“Queenie! Can I get a hand?”

I can hear her running down the hall. The bathroom door flies open as the first contraction hits. It’s mild, but I grab the edge of the vanity to steady myself.

“Oh my gosh. Is it time?” Her wide eyes shift to my wet sweats. “It’s time!”

I nod. “It’s time.”

She flails and takes a step toward me. “Do you need to sit down? I need to get the bag. We have to go to the hospital. I need to call my dad.”

I raise a hand and smile. “Take a breath, Queenie. The baby isn’t coming in the next five minutes.”

“Right. Okay. Sorry. I’m supposed to be your support, not the other way around.”

“Well, to be fair, I’ve done this before and you haven’t.”

She inhales deeply and exhales a slow breath, collecting herself. “What do you need me to do first?”

“Can you bring me my phone and then start the car?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” She rushes down the hall and reappears a handful of seconds later with my phone in her hand.

“My bag is sitting on top of the bed in the spare room. Can you grab that for me, please?” I’ve slept in there maybe a handful of times since I’ve moved in. Mostly when I’m uncomfortable and thrashing around like an angry walrus in the middle of the night and don’t want to keep Jake up. Even on those nights, I usually spend an hour in the spare room and go back to our bed when I inevitably have to make another trip to the bathroom.

“Yup. Should I grab you a fresh pair of pants?”

“I can do that in a minute.”

I sit on the closed toilet seat and remember I haven’t used the bathroom yet. Which I’ll need to do before we leave for the hospital. But first I need to call Jake.

He messaged less than a minute ago, asking how I’m doing.

I accidentally hit the FaceTime button, but it’s too late to turn back now.

His handsome face appears in the small screen, a furrow already decorating his brow. “Hey, babe, everything okay?”

A calm settles over me, so different than the last time I did this. I have a partner, someone who will stand by my side at every turn and who is going to love this child with his whole heart, just like I am. “Everything is fine.”

His gaze shifts to my surroundings. “Are you sure?”

“Positive, but you should make your way to the hospital because I’m pretty sure we’re having a baby in the next few hours.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I can’t hear a damn thing.” It’s noisy in the arena. I can tell he’s walking based on the way the phone moves around and then suddenly it’s quiet and dark. A second later there’s light.

“Are you in a supply closet?”

He looks around. “Seems that way.”

“Okay! I have your bag. There aren’t any pants in the dresser.” Queenie’s grin tells me she found the drawer.

“Your bag? What’s going on? Are you in labor? Is it time?” Jake’s eyes are suddenly wide.

“It’s time,” I tell him.

“He’s supposed to sit tight until next week.” There’s worry in his tone. It’s understandable after everything we’ve been through during this pregnancy.

“I guess he has other plans.” I rub my belly. “It’s okay, Jake. He’s going to be fine.” My doctor assured me that we’re safe now, and even if JJ does come earlier than we planned, I’m safe to deliver. I have to trust that we’ve made it this far, and that we can handle whatever is next.

Jake runs his fingers through his hair. “Should I come home and get you?”

“It’s probably better if you meet us at the hospital.” I cringe as another contraction hits. This one stronger than the last. “I don’t know how fast this is going to go.”

“Shit. Okay. I’m leaving now. I’ll see you soon.” He’s in motion again, the phone jostling as he jogs.

“We’re leaving now, too.”

I’m about to end the call.

“Hanna?”

“Yeah.”

“I…” He closes his mouth and presses his lips together. “Drive safe, please.”

“Of course. You, too.”

I end the call, use the bathroom, and change into dry underwear and sweats. Queenie shoulders my bag and I slip my feet into my shoes, pull on my jacket, and waddle to the door. She throws it open and we both stop short.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Queenie’s cheeks puff out.

“Since when was it calling for snow?” I ask.

“I didn’t think it was.” She takes my arm, and we cross the slick driveway. “Why does February always have to be so unpredictable?”

At least we have my SUV, which is new and has good tires.

Unfortunately, Seattle is not like the Midwest or the states near the Canadian border on the other side of the country, which are used to snowfalls. The drive to the hospital usually takes twenty minutes, but thanks to the inch of white stuff, we’re crawling along at ten miles per hour. It blows my mind that a tiny bit of snow has the ability to paralyze an entire city.

And the contractions are getting closer together. And stronger. A lot stronger.

“How you doing over there?” Queenie is white-knuckling the steering wheel. She’s also leaning forward in the seat, and the wipers are going eleven million miles a second.

The light fifty feet ahead turns yellow, and she eases her foot off the gas and applies the brake. The back tires skid for a moment before they find traction again. We both hold our breath sigh in relief when the car comes to a stop and doesn’t manage to slide into the intersection like the one coming in the opposite direction.

It all happens in slow motion. The car shifts course and starts to head toward us. I can see the panic on the driver’s face. It’s a young man. Early twenties at best. He spins the wheel and fishtails.

Queenie and I brace for impact, and the back bumper skids toward us and nearly hits the front of the SUV but manages to miss us by mere inches.

Both Queenie and I breathe another sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, the car coming up the left lane can’t see what’s happening and the two collide. Thankfully, neither of them is going particularly fast on account of the bad weather, so it looks like a fender bender, but the entire intersection is blocked and we’re currently boxed in on three sides.

“Shit. Crap. This is a mess! Are you okay?”

Queenie reaches for me as I plant one hand on the dash and grip the armrest, huