Drew + Fable Forever: A One Week Girlfriend Novella (13 page)

Drew helped, since he thinks I’ve turned into this weak woman who can’t lift a thing. I just let him pamper me. He put together the crib, which was a study in patience on his part. He sat in the middle of the floor surrounded by various parts for hours, cursing up a blue streak, frustrated beyond belief. I tried to help him, but he finally told me to leave because I was only making it worse.

He finally did get that crib put together. We hired someone to come in and paint the room. The players’ wives held a baby shower for me and they gave me so much amazing stuff for the baby, I started to cry. Right there in the middle of my shower.

I have turned into an emotional wreck, I swear.

The doctor just came in to examine me and said I was dilated four centimeters. I need to be up to ten. The hardest part of labor is coming, she warned. Considering those words just struck fear in my heart because oh my God, labor has been pretty difficult up to this point, I know I’m going to need Drew to get his ass here soon.

I need him to hold my hand and tell me everything’s going to be all right. I need him to stare into my eyes and let me focus on him and nothing else. I need him to kiss me and let me curse and be my rock …

The door bursts open and in walks Owen, looking frazzled, his hair a wreck as if he’s been wrenching it between his fingers. “Have you heard from Drew?”

“No.” I scowl at him. “Didn’t I tell you to stay the hell out of here?”

He rears back at my words. “God, you’re bitchy when you’re in labor.”

“You push a seven-pound baby out of your vagina and tell me if that makes you bitchy or not, okay?” I cross my arms in front of my chest, which is sort of impossible since my belly gets in the way.

“Damn it, Fabes, you just said the V word.” He shakes his head, looking completely traumatized.

I ignore his protest. I don’t have time for his whining. My tolerance level for Owen is at
about zero. I should feel bad because he did take good care of me and the kid is only nineteen, but still. My hormones and mood are both completely crazed. “Why are you back in here again?”

“I saw something on the news. They’re not letting planes land at the airport.” He pauses.

“Drew’s flying into SFO, right?”

I nod, unable to form words.

“I guess there’s some sort of cargo plane on the runway that caught on fire. No big deal, they put it out, but it’s pretty much shut down the airport while they clean it up real fast.”

“You’re kidding. Right?” Holy hell, he’d better be kidding. Though this isn’t the time for jokes, that’s for sure.

“I wish I were,” Owen says grimly.

I can’t even believe it. Drew was set to land at 4:10. He called with all his flight info right as he boarded the plane. Glancing at the clock on the table beside the bed, I see it is …

A little after four. Yeah. The timing on this is like a bad comedy.

“Hand me my phone, would you?” I left it on the table on the far side of the clock and since I’ve been having contractions, I haven’t been able to reach it. I need to just keep it by my side always. Drew will call me any minute, I hope.

Oh man, do I hope.

Owen gives me my phone and I check for texts from Drew. Nothing. I send him a quick one, asking if he’s all right and has he landed yet, but no reply. I check for a voice mail. Nothing. I call him.

No answer.

“Turn on the TV,” I say, waving my hand toward the television mounted in the corner of the room. “Put on the news or whatever it was where you saw the report.”

“Are you sure you want to watch it? It might just make you angry,” Owen says with a wince.

“Turn it on,” I practically growl and he grabs the remote, clicking on the TV without a word.

Owen finds the news report quickly, a reporter standing out in front of the airport, droning on about flights being diverted to other airports, Oakland or San Jose. Some of the planes are still circling in the air above SFO, hoping to land soon. It’s a giant mess, with the cargo plane still lying like a burned-out carcass in the middle of the runway, the giant yellow fire
engines everywhere with their sirens flashing.

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.

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 fucking 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.”

“Wait a minute. Your wife is in labor right now?” When I nodded, she continued. “And this is your first baby, right? I saw that on ESPN.”

“Yeah.” I rubbed a hand along my jaw as I glanced out the window. We were not going to land anytime soon, I could tell. We were too high up. “She’s been in labor all day.”

“Oh my word. She could have that baby at any minute!” She reached out and snagged the sleeve of the passing flight attendant. “Miss, do you know who this is?” She jerked a thumb in my direction.

The flight attendant glanced at me, a polite smile on her face. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Drew Callahan, quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers.” The woman said it loud enough for the entire plane to hear.
Jesus.
“His wife is in labor. She’s going to have the baby at any minute and he’s missing it!”

“There’s nothing we can do—” the flight attendant started, but my seatmate cut her off.

“Don’t give me that crap. Tell the captain to divert the plane to Oakland. We have a celebrity on this plane. Someone important to this entire city, and he needs to get to his wife so he can witness his baby being born.”

“Hey.” I touched the lady’s arm. “They’re doing what they can. It’s all good.”

“No, no it’s not. Tell the captain,” she said to the flight attendant, giving her a little push. “Go on.”

The flight attendant scurried away and the woman turned to look at me, a smug smile on her face. “See? That’s how we get things done.”

“There’s probably nothing they can do,” I reminded her, but she shook her head.

“There is. Trust me. We’ll make this happen. You’ll get to see your baby being born.” She reached out and patted my shoulder, seemingly forgetting that she totally ragged on me not even an hour ago. “You’re no Tony Romo, but you’ll do. And I can’t stand the thought of you missing seeing your first child come into this world.”

Crazy thing is, all her protesting and telling everyone who I was spurred the captain into gear. The entire plane was abuzz with the fact that a 49er football player was on the plane. The freaking quarterback who was trying to get home to his wife so he could be there for their baby being born. They all started grumbling and it worked to my advantage.

We landed in Oakland within twenty minutes. There was a car waiting for me, one I didn’t arrange for, but someone had. Whoever it was, I offered silent thanks as I hopped into the backseat and gave the driver the address. I was on the phone with either Owen or Fable the entire time as we moved quickly through traffic, which wasn’t easy considering it was rush hour.

See? The odds were completely stacked against me. Yet somehow, I made it. I got there in time. Even with Fable telling me she was dilated at nine centimeters and was starting to feel the urge to push, I told her to hold off as long as she could. I wanted to be there.

I
needed
to be there. To get so close and miss it would crush me. No way could I let that happen.

The driver drove like a bat out of hell, zipping through traffic and getting us to the hospital in record time. I gave the guy a two-hundred-dollar bonus, raining twenties on the front seat before I jumped out of the car with a hurried thank you and ran toward the entrance of the hospital. Owen had already told me what room Fable was in and I went to the elevator, practically hopping up and down while I waited for it to arrive.

This is fucking it.
Our lives are changing as we know it, at this very moment. We’re going to be parents. Our daughter is going to be born.

I’m so nervous and excited I can hardly stand it.

He made it. I’ve never been happier to see his face, to see his smile and smell him as he rushes into my room, coming right to my side so he can drop a kiss on my forehead and grab my hand. The doctor is there, accompanied by the nurse, and my legs are spread, my knees bent as I’m in position to get ready to push.

“You’re here,” I breathe as Drew kisses me and whispers that he loves me.

The doctor sends us a stern glance, her gaze flickering to the monitor that’s keeping track of the baby’s heart rate. “A contraction is coming. You need to get ready to push, Fable.”

I grip Drew’s hand hard and squeeze, bending forward, my chin practically pressing into my belly as I feel the contraction come on, big and strong. I breathe and push all at once, doing what the doctor told me earlier, trying my best to get this baby out of me.

I’m desperate to meet her. Hold her. Cuddle her close.

“Good job, baby,” Drew encourages, his mouth close to my ear. “You can do this. You’ve got this.”