Forever Family (Forever #5) (3 page)

Chance’s face was genuinely pained. “Jenny, he’s doing that other wedding tonight. Remember? He told us about it.”

More tears spilled out. “Then I’m not going anywhere,” I said stubbornly. “I’m not getting in the ambulance until we have somebody to marry us.”

Todd caught up with us, still holding the stolen security radio. “Dylan’s ordained. Remember how he married that Kardashian?”

I grabbed Chance’s collar. “Get Dylan. NOW. We already have our license. We just need someone to do it.”

Todd and Chance looked at each other.

“What are you waiting for?!” I didn’t intend to end the sentence with a scream, but another contraction hit me mid-sentence, and I howled like a strangled cat. The EMTs froze in place.

Todd almost dropped the radio, but he buzzed through. Chance took my hand and tried to lead me through the breathing exercises we’d done in our birth preparation course. I elbowed him in the chest. “Stop it,” I wheezed. “Just stop it!”

His face registered panic as he looked up at Corabelle. She shrugged. “It’s not like the classes,” she said.

I kept Chance’s hand in a death grip. I knew this sucker would end eventually. Then we could get Dylan down here and do the words. He could sign the paper later. It would work. By the time it mattered what was filed where, we’d have it all squared away.

I turned back to Corabelle. “Call my mother. She’ll get there when she can.”

“Shall we put you inside now, ma’am?” the male EMT asked.

“No!” I said. “Not…until…we have…Dylan!”

The lights over the back parking lot had a haze over them. The pain was intense but the cool air helped. Maybe I’d just have the baby out here.

But he was early. Or she was. God, I would find out what we were having!

“Dylan’s coming,” Todd said. “The Titanium Overlords are going to extend their set to cover for him.”

“NOW can we put you inside?” the female EMT asked.

I nodded, trying to breathe, trying to listen, and trying to stay in control of the situation.

This might be my finest hour.

The contraction began to settle as the EMTs slid the gurney into the back of the ambulance. Corabelle stayed down, her eyes wide, and I knew she was thinking about when she last rode in one, after almost drowning in the Pacific. Gavin had pulled her from the waves. What a day that had been.

Chance got in beside me.

“Come on,” I said to Corabelle. “I need my witness!”

She climbed inside.

We heard footsteps approaching, then Dylan’s face appeared in the door. “Hot damn,” he said. “I always wanted to be part of an emergency wedding during the birth of a baby!”

“Get your ass in here,” Chance said. “Jenny won’t go to the hospital unless we’re married.”

Dylan hopped inside, glammed up for his concert. Behind him, a roadie with a video camera squeezed in.

“This is too many people for the capacity of this vehicle,” the female EMT said sternly.

I tried to sit up again. “Then I’m not going.”

“I’ll get out,” Corabelle said.

“No!” I glared at the EMT. “Kick yourself out if someone needs to go.”

Chance waved to the male EMT, who was still standing outside. “Just go,” he said. “It’s only a few miles.”

The female EMT tried to push forward, but the video camera guy aimed his lens at her. “Smile, you’re about to be the most hated figure in a viral video!”

She hesitated. “I don’t get paid enough for this,” she said.

“We’ll make sure you get a hefty Christmas check,” Dylan said. He winked at the male EMT, who still waited on the ground outside the door.

“We good?” the EMT asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, but shut the door.

“How are you going to get back?” Chance asked.

“Todd’s following in his car,” Dylan said. “We got it all taken care of.” He grinned down at me like I was the best thing ever.

“Can we get more lights in this place?” the video guy asked.

The female EMT glared at him, and he shrank back. “I’m all good,” he said.

Despite the ongoing pain, I felt elated. We were going to get this done. I wrapped both my hands around Chance’s.

“You know what the hell you’re doing?” Chance asked Dylan.

“It ain’t rocket science,” Dylan replied.

The video guy shifted toward Dylan and turned on a long, narrow light over the lens. “And…go,” he said.

Dylan’s face got all serious. “Mawwaige,” he said. “Mawwaige is what bwings us together today.”

Corabelle groaned, but I laughed. If we had to get married in an ambulance, between contractions, by a rock star who’d only been ordained so he could hook up a Kardashian, we might as well have a good time with it.

