I've been fearing this for months.
We left my home in silence, my parent's concerned even amidst my assurances that we were fine. We're fine. We're going to be fine.
Oh gosh, I hope we're fine.
I glance over at Kacey, tight lipped and staring at nothing.
She's been mad at me for weeks. And I don't blame her. All I've been doing is obsessing about bills, making budgets and fretting about debt. Meanwhile she's been sleeping on the couch, dealing with heartburn and a husband who fought with her countless times over a car trip to visit my folks.
One day I will tell her I told her so.
She sucks in a breath and braces herself on the dashboard. Today is not the day to tell her.
"Just fifteen more minutes, baby." I reach over and grip her hand as I dart through traffic like a mad man. Hospital, hospital, hospital. I will not let my wife deliver our baby in our car.