Page 102 of Nash
East pats his pocket. Pulls out the keys. Drops them. Picks them up. "Okay. Hospital. Let's go. Darla, can you—Are you able to—"
"I can walk, East. I'm having contractions, not losing my legs."
"Right. Right. Walking. We're walking." He turns to the room. "Everyone needs to get to the hospital. All of you. This is a full-club situation. My children are coming into the world. I need everyone there because I am going to pass out and someone needs to catch me."
"Nobody is going to catch you," Darla says.
"SOMEONE needs to catch me."
East grabs his jacket, grabs his keys again because he put them down, and bolts for the door. His boots thunder across the main room. The front door opens. Slams.
The room is quiet. Darla is still in her chair.
"He forgot me," she says.
The door opens again. East stands in the frame, breathing hard, his face a shade of white I've never seen on a man who runs fight circuits without flinching.
"I forgot you," he says. "I forgot you. I am the worst person alive. The worst father in the history of fathers. I left the mother of my children sitting in a chair while I—"
"East." Darla holds out her hand. "Come get me."
He crosses the room in three steps, takes her hand, and helps her stand. He pulls her against him, his forehead pressed to hers, his hand on her belly.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry. I panicked."
"I know." She touches his face. "You're going to be a wonderful father."
"I just forgot you."
"And you came back. That's the part that matters."
He helps her toward the door, one arm around her waist, matching her pace. As they pass me, East stops. Looks at me. His eyes are bright, wild, and terrified.
"Nash." His voice cracks. "You're about to be a godfather."
The words hit. My chest tightens. Beside me, Ruby grabs my arm.
"Wait." She looks at me. Looks at East. Looks at Darla. "Does that mean I'm the godmother?"
East grins through the panic. "Who else would it be?"
"Oh my god. OH my god!" Ruby's hands come up to her mouth. Then she drops them. "Wait. I don't want to assume. I'm not assuming. Darla, am I the godmother? Because if this is just an East decision and you haven't been consulted, I completely understand. I don't want to overstep and—"
"Ruby." Darla reaches over and squeezes her hand. "You've been the godmother since the baby shower."
"Since the BABY SHOWER?"
"Since you threw a baby shower for a woman you'd known for three months and bought matching onesies that said 'My Godmother Is Unhinged.'"
"I did buy those onesies." Ruby's eyes fill. "I bought those onesies as a JOKE, Darla. I didn't think—I was just—Are you SERIOUS?"
"I'm having contractions twelve minutes apart. I've never been more serious about anything."
Ruby turns to me. Her face is wet. Her grin is enormous. "Nash. I'm a godmother."
"I heard."
"We're godparents. Together. That's a thing. We're a thing and we're godparents. I need to sit down."