Chapter 3: Tina

When I got the text from Corabelle that Jenny was getting married in an ambulance by the singer Dylan Wolf, I dropped my phone.

Darion looked up from his sketch pad. “Everything okay?”

“We have to go!” I told him.

I stuck the caps on all the open tubes of paint and rubbed my messy hands on my shirt. New stripes of color layered over all the splotches and spatters from other days.

Darion set down his charcoal. “What’s going on?”

I lunged for my tennis shoes. “Jenny is in labor and getting married in an ambulance. If we can get to the intersection of Balboa and Clairemont in five minutes, we might catch them.”

Darion stood up and tossed me a towel. I wiped my hands hastily and dug through the bowl by the door for my set of keys.

We raced down the hall, not bothering with the elevator. We took the stairs two and three at a time to get to the garage.

“Was that the spare car keys you grabbed?” he asked as we darted between cars, looking for his black Mercedes.

“Of course! No way was I going to wait on the valet!” Dang fancy condo and its snaillike doormen.

We spotted the car and dashed for it. Only when Darion was behind the wheel and heading out the exit did he ask, “Is the baby okay?”

“Corabelle didn’t say. But she isn’t due for over a month.”

“That’s premature, but not enough to cause serious issues, as long as the baby is healthy,” Darion said. “Why the wedding?”

“Beats me. They only decided to get married a couple months ago.”

We sped down a back street. The night was quiet in our residential neighborhood, but traffic picked up as soon as we headed into the Saturday evening nightlife.

Another text came through from Corabelle. I read it and told Darion, “They already passed through the light at Genesee. We should see them any minute.”

“They’re going to St. Anthony’s, then?” Darion asked. “We could meet them there.”

“She wants me to be a witness and they’ll be married before we get there,” I said. I peered out the window as we approached the intersection.

“Are they in lights and siren?” Darion asked.

“I see lights!” I said, pointing.

“Got it,” Darion said. He careened across two lanes to swing into the small parking lot of a gas station.

We leaped from the car and took off down the middle of the street toward the whirl of lights. The vehicle didn’t seem to be slowing down.

“You sure this is the right ambulance?” Darion yelled as we approached.

“We’re going to look pretty crazy if it isn’t!” I said.

The ambulance passed us, lights flashing, but no sirens. We stopped in the middle of the street, watching it go by. “They’re not supposed to stop,” Darion said. “They could get in a lot of trouble if they do.”

But even as he said it, the brake lights lit up. When it came to a stop, the back door popped open and none other than Dylan Wolf appeared. “Come on in, the party’s just getting started!”

I rushed up to the bumper and took Dylan’s hand to get a leg up. I immediately bumped against the back of the stretcher where Jenny was strapped in. She was panting, her hair leaving pink chalk on the white pillow.

“We’re having a contraction break in the ceremony,” Dylan said.

“You can’t let anyone else in here!” a woman in an EMT uniform protested from her tight space in the corner.

A cameraman was filming it all, a light shining over his lens. Chance held on to Jenny’s hand, telling her to breathe.

Corabelle kneeled on the floor close to Chance.

I squished myself along the side with the evil EMT, past the cameraman.

“This is crazy,” I said to Jenny.

She flashed a pained smile.

“It’ll pass in a second,” Corabelle said. “We’re five minutes apart now.”

“Still plenty of time,” Darion said from the door as he yanked it shut. “Would you like me to check you?”

“Who are you?” the EMT demanded.

He saluted her. “Dr. Darion Marks. St. Anthony’s.”

The EMT mumbled something under her breath.

“It will be fine,” Darion said.

Jenny’s breath began to slow. “Let’s not give the cameraman a show,” she said. “We can start again.”

“What did we miss?” I asked.

“Dylan’s been rambling about everlasting love,” Chance said.

“This is my finest work,” Dylan said, flashing his megawatt smile. He was dressed in black leather pants and a gray silk vest. His hair was perfection, falling over one eye in just the right way. He looked like a rock star, no doubt about it.

“Let’s get on with it,” Jenny said. “We’re probably getting close to the hospital.” The ambulance lurched forward, and all the occupants tried to grab something steady to keep their places.

