Only five years old and already he was following in his momma’s footsteps.
And me, well, I clapped like a lunatic.
Until another contraction gripped me so fucking hard that I had to clutch Cam’s shoulder just to breathe through it.
“What the hell?” he muttered, but when he took in the strained lines of my face, his eyes turned wide. “Gem?” he questioned, and he glanced down at the free hand currently resting against the tight muscles of my belly. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh,” I whispered through a panting breath, trying to play it off, but Alma didn’t miss a fucking beat.
“Nope,” she said. “She’s not okay. She’s in labor.”
Our entire cheering section turned the gazes away from the stage, away from Leo’s shining moment, and fixated their focus directly onto me and my overactive uterus.
“I’m fine,” I said and held up what was supposed to be a reassuring hand. “I’m not in labor,” I added. “It’s just a few Braxton Hicks.”
“Bullshit,” Alma refuted and pulled her air horn back out of her purse and sounded the damn thing off a good five times. “Leonard!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Stop it, Nonna,” I whispered through another building contraction. “Don’t make a goddamn scene.”
She ignored me completely, sounding off that fucking air horn again, and Leo looked up from where he’d just sat back down beside his classmates, and his eyes narrowed in confusion.
It was indisputable; his cheering section had officially gone wild.
Sure, none of us were topless or taking body shots off one another, but with the way his great-aunt kept firing off the air horn and scaring every goddamn person in the crowd, it probably wouldn’t take long before security made an appearance beside our row.
“Leonard! Get your shit, and let’s go!” she shouted again, but this time, she wasn’t the only one yelling toward my extremely confused husband.
Sean and Cam had joined in.
“We need to get Gemma to the hospital!
“The baby is coming!”
I watched as understanding covered my husband’s face, and it didn’t take long before he was hopping up from his seat and running across the auditorium floor like a bat out of hell.
Of course, by that point, people in the audience had grown hip to our embarrassing game. Hell, some even pulled out phones and started recording the shenanigans that included several top players for the Mavericks helping a panting, pregnant lady out of her seat and toward the exit route.
We’d officially fucked up the whole damn graduation, and I was certain I’d find my beet-red and panting face splashed across TMZ or some shit.
But the contractions kept coming faster and stronger, and I didn’t have much time to contemplate the media reaction we’d receive from this.
Our little cheering section had turned into a “Get Gemma to the hospital section,” and by the time we reached the exit doors, Leo had met us there on a sprint.
The concern on his face had my heart clenching in discomfort.
“Baby, are you okay?” he asked and placed both of his hands onto my belly.
“I promise I tried to wait,” I whispered, and tears started to spill from my eyes. “I tried to make the baby hold out a little longer so I didn’t ruin your big day. I’m so sorry,” I said just as my tears turned to full-on sobs.
“Baby.” Leo smiled down at me as he pulled me into his arms. “I can promise you that a graduation ceremony doesn’t even come close to comparing to the day I get to meet our baby,” he whispered into my ear.
I sniffled and nodded and buried my face in his shoulder.
When another contraction gripped my belly, I had to step back from my husband’s comforting embrace and place both hands on my stomach as I found my focus to breathe through it.
“Gem,” Leo said softly as he put a strong arm around my shoulders. “What do you say we get you to the hospital?”
“Can I get an epidural?” I asked and he grinned.
“Yes.”
“And can you make sure someone takes away Alma’s air horn?”
He chuckled. “Trust me, it’s already been made a priority.”
For the first time since we’d arrived at the hospital, we were alone.
My parents had driven Alma home. And our friends, Gemma’s parents, and Grandpa Joe had left about thirty minutes ago.
“I can’t stop looking at him, Gem,” I whispered as I stared down at the baby inside my wife’s arms. He was hands down the most beautiful little human I’d ever laid eyes on.
A healthy baby boy that my beautiful, strong wife and I had created.
At eight pounds, six ounces and twenty-one inches long, Noah James Landry made his surprising debut into this world on the day that I officially graduated from grad school.
Gemma’s labor had lasted all of two hours once we’d arrived at the hospital, which, from what her nurses had said, was like a fucking record for a first-time mom.