“I’m not weird,” Max defends, turning to me. He jabs his thumb at the officer. “He thinks I’m weird.”
I narrow my gaze. “You are weird,” I mutter.
“Anyway, they won’t be pressing charges and they have your stuff on the side ready for you to pick up. Once you’ve paid,” PC Dylan explains.
“Like I’m going to take my hard-earned cash there again,” Max snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Max, it’s the only supermarket you are allowed in,” I remind him. “Do you really want to piss Lake off more?”
He huffs out a breath. “Then I guess I’ll go pay for it.”
“Thank God,” I mutter. “Now, can we go?”
Lankan lets out a relieved breath. “Yes, you are free to go.”
I push back and pick my phone up off the table. We were made to turn it off once we got into the interview room. I switch it on, and immediately, dozens of messages and missed calls come flooding in.
“Shit!”
“I’ll escort you out,” PC Dylan offers.
“I’m telling you, it’s discrimination. My wife will be complaining to the executives about this,” Max rants.
I tune him out, dialling Harlow’s number, listening to it ring out.
“Seriously, Max, you’re in here again?” PC Denmark retorts, a police officer who we’ve become very acquainted with over the years.
I quickly flick my gaze in PC Denmark’s direction to see him staring Max down with disappointment.
Max throws his hands up before slapping them down at his sides as he looks to the heavens. “I went out for some goddamn tampons. That’s it.”
“Sheesh, calm down,” PC Demark orders, grimacing.
“Come on,” I fret, hearing the phone begin to ring once again.
“Malik,” Harlow screams down the line, and every fibre of my being tenses, and I go on alert.
“Harlow,” I call out, hearing her heavy breaths. “Harlow, talk to me.”
“Everything okay?” PC Dylan asks.
I ignore her, focusing on Harlow. “Where are you? I’ve been calling you for an hour.”
“Babe, what’s going on? Did you fall? What’s going on?”
“Where are you?” she bites out, and I hear Joan telling her to calm down.
“I won’t calm down, Gran, not until he tells me what’s so important he couldn’t answer the bloody phone when I call him.”
Fuck!
I look up, glaring at Max. “Sorry,” he mouths.
My shoulders slump as I answer. “I’m at the police station.”
I wince at her howl of pain. “Why a-are you at the police station?” she bites out, and my stomach bottoms out at her tone.
“Shit!”
“Malik!” she cries.
“Max got us taken in,” I rush out as Max grimaces, taking a step back. “Now, please, where are you?”
“I’m in fucking labour and you are at the police station?”
Shit!
My legs move into a run, and I push through the double doors, even as the officer behind me yells something. Just as the cool breeze blows over my face, something solid smashes into my abdomen, and before I can catch myself, I go over the railing, landing with a thud on the grass below.
What the fuck?
My phone lands beside me, and I can hear the tortured cry of my wife as Joan tries to soothe her.
“Harlow,” I wheeze, lifting the phone to my ear. “I’m coming.”
“You’d bloody better be, and you tell Max that I am going to kill him,” she warns, rattling off the hospital address. “I swear, Malik, if you miss this birth, I am going to kill you, because this is the last time I’m doing it. I mean it this time.”
“I won’t, I promise,” I assure her, but the line is dead before I can finish my sentence.
I glance up at Max as he stares down at me lying on the grass. “She’s in labour, isn’t she?”
“Yes, you dick, and I might not make it,” I grit out, then jump to my feet, wiping the dirt off my legs. I turn, walking right into a streetlamp. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Language,” Max hisses.
I turn, ready to kill him, when the police officer steps between us. “Where do you need to go?”
I rattle off the hospital address. “But my car is at the supermarket.”
“Um, why don’t I take you, so you make it there in one piece,” she offers.
“Wise,” Max mutters.
I point my finger in his direction and he wisely takes a step back. “If I miss the birth of my son, I am going to kill you.”
He points to the officer. “Dude, police officer, never admit to anything.”
I glance down at her. “I’m going to kill him. Are you going to arrest me?”
She turns her focus from Max to me, rolling her eyes. “If it wasn’t for the fact my dad warned me about you two, I’d think you were being serious. Now, let’s get you to your wife.”
I relax a little. “Thank you.”
“Your dad warned you about us?” Max asks, grinning wide.
“Your picture is in our staff room,” she mutters. “With a warning not to feed you or engage in conversation.”
“Why? I’m a fucking hoot to talk to, and I find it really offensive that they’ll target only me. And to starve me? That has to be a criminal offence if you ask me.”
“Max, no one is asking, so shut up,” I warn.
“One of you will need to sit in the back,” she announces, her gaze shooting from me to Max.
I scratch the back of my neck “Max can. He’s used to it.”
“Hey! No way. I want to press the siren button,” he pouts as we reach her car.
She rolls her eyes and opens the backdoor for him. Muttering a curse, he gets in and she slams the door behind him.
“Let’s get you to the hospital,” she demands.
“Thank you,” I tell her, truly meaning it.
Please forgive me, Harlow.
*** *** ***
I race down another cold sterile corridor, somehow having managed to get turned around once again. This place is like a fucking maze. Harlow is going to kill me if I don’t make it there in time.
And at this rate, I’m going to miss everything.
I spot a nurse’s station up ahead and pick up my pace, racing over to the grey-haired nurse.
I place my palms down on the counter and lean in. “Hi, can you tell me if I’m on the right floor? Is this the delivery ward?”
“It is,” she replies. “Are you looking for someone?”
“My wife. Her name is Harlow Carter.”
“Oh she’s—”
“Bro, she’s in there,” Max calls from down the hall. He grimaces as he points to a door. “And I’d hurry. She’s pushing and it sounds like it hurts.”
“Thanks,” I tell the nurse before running off to meet Max.
“Wait, sir…”
I tune her out as I reach Max, and immediately hear a scream. “Fuck!”
“Go in there and tell her I’m sorry,” he tells me.
I barge inside at her cry, and my eyes bug out at what I walk into. Legs in stirrups, chin to chest, a woman screams through her contraction.