The Temporary Roomie by Sarah Adams

“Okay, I’ve got the popcorn, I’ve got the candy, Levi is asleep, and now we are ready to binge on—” Lucy breaks off when she looks at me. “What’s that?” She points to my face.

I clear my pinched expression. “Hmm? Nothing.”

Lucy cocks her head to the side. “It looked like you were in pain…”

“Did it? How strange. Oh, you know what? I farted. You probably just saw me when I was letting it out.”

“JESSIE ALEXANDRIA BARNES—”

I gawk up at her. “Is that what you think my middle name is?!”

Lucy puts her hands on her hips and stares down at me over the pile of junk food on the coffee table. I’m on the floor sitting cross-legged against the couch because this is the only way I’ve been able to get comfortable the last few hours. “I don’t care what your middle name is right now—”

“Jane.”

“You tell me right now…wait, Jane? Are you serious? Your full name is Jessica Jane? What was your mom thinking? It’s like the female version of Jessie James.”

I shrug. It’s always stumped me too.

She shakes her head, resurfacing from her mental detour. “Jessie, are you having contractions?”

I squint one eye and make a thinking face. “No. I’m fine. Let’s start the movie.”

Lucy shakes her head with an uh-uh sound and goes to grab her phone. “No. Nope. I’m not falling for it. I’ve seen these movies and the best friend gets tricked EVERY SINGLE TIME. I’m calling Drew.”

A humorless laugh falls out of my mouth. “Go ahead! But I’ve been trying for the last four hours, and I haven’t been able to get ahold of him since the pain started.”

Phone in hand and pressed to her ear, Lucy slowly turns to face me. Her voice is dangerous when she speaks. “Are you telling me you’ve been in labor for the last four hours and you didn’t tell me?!”

“I didn’t want to worry you if it was just a false alarm. They were super irregular at first…”

“AND NOW THEY’RE NOT?!”

“SHHHHHH. You’re going to wake up Levi!” And any astronauts currently on the moon.

“Tell me, Jessie.”

I sigh deeply, knowing the second I tell her the number, Lucy is going to bolt from the room for my go-bag. She knows exactly where it is because she’s been adding little things to it all night. At first it was a cute overnight bag I got off Etsy. It had a pair of PJs, an outfit for the baby, and a toothbrush. Now, after Lucy has gotten her motherly paws on it, it’s stuffed so full of random baby crap that she upgraded my bag to a full-on suitcase. I’m going to have to wheel it into the hospital like I’m headed to summer camp because it’s so damn heavy.

“They’re coming every five minutes now.”

Lucy’s eyes double in size and then yep, she’s gone. Her feet thunder down the hall and then she comes back with my go-bag (go-suitcase) clutched in her hand, a pillow stuffed under her other arm, keys in hand. She zooms up beside me and starts trying to hoist me up off the floor, but I don’t budge an inch.

“UGH. Come on, Jessie!! WE. NEED. TO. GO.” She’s really using all her strength to try to lift me by the armpits. Poor thing can’t move me. “Geez, woman. Have you been eating nothing but marshmallows and chocolate for every meal?”

I shoot her daggers. No, vipers. “Real nice, making fun of the pregnant woman’s weight while she’s in labor!”

She softens and pets my hair. “I’m sorry. I love you, you beautiful goddess.”

“Better,” I say, folding my arms. “Besides, you forgot your son! Were you just going to drive off without him?”

She gawks like OMG I would never! “No. I was just going to…get you in the car first and then go get him.”

“Mmhmm. Well it doesn’t matter because I’m not leaving.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not.”

Lucy sighs dramatically and sinks down to sit, throwing her hand over her eyes like she’s swooning on a 19^th-century fainting couch. “You’re going to be as difficult as possible tonight, aren’t you?”

“I resent that.”

I’m not being difficult. I’m just not going to the hospital without Drew. The plan was, I would go into labor and Drew would carry my bags to the car, and then together we would head for the hospital where he would hold my hand for the entirety of my birthing experience. Drew not answering his cellphone and being four hours away was NOT a part of the plan. It wasn’t. So I’m sticking to the plan.

