38. Karla
KARLA
“Myla!” The sound that ripped out of me didn’t even seem human. It was half-yelp, half-groan, full panic. A sharp pain shot through my entire abdomen like someone was wringing my uterus out like a wet rag.
“Oh my God—Myla!” I grabbed my gigantic belly with both hands as the pain finally subsided. Not gone. Just lurking. Waiting. Like a tiger in a bush thinking, I’ll wait… but she’s mine.
It’s time.
She’s coming.
My heart flew into my throat so fast I couldn’t swallow.
I immediately reached across the bed and shook Myla’s shoulder with the strength of a woman about to birth a baby with no partner present. “How the fuck do you sleep so damn hard?” I yelled directly in her face.
She jolted, blinked, then—“What?” she mumbled, rolling over like she was waking up from a peaceful Sunday nap.
Jordan groaned from the other bed. “Are you okay?”
McBee—God bless her—leapt out of bed like someone had shot a starter pistol. She smacked on the light switch and squinted at me. “Karla?” Her voice was drenched in concern.
I opened my mouth to reassure them, but instead—
A huge, unmistakable rush of water exploded out of me.
Like… Niagara Falls.
Between my legs.
Direct hit.
“Oh holy fuck!” I screeched, ripping back the soaked sheets as though they personally offended me. I tried to hoist myself up from the bed, but another wave of pain twisted through my middle so hard I saw a few dozen ancestors beckoning me from a glowing tunnel.
“The baby is coming.” My voice cracked with dread and disbelief. “This is fucking happening.”
My breaths came short and fast. I was a nurse. I knew what to do. I literally taught prenatal classes once a month. I knew every guideline, every stage, every warning sign.
None of that mattered.
Not a damn bit of it.
Because Lilly—my daughter—had decided she was coming three weeks early. And all that knowledge evaporated out of my brain the moment I saw that flood on the sheets.
Jordan scrambled across the room, hair flying wildly, and grabbed the hotel phone.
“What’s going on?” Myla asked again, rubbing her sleepy eyes like the world wasn’t imploding.
Jordan’s voice shot up two octaves as she shouted into the receiver—“We need an ambulance! My friend just went into labor and I think her water broke!”
McBee dropped onto her knees in front of me and took my hands. “How far apart are your contractions?”
I took a sharp breath in. “I think… six or seven minutes?” I grumbled. As if timed by the universe to make me look like a liar, another contraction slammed into me. My back arched; my breath hitched; my soul left my body and returned with groceries.
Myla’s eyes went wide. “That wasn’t six minutes, love. That was, like, sixty seconds. Let’s get you downstairs.”
“I can’t!” I struggled to slide to the edge of the mattress as everything inside me throbbed. “She’s trying to escape! I can feel her pushing on my kidneys!”
“Karla, sweetheart,” McBee soothed, “babies don’t use kidneys as exits.”
“You don’t know that!” I shrieked.
Jordan, now in her robe and full crisis-captain mode, shouted, “Go! I’ll meet you downstairs! I’m packing our stuff—they can’t charge us extra for fluids that came out of your body, right?!”
“I don’t know, ask the front desk!” My voice cracked mid-scream. “Thank you!” I grabbed Jordan’s hand and squeezed as she helped me up.
“Myla!” I started frantically spinning in circles, scanning the room. “Where’s my phone? I need to call Brayden. He needs to get back here—he needs to—oh my God what if the plane doesn’t have Wi-Fi?! What if he’s in the ocean?! What if he’s eaten by a marlin?!”
McBee snatched my phone from the desk. “Got it. He’s not eaten by a marlin, honey.”
“You don’t know that!” I cried.
With the grace and speed of a woman who had done this twice (but only in supporting roles), McBee shoved the phone into my hand while Myla—who was somehow fully awake and braiding her hair in thirty seconds flat—helped me shove my feet into my shoes.
My water was still dripping everywhere.
I had become a horrifying human garden hose.
“Call him!” Myla ordered as she steadied me.
I dialed Brayden’s number with trembling fingers.
It went straight to voicemail.
Of course it did.
“Hi, you have reached Brayden Cox. Please leave a message.”
Beep!
I screamed into the void, “She’s coming and you’re not here! Brayden! Our baby is on her way!” My voice cracked, something between terrified and furious. “You need to answer your phone!”
I hung up and nearly threw the device at the wall.
Myla grabbed my hand. Her grip was strong and reassuring. “I’ll keep calling all the guys until I get through, don’t worry. Let’s get you to the hospital before McBee has to deliver your little girl in the bathtub.”
“This hotel doesn’t even have a real bathtub!” I wailed as another contraction hit so hard my toes curled inside my shoes. “It’s one of those stupid shower-only bathrooms with the glass door and the rainfall showerhead that makes you feel like a wet chicken!”
“Karla, honey,” McBee cooed in that calm clinical tone she used when talking toddlers down from tantrums, “we’re not delivering anything in a bathtub or a shower. You’re okay. We’ve got you.”
I clung to her like she was life support as they maneuvered me into the hallway.
Myla threw her hands up to block me when a family stepped out of the another room. “Labor happening! Emergency! Look away if you’re squeamish!”
The dad ducked back inside like he’d witnessed a crime.
We shuffled toward the elevators—the two of them supporting me like I was a drunk baby giraffe. Every step hurt. Every breath felt wrong. My stomach tightened again, and I doubled over with a guttural groan that echoed through the hallway.
Jordan flew out of the room holding my suitcase, the zipper half-open and clothes spilling out. “I got everything! I think! Whatever! You can sue me if I forgot something important!”
“I’m not suing anyone!” I cried.
“You’re right, that was insensitive!” Jordan blurted. “I’m so sorry! I panic under pressure!”
“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Myla encouraged, squeezing her shoulder as we reached the elevator.
The doors opened just as I clutched my belly and whimpered. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You absolutely can,” McBee stated firmly. “Women have been doing this since humans were invented.”
“That’s not comforting!” I wailed through another surge. Sharp. Hot. Searing.
The elevator ride was excruciatingly slow. Every floor felt like a year passing.
My contractions were coming faster now. Harder. So powerful I couldn’t talk through them. A dull roar filled my ears.
“Oh God—oh God—oh God,” I chanted.
Myla fanned my face with the hotel information folder. “I saw this in a movie once! They did this in a limo!”
“We’re not in a limo!” I sniveled.
The elevator dinged, and we spilled into the lobby where the poor concierge took one look at me and sprinted away without a word.
The girls half-carried me toward the exit as another contraction seized my entire body.
“Where is the ambulance?!” Jordan shrieked into the air.
“We’re early,” Myla said. “Apparently being early is hereditary in this family!”
Everything felt chaotic and loud and bright. My back hurt. My legs trembled. My brain was on overdrive.
“This is happening,” I whispered. “I can’t stop it.”
“We’re right here,” McBee promised, rubbing my shoulder. “We’re with you. Your daughter is coming, but you’re not doing this alone.”
I clung to all three of them like my life depended on it.
And even in the terror—
Even in the pain—
Even with Brayden unreachable and somewhere in the middle of the damn ocean—
I felt love.
I felt supported.
I felt our girl coming.
The automatic doors slid open, cool night air rushing over my skin just as another contraction hit, knocking the breath out of me.
The girls anchored me on all sides.
Myla squeezed my hand. “We’ve got you, Karla. We’re not letting anything happen to you.”