“Tell that to the fetus.”
“Okay, um, crap,” I mutter, my mind racing. “It’s going to be okay. We’re just, um… crap.”
“Gemma, I’m the one in labor. Calm yourself.”
“Sorry, sorry!” I wince. “Have you called an ambulance?”
“No, I called you.”
“But… shouldn’t you call an ambulance? I mean, I can drive you, but what if you go into heavy labor while we’re caught in traffic in the tunnel or there’s some kind of natural disaster on the way to the hospital, and I have to deliver the baby in the backseat, on the side of the highway? What then, Chrissy?”
Silence blasts over the line. “Let me get this straight. You want your pregnant best friend to ride alone in an grimy ambulance to the hospital, holding a squirming one year old, when she hasn’t even started having full contractions, yet?” she asks finally. “You’re kidding, right? You better be kidding.”
“Totally kidding,” I agree, grimacing at my own stupidity. “I’m on my way.”
“Great.”
I blare my horn as I swerve into the exit lane, toward Chrissy’s neighborhood. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Shelby isn’t far, either — we were just atCrumble, so—”
“You bitches got cupcakes without me?” Chrissy’s voice is outraged. “And you weren’t even going to bring me a one? I’mpregnant!Not just pregnant, either. I’m inlabor!”
“Technically, we didn’t know you were in labor—”
“But youdoknow their Red Velvet is my favorite!”
“Chrissy, there’s a baby currently coming out of your womb. Please focus.”
“Whatever,” she grumbles. “Just call Shelby. One of you will have to keep an eye on Winston, while I do this thing.”
Only Chrissy would refer to giving birth asthis thing.
“How far out is Mark?”
“He’s in San Diego, for a conference. He’s hopping on the first flight back, but he won’t land for at least six hours.”
“Damn.” I swallow. “Just breathe, Chrissy. I’ll be there before you know it.”
“I’m breathing just fine.”
“Good, well… keep doing that.”
She snorts. “You know what would’ve made this day a helluva lot better?”
“What?”
“A red velvet cupcake.”
I roll my eyes and hang up, immediately hitting a button to dial Shelby. It rings once, twice, and then her voice is snapping over the line.
“Miss me already?”
I cut right to the chase. “Chrissy’s in labor.”
“Crap.”
“That’s what I said.” I merge lanes erratically, cutting off a taxicab in the process. He lays on the horn and flips me off, shouting a loud, Bostonianfaaahhk youfor added emphasis.
Oops.