“Drew will be back tomorrow afternoon. I’ll wait until then to have the baby.” I’m staring at the blank TV like a Zen master.

Lucy cracks up at this. “You’ll wait?! Oh my gosh, you’re looney! You’ve completely lost it!”

I narrow my eyes at her. “I don’t like you too much tonight.”

Lucy slides down on the floor beside me and takes my hand just as another contraction hits me. It’s so strong and painful I can’t believe this isn’t even the worst of it. How am I going to do this? OH, JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL!

Once I’ve thoroughly crushed Lucy’s hand, she gives me sympathetic eyes that make me start crying. She says, “You can’t wait, Jessie. I swear this baby will come out with or without your approval. Now come on, we gotta get you to the hospital. I’ll keep trying Drew and Cooper on the way.”

* * *

“WHERE IS HE?! I’M GOING TO KILL HIM,” I yell to Lucy in the hospital room during a contraction. I know, I know, never say anything in the midst of a contraction, but it’s like your brain short-circuits and you have no control of anything you say. I have a lot to apologize to Lucy for later. And the triage nurse. And the random lady in the elevator.

“I’m sorry, Jessie, I don’t know! I’ve been trying every two minutes. Just focus on your breathing and hold on to hope.”

I’ve been holding on to hope for two whole hours since checking in. It’s after midnight now and I’ve been trying Drew since five o’clock yesterday evening, and we still haven’t heard back from him. All I can reason is that he lost service while camping. Or he got eaten by a bear. Oh gosh, now I’m imagining Drew being eaten by a bear and I’m sobbing. I WANT HIM HERE!

“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” Lucy says, rubbing her hand in circles on my back. “Even if he doesn’t make it in time, everything is going to be okay. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

I squeeze her hand to silently thank her.

Jessie tries to distract me with every means possible: celebrity gossip, back rubs, stories I care absolutely nothing about from her stupid childhood (I’m just a little grumpy), and even a song and dance that is so ridiculous the nurse actually asks her to stop. Nothing works. All I can think of is my pain and my sadness that Drew is not here for this. I don’t even know why I want him here so badly. It’s not like he had anything to do with creating this baby. But somewhere over the past few months, Drew has completely stolen my heart and poured his love into me in such a way that I feel like this is his child too. Somehow I just know we are going to be together for the long haul, so I want him here for the birth.

The hours pass in agony and I don’t think Drew is going to make it. Around five in the morning, after about twelve hours of natural labor, my phone rings and Lucy answers. “He—”

“HOW DILATED IS SHE?!” Drew yells, so loud Lucy squeals and drops the phone.

“Pick it up!!!” I scream.

Through the speaker, I hear Drew also yelling, “LUCY! ANSWER ME DAMMIT!”

“OKAY! EVERYONE JUST SHUSH!” Lucy yells back. She tugs on the end of her shirt like she’s regaining her bearings and raises the phone, putting it on speaker.

“Where the hell are you, Drew?” I say, tears running down my cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m on my way! Our phones lost service, and one of the guys severely burned himself trying to start a campfire while he was drunk, so I had to drive him to the nearest hospital, which was seriously in the middle of nowhere and—never mind, I’ll tell you the full story later. All you need to know is I just walked out of the hospital and my phone buzzed with 42 voicemails and 80 texts, and I ran to the truck. Cooper is staying there with our friend and will drive him back in his car tomorrow.”

Of course. Of course this would happen! But even hearing his voice settles me a little. “How far away are you?”

There’s a small pause, and I imagine him grimacing. “Four hours. Less if I speed.”

I shut my eyes and let out a heavy breath. “You’re not going to make it, Drew. I’m eight centimeters dilated.”

“Don’t give up hope yet! I had a patient last week spend three hours going from 9 to 10 centimeters and then push for another hour! It could happen.”

“Are you hoping for that?!” I screech.

His low chuckle soothes me even through the phone. “No. I just…I love you, Jess. I want to be there. I’m so sorry I haven’t been there with you this whole time.”

I wipe my eyes, annoyed that the motion tugs the IV line tight. Lucy reaches out and holds my hand tenderly, and I decide it’s time to focus on the good. I have my best friend holding my hand and the man I love on the phone with me. I can do this.

“I love you too, Drew.”

Drew stays on the line with me the whole rest of my labor. Yes, as he predicted, it takes forever, but he still doesn’t make it in time for me to start pushing. Lucy stays with me and supports me the entire time, though, and Drew coaches me through the phone (much to my actual OB’s dismay). My poor doctor has to endure endless questions and obtrusive suggestions from Drew, telling her not to rush me, to not let me bear down too hard, and a whole slew of other comments. She flipped off my phone when she thought I wasn’t looking, but I totally saw it, and it made my whole year. Drew is a bossy a-hole sometimes, and I absolutely love him for it. Especially when he’s protecting me.

Finally, after nearly an hour of pushing (You willed this into existence, Drew, and I hate you for it), he tells me he’s in the parking garage and to hang on. But I can’t. I can’t hang on, and I give one final excruciating push and then the feeling of sweet relief washes over me, quickly followed by the faint cries of my baby.

“Jessie, baby, you did it!” Drew says, sounding emotional on the other end of the line, and also like he might be running. He’s out of breath and I think I heard him yell Move it at someone.

I’m smiling in pure disbelief that I did it. It’s over, and I have a child. I crane my neck to see where my doctor is cradling my baby. “Congratulations, Jessie. You have a baby—”

“WAIT!” I yell before she gets the word out. “Don’t say it out loud. I want to be the one to tell Drew.”

* * *

Not even two minutes later, the door to the delivery room flies open and Drew stands in workout shorts and a hoodie, hair sticking up all over the place like his hand has been gripping it for hours, eyes red and bloodshot. He’s sweating, confirming my suspicion that he ran all the way from the parking garage. His eyes immediately fall to me, and he sighs with audible relief. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, just stares, like he’s making every effort to memorize this moment, etching it into his mind for the rest of his life.

Finally, his eyes drop to the baby lying face down on my chest, and I smile. “It’s a girl,” I whisper through a new round of fresh tears. He sputters an emotion-filled laugh as a tear leaks out of the corner of his eye too.

He swats it away and finally steps in the room, going over to squeeze Lucy’s shoulder and thank her for being here for me, and then he comes to my bedside and leans over. I should probably care about him seeing whatever it is the doctor is still doing down south, but I don’t. I don’t care about anything anymore other than this baby in my arms and this man leaning in close to kiss my lips.

“You did it. You’re incredible,” he whispers reverently with a smile that soaks my heart in joy.

I watch closely, hardly believing I have him here to experience this with me. Two months ago, I thought I’d be alone in this moment. But instead, I have a man I love and a best friend at my side.

His eyes drop to my baby girl squirming against my chest, and he rubs his hand over her sweet little back. “Well? Who do we have here?” he asks, and the final pieces of my heart left intact burst like confetti at the word we.

“Jane Alexandria Barnes,” I say, tossing a brief smile and wink to Lucy, who inadvertently helped me name my baby girl.

Drew’s smile widens and his eyes pool with tears again. He bites his bottom lip and runs his knuckles ever so delicately against her little spine. “Well then,” he says, sniffling adorably. “Welcome to the world, Jane. I already love you, sweet girl.”

The rest of our stay in the hospital is a blur of sleepless nights, snuggles, visits from family and friends, and lots and lots of doting from Drew. He never leaves my side, taking the whole week off to stay with me and Jane. One of my favorite sights in all the world is waking up from a nap to the sight of Drew shirtless and rocking my baby girl against his tattooed shoulder while the sun spills over them through the window. He sings to her constantly—usually made-up songs about how precious she is or how hot her mama is—and there’s a certainty in his love for us, a finality I don’t have to question. Because somehow, it’s as if Drew and I were always meant to be. When Drew loves, he loves fiercely. He’s not going anywhere, and if there is one thing I’m certain of, it’s that Drew Marshall would move heaven and earth for me and my daughter, and I would do the same for him.

But I will never tell him where I hid the Frosty mug.