Page 67 of Don't Fall For Your Grumpy Neighbor
Epilogue
Shepherd
It’s been a few weeks since my accident, and I have to say I’m feeling much better. The bruises are slowly fading, and I’m able to move around more freely. Today is the first day I’ve come back to work, and it feels good to be back.
“How’re you feeling?” Callum asks as he approaches me.
“Much better. The bruises are slowly fading.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay. You had us all very worried.”
I smile. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“How’s Felicity?”
My smile grows wider. “Seriously, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Callum nods. “I agree.”
My phone chirps in my pocket, and I read the text from Felicity a few times before my brain registers the words.
Felicity: Baby’s coming. Meet me at the hospital.
“I... uh, gotta go,” I say, shoving the phone back into my pocket.
“Everything okay?” Callum asks, following me toward the back of the restaurant.
“Felicity’s in labor.”
“Oh shit. Go,” he says in a rush, but I’m already out the door.
I fly toward my truck, not even fully aware of my actions, just moving on autopilot. After today, my life will be forever changed. As I drive to the hospital, my phone blows up with text messages from my siblings, two phone calls from my mother and Felicity’s, and a lot of voicemails. I don’t waste time with any of it. I focus on the road ahead, leading me to Magnolia Ridge Hospital.
Once I’ve pulled into the parking lot, I shut off my engine and rush toward the labor and maternity ward. A few weeks back, Felicity and I took a tour of the hospital to familiarize ourselves with it. Now, that tour is paying off.
I rush to the nurse behind the desk. “Felicity Lark?” I ask breathlessly. I can’t wait until I can call her Felicity Atwood.
“Room three-twelve.” She points a finger to the left, and I head off in that direction.
When I enter the room, I’m expecting mayhem, but it’s all very calm and serene.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, crossing the room to stand beside Felicity, ready to give her anything she needs.
Felicity beams at me. “I’m only dilated three centimeters, but my water broke.”
I glance at Felicity and then at her mother, who’s also sitting in the room. I barely even registered she was here at all. “What does that mean?”
“It means you two are in for a rough night,” Helena says, flipping through a magazine.
“The doctor said they’ll give me some medication to help speed things...” Felicity stops talking and starts breathing in through her nose, deeply.
I reach for her hand, letting her squeeze onto me as hard as she needs to. “Breathe,” I tell her, because I really don’t have anything else to say.
She’s heavily breathing through her contraction, obviously not needing my gentle reminder, but still, I want to be here for her. The room fills with the rhythmic sound of her deep breaths, the gentle hum of hospital machinery, and the distant murmurs of other families in similar situations.
“Up,” she says, finishing her sentence from before the contraction began.
I kiss her on the lips once her breathing has returned to normal. “You’re doing amazing.”