“Three minutes,” Lucas says, holding out his hand. Pieces of magic hit his skin, burning the surface. I’m still bent over, still trying to catch my breath. I’m in pain—obviously—but the same weird warm feeling grips me. I didn’t mean to use my powers like that. Tipping my head up, I watch the last of the magic fade to black.
The last time I had an explosion of magic like this, Lucifer showed up just in time to throw off the other archangels. Did I accidentally create another archangel beacon? Now is not the fucking time. The empty space in my heart aches, and I so badly wish Julian were here, awkwardly sitting with my friends, asking questions about humans giving birth.
But he’s not here, and it’s because of that very fact I am here.
“Still doing all right?” Lucas runs his hands down my arms.
“They’re getting stronger.” I take in another breath, feeling winded.
“Are you ready to go inside?”
I shake my head. I’m not good at sitting still, just waiting for something to happen, and there’s something about being under the moon that’s calming. It won’t be full for another couple weeks. We stay outside for fifteen more minutes and then go in because I’m starting to feel a little sick. Being pregnant pushed the limits on the how much humanity my body could handle. Giving birth is like the ultimate test, and I just hope I can do it.
Maryellen checks me when I get back inside. Juliet’s heartbeat is strong, though we don’t need the doppler to tell us since Lucas can hear. Still, it’s nice to hear it myself. My blood pressure isn’t rising, and with my contractions consistently coming every three minutes, she says it would be a good idea to get the bath ready.
Tabatha twists my hair up into a bun while Lucas fills the tub and gets my change of clothes laid out. Maryellen pulls down the comforter on the bed, getting it ready for me and Juliet after I’ve given birth.
“Is that a puppy pee pad?” I ask, feeling my abdomen start to tighten when I see Maryellen lay one on the bed.
“That’s not what we call them, but essentially, yes,” Maryellen says.
I laugh right as the contraction takes over. I lean on my bed and Tabatha moves behind me, hands going to my back to apply pressure to help alleviate the pain. I groan, feeling like I can’t take any more pain—and then it gets worse.
“It’s almost over,” Tabatha tells me, applying more pressure. I dig my fingers into the mattress and suddenly feel the urge to push, which scares me. The floor creaks, and Lucas comes back into the bedroom. He kneels on the bed, gently cupping my face with his large hand.
I sit on the bed once the contraction is over, hands shaking. Lucas moves next to me, and I lean on him, head resting against his chest. His cool skin is comforting.
“I have to sleep on a puppy pee pad,” I tell him, lifting my head.
“That’s better than the blue tarp you wanted,” he shoots back with a grin.
“Blue tarp?” Tabatha asks, eyebrows going up.
“I watched YouTube vlogs of home births, and they’re messy.”
Tabatha laughs and presses the back of her hand to my forehead. “I’m going to bring you a popsicle. Lime or berry flavor?”
“Lime,” I tell her and rest my head against Lucas again. He runs his fingers up and down my back. We wait until another contraction comes and goes—this one even more intense, and I accidentally blow up my nightstand light with magic—and then Lucas helps me into the tub. The contractions are getting closer together and even more painful, making it not weird at all to be sitting in the tub in just a bra while Maryellen and Tabatha stand in the bathroom with me. Lucas pours warm water on my back, and I eat the popsicle, not realizing how good it felt to have something cold until now.
The urge to push comes with the next contraction, and I’m certain this is it, but it’s not. Being in the water helps, thank fucking goodness, because half an hour passes and I’m still pregnant. We’re refilling the tub with fresh warm water when I get the weirdest fucking feeling of something rushing out of me, and then the contractions get even more painful.
“Your water broke,” Maryellen tells me as I’m squeezing Lucas’s hands, thankful he can heal because magic is now sparking around my fingers.
“Breathe,” he tells me when I cry out from the pain.
“You. Fucking. Breathe,” I tell him when I can speak again.
“I don’t have to,” he replies calmly, and I let out a strangled laugh. My hands are shaking again, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. The nauseousness doesn’t subside with the pain, and Tabatha gets me a trashcan just in time for me to throw up into it.