop laughing when I notice that Sarah is not even smiling.
She narrows her eyes. “Are you saying that my vagina is that unmemorable?”
Before I can respond, she grips my arm hard, and her eyes widen. She lets out a frightening groan. I can’t move. Not even to call her husband.
Mr. Anderson’s door opens. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“I think Sarah is in labor,” I tell him. “She wants me to call her husband.”
“Call Steve,” Sarah says. “He’ll take me to Eastside Medical Center.”
“Don’t be silly,” Mr. Anderson says and takes off his jacket. For a second, I think that he wants to do the actual delivery himself. Instead, he puts it on Sarah’s desk and then comes around. “We’re going to get you downstairs and they’ll take care of you. Plus, it will be on the house.” He chuckles.
She glares at him. “Not funny.”
I admire the relationship between them. Jace Anderson is obviously an awesome boss, if only I can get past this stupid attraction I have for him. He makes a call just as another contraction grips Sarah and I’m too busy panicking to catch what he says to the other person on the line. I move to her right side and help her to her feet. Mr. Anderson and I get Sarah to her feet and slowly make our way out of the office. She grumbles the whole way, insisting that she’s fine. That is until another contraction hits her. We stop and wait for it to pass before continuing our way to the elevator.
I’m still clutching her phone and when we are safely in the elevator, I make the call to her husband. He doesn’t answer and I shoot off a message to him, then pocket the phone. Thankfully, Sarah is too engrossed in her next contraction to notice that I didn’t speak to her husband.
The elevator stops and opens and right outside are two nurses with a wheelchair. I smile gratefully at Mr. Anderson. Sarah is bundled into the wheelchair and Mr. Anderson and I follow her all the way to the wards.
“We’ll take care of her from here,” one of the nurses says. “We’ll keep you updated, sir.”
“I’ve texted her husband, he should be here any moment.” I’ve never been so relieved to see the back of someone as I am to see Sarah being wheeled away. The double doors shut and Mr. Anderson and I are left standing alone.
There’s an awkward silence before he speaks. “You look like you’ve been through a wringer. Come one, let’s go have breakfast at the cafeteria.”
I protest but he hears nothing of it. He takes my arm and I have no choice but to walk with him. Heat burns where his fingers touch my skin. I tell myself that it’s the shock of the last few minutes. We walk to the cafeteria counter.
“Morning, Rosie,” Mr. Anderson says.
“Hey, Jace,” the plump woman with a white apron says, her face creasing into a smile. “What can I get you?”
“The usual,” Jace says. “What will you have?” he asks me.
“Just a coffee, thanks.”
He frowns. “You need more than coffee. Do you like muffins?”
I nod. My appetite is horrendous and if I could survive on coffee alone, I’d die happy. Food is not high on my priority of things to do.
“I’ll bring your breakfast to the table,” Rosie says and winks at him.
I’m a little shaken, to be honest, and I’m glad to sit down.
“I’m guessing this is your first time to witness a woman in labor?” Mr. Anderson asks kindly.