Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Rob
This is the second time since becoming fire chief that I’ve turned into the driveway of the Charming Inn with the red lights flashing and two of my wheels barely in contact with the asphalt.
The first time, a call came in that a woman my mother’s age had taken a tumble on the stairs. It turned out to be a guest—and her only injury was to her dignity—but it took a solid two hours for my pulse to return fully to normal.
I think something is wrong with Nat. She’s in pain, I think. Can you come?
By the time I burst into the house and find Nat sitting peacefully on the sofa, I’m afraid I’ll need medical attention myself. I stand in the sitting room doorway, bag in hand, and try to assess the situation while I catch my breath.
Nat looks absolutely fine. Uncomfortably pregnant, but she’s smiling and I don’t see any signs of distress.
Sam is on the floor with his trucks, and there’s nothing wrong with him.
And then I look at Whitney. Her face is pale, and it honestly looks as if she just fought an entire war, single-handedly and unarmed. She’s on her feet, but weaving slightly, and I take a step toward her.
“Are you going to pass out? Your skin’s got a gray tint thing happening and I don’t think you’ve blinked since I got here.”
She blinks. Once.
Nat tries to laugh, even though she mostly holds her stomach and makes a pained sound of amusement. “Whitney pulled up a YouTube video on how to deliver a baby at home in case you didn’t make it in time.”
“In time for what?” I scowl at my sister. “You’re not actually in labor, are you? If you are, we’re calling an ambulance because I’m not going there.”
“I’m not in labor.”
“Aren’t you an EMT?” Whitney asks, some of her color returning. “Somebody said you’re a firefighter and an EMT.”
“I’m an AEMT, so can I deliver a baby? Yes, in an emergency. Am I going to deliver Nat’s baby? Absolutely not.”
My sister barks out a laugh. “He’s afraid of my vagina.”
“Oh, he’s not afraid of—” Whitney starts, and then her words choke off. She’s definitely got color back in her cheeks now. “You mean your vagina, in particular. Of course. Because you’re his sister—not just…in general.”
I’d tell her to stop talking, but the damage is already done. The look Nat gives me is loaded with amusement and speculation, and my life just got two hundred percent more complicated. My sister is currently adding two plus two and coming up with four and, sure, that’s the right answer, but I’d rather that math never came up in the first place. I’ll never hear the end of it now.
“I’m going to check your vitals,” I tell Nat in an effort to change the subject to anything but vaginas.
“I swear it’s just random Braxton Hicks contractions,” she says, trying to fend me off. “I’m absolutely fine, Rob.”
“I’m taking your blood pressure. The more you fight me on it, the higher it’ll be.”
She surrenders with a sigh and an unnecessarily dramatic eye roll. I check her over, paying more attention to her than to the numbers. She’s relaxed, her breathing is calm, and her blood pressure’s just fine. Her ankles look good. Even with her being one of the most important women in my life, nothing flags as remotely alarming.
I pack my equipment away in the bag. “Everything looks good, but you call me or Mom or literally anybody if that changes, okay?”
“Okay, but it’s just Braxton Hicks,” Nat tells me again. “And now that we’ve established that, you can relax and hang out with us.”
There’s no way I’m letting a very bored, very pregnant woman get a foothold in a matchmaking scheme. “I should get back. I was actually in the middle of something when the call came in.”
“Wait. You can’t go,” Whitney says, and there’s a very uncharacteristic pleading note to her voice. “You have to stay.”
“Nat’s not in labor and, like I said before, I was in the middle of something.” It wasn’t anything important, but it was better than being here.
“You can’t leave me here alone with a small child and an extremely pregnant woman who’s making strange noises while rubbing her stomach.” She reaches out and clutches the front of my shirt. “Maybe one of those I could handle, but I can’t do both. Or you can stay here and I’ll go finish whatever you were doing.”
“And if a call comes in, are you going to put out the fire?”
“Yes, I will. I feel a lot more qualified to be in charge of a fire scene than handling what was happening in that video.”
She’s so earnest, it’s hard not to laugh at her, but I do my best. Judging by the increased pressure on my shirt, though, I’m doing a bad job of hiding my amusement. Behind Whitney, Nat has her face pressed into a throw pillow, but her shoulders are shaking.
“Rob,” Whitney whispers, her head tilted back so she can pin me with her pleading gaze. “I know you deal with this kind of pressure every day, but I don’t and the stakes are so?—”
“I’ll stay.” Since Nat’s already figured out that math problem, I confirm it by tugging my shirt out of Whitney’s fist and then wrapping my arms around Whitney. She’s trembling and I hold her close. “Everybody’s okay, and I can hang out for a little while.”
After a moment, the shaking subsides, but she only buries her face harder against me. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I murmur into her hair.
“I overreacted. Like, wildly overreacted. I shouldn’t have texted you like that.”
While the text message had probably taken a year or two off my life, she shouldn’t regret asking for help if she needed it. “Listen, when we’re called to an emergency that turns out to be a false alarm, that’s a good day. What makes for the worst days is when people don’t call us because they think they can handle it or that it’s not that bad and they don’t want to look foolish, and by the time they call us, it’s too late. Even if we weren’t talking about my sister and the niece I haven’t even met yet, you did the right thing.”
I feel her stiffen slightly, as if she just realized we’re putting on a show for my sister—her boss’s wife—so I’m not surprised when she pulls away.
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Do you want something to drink? Or some cookies. And unlike your adorable nephew, I’ll actually let you eat them.”
We all laugh, breaking the tension in the room, and Whitney goes into the kitchen to pour me a coffee. I’m not surprised she’s barely out of sight before Nat is giving me her best nosy sister expression.
I shake my head. Not only do I not want to have a conversation about Whitney when she’s right there in the kitchen, but I have no idea what I’d even say.
Yes, I think Whitney might be the one . Actually, I’m almost sure of it.
No, I’m not going to say that out loud to anybody because Whitney has a life and a career she loves in New York City. I can’t ask her to give that up.
Natalie holds her hands out, palms up, in a silent demand for more of a reaction. I shake my head again and she scowls.
I’m saved from the probability she’s going to start using words when Erin walks in, bringing a blast of cold air with her. Considering the library isn’t supposed to be closed right now, I’m surprised to see her.
After slipping out of her boots and dumping her coat on top of the pile, she flops onto the couch next to Nat. “You don’t look like you’re in labor. One of our patrons said he saw Rob flying in here with his lights and sirens going.”
“Oh no,” Whitney wails from the kitchen, confirming my fear she’d be able to hear any conversation happening in the front room. “The whole town knows?”
“It was Braxton-Hicks, but Whitney wanted to be sure,” Natalie explains. Then she raises her voice. “And we appreciate her erring on the side of caution.”
“Always better to be safe than sorry when it comes to babies,” Erin agrees in a similarly loud voice.
When Whitney comes out with a coffee and a couple of cookies for me, my sisters have already pivoted to a discussion about the library’s float. Whitney sits in an armchair and when she meets my eye, I give her a smile.
To my relief, she smiles back. Her body language is relaxed, and it looks like she’s starting to see the humor in the situation, which is good. Putting up with the Byrne family requires a healthy sense of humor, plus I don’t want her feeling uncomfortable.
I’m only halfway through my coffee when my radio squawks and I have to leave in a hurry. But not so much of a hurry that I don’t pause at the door, listening to the sound of Whitney’s voice and laughter blending with my sisters’.