“Absolutely,” Dylan said. “Do you, Jenny, take Chance to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, from this day forward, till death do you part?”

Jenny looked up at Chance. His face was only inches from hers. “I do,” she said.

“And do you, Chance,” Dylan went on, “take this lovely lady Jenny, who is laboring so hard for your child, even while attending your concert, as your lawfully wedded wife, for better or worse, and you’ll probably make it worse, in sickness and in health, and be ready for a lot of sickness with a kid around, for richer or poorer — speaking of rich, is your recording done yet?”

“Dylan!” several people said at the same time.

“Right, right, for richer or poorer, from this day forward, till death do you part?”

Chance leaned in close to Jenny and pressed his forehead against her temple. “I do.”

“By the power vested in me by the Internet, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Dylan said, with a wave of his arms that almost smacked both Darion and the cameraman. “Now kiss this bride before she pops out your kid!”

Jenny turned her face to Chance and he kissed her softly, tenderly. The light from the camera cast a soft glow over both of them.

Everyone in the ambulance cheered. Then Jenny started to groan. “Here comes another one!” she said.

“Four minutes,” Corabelle said, her face colored blue from the light of her phone. She had a stopwatch app open.

The ambulance rolled to a stop. Darion peered out the back window. “We’re here.” He flipped the latch on the door and pushed it open.

Darion jumped out, then Dylan, then the cameraman. He continued to film as the rest of us filed out. Finally, the glowering EMT began unlocking the stretcher so they could get it out the back.

Darion ran up to the sliding glass doors and approached the intake nurse. I was glad we were on familiar turf. I hadn’t realized Jenny’s obstetrician worked out of the same hospital as Darion. I should probably have asked more questions, been a better friend. But babies were tough territory for me. Like Corabelle, I’d avoided contact with infants or people whose domestic bliss made them likely to pop one out anytime. But here we were.

The male EMT let down the wheels to the stretcher and locked them in place. They rolled Jenny out. She was in the throes of another contraction, panting. When Chance could get next to her again, he took her hand and kissed it.

For the first time since we’d intercepted the ambulance, my throat tightened. Jenny’s baby was coming. We’d have a baby among our friends.

I caught Corabelle’s eyes. She stood off to the side, her hands clasped tightly together under her chin. Her face mirrored how I felt. Elated. Excited. Fearful. But also, for us, in agony as we considered what had never been.

Chapter 4: Jenny

“What do you MEAN I don’t get any drugs?” I didn’t think I could yell that loud, particularly since my insides felt like a car getting crunched into a bundle of twisted metal. But apparently, I could.

The OB on call had a mean face, big nasty eyebrows, and a triangle goatee. He looked like an evil overlord. “You’re too close to delivery for it now,” he said.

I turned to send a pleading look at Chance. “Can you please call Dr. Jamison’s office again?”

Chance looked like he was about to argue that there was no point, but thought better of it and pulled out his phone.

The Evil One looked even more menacing now. Yeah, I didn’t want him. I’d made that clear. He patted my knee patronizingly. “You’re in good hands. The nurses will let me know when it’s time. It won’t be long.” He turned and strode out the door.

His words made me even more furious. I needed to pull rank. “Tina!” I called out.

She stood up from a chair in the corner. Thankfully the birthing suites were large. Corabelle was still here, and of course Chance. Dylan and his cameraman had gone back to the concert.

Tina leaned on the bars on the side of my bed. “What’s up, baby girl?”

I grabbed her arm. “Can Darion deliver babies?”

I could see her trying not to laugh. “Sure,” she said. “But they’re going to have a whole team in here when it’s time, since the baby is early. You’ll probably have to go with Dr. Schlock.”

God, that name. That goatee. That attitude. Anything but that. “They said the baby was fine. Lungs working, weight great. Will it really be that bad?”

A nurse came in on the last question. “I’m going to be here for the duration now,” she said. “Doc says you’re close and we’re going to move you into pushing position during the next contraction.”

I could already feel it coming on. They were super close together now that we’d gotten through admitting and a quick sonogram to check the baby’s lungs. The radiologist had almost told us the gender, but Corabelle managed to cut him off. She was good at knowing what people were about to say.