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Bambi is huffing in barely restrained anger at my parents, all because of me. She’s yelling and threatening them…for me. That might not be attractive to other guys, but I’m fighting the need to sweep her into my arms, carry her back home and try to induce labor in the most carnal of ways.

I stare in open mouth awe at my girl, not giving_as she put it_a flying fuck about the people who gave birth to me standing in front of us. They’re both stunned silent as well.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, I’m hungry.”

Bambi goes to sidestep my parents, and I follow with a hand on her back when she stops just on the other side of them. She grips her stomach and gasps.

“Uh oh.”

“Uh oh what?”

I circle to face her, waving my hands uselessly around her trying to find whatever is causing her distress. Then I spot it, the wetness growing between her legs.

“I think my water just broke.”

“You’re…it…broke?”

“Yes. The baby’s coming. Time to go.” She reaches for my hand and redirects us back towardsThe Book Vaultwhere my truck remains parked.

My parents step out of the way, and I don’t even give them a backwards glance as we carefully walk back the way we came. They don’t deserve it, and I hope they abide by Bambi’s demands, and we never have to see them again.

Bambi’s grip on my hand is like a vice as we reach the truck, and I gently lift her in. The wet spot on her pants has grown and I hope that’s normal.

“I’m going to grab the hospital bag from inside then we’ll leave. Okay?”

Bambi nods and breathes like we’ve practiced. I gently shut the passenger door and run inside to grab the hospital go bag we packed weeks ago, sitting ready and waiting by the front door. Just in case I also grab a full jar of pickles from the fridge.

The entire drive to the hospital I speak loving reassurances to her and keep one hand on her stomach, hers resting on top of mine. I can feel something going on inside her belly, and the anticipation of meeting my son has heat burning the back of my eyes.

By the time we arrive at the hospital I’m breathing heavier than Bambi is. She doesn’t seem to be in any pain yet, I don’t think. There’s an expression on her face, and I can’t quite decipher if it’s pain or worry.

“Is everything okay?”

Pinched worried eyes turn to face me but relax the moment she notices my own concern.

“Oh, yeah everything is fine. I’m just…”

“Freaked the fuck out?” I suggest, because it’s what I’m feeling right now.

“Yeah, you could say that. By this time tomorrow we’ll be parents. We’ll have another living being to take care of and I’m worried I’m going to do something wrong. All the reading in the world can’t prepare you for the reality of taking care of a baby.”

“You’re going to be a perfect mom, Bambi. If anyone is going to fuck up it’s going to be me and I’m going to need you there to keep me in line.”

She cracks a small smile and looks down at her stomach, cradling it affectionately. I try to reassure her with a soft squeeze of her hand. She instantly laces her fingers through mine and rests both our hands on her belly.

“Everything is going to be fine. It won’t be easy and it sure as hell won’t be perfect by societal standards, but it’ll be perfect for us. Every moment of it will be amazing and we’ll both be therefor it all. You hear me?” She looks up at me and graces me with a small, sweet, loving smile.

“Yeah, I hear you,” she answers.

“Good. Now remind me, which end does the baby come out of again?”

Bambi laughs and I can see her shoulders visibly relax, which is a good thing because if all labor is like the one I watched, this isn’t going to be easy. It’s going to hurt like hell, and I plan on being by her side every fucking minute of it.

We make it into the hospital without any contractions starting but as soon as she’s hooked up and in one of those hospital gowns in a room, the first one hits. Bambi’s scream has me on the verge of needing my own sedative. Her grip on my hand is tighter than any rope I’ve ever tied, and I begin profusely apologizing because I know this is at least half my fault.

The contractions continue on schedule, increasing in frequency and intensity just like the books said they would. When the time comes, we opt for an epidural and Bambi’s pain eases but doesn’t subside completely.

Before I know it, hours have passed, and the doctor tells me it’s time to push. I get into my position at Bambi’s side and hold her hand with mine while rubbing her back with the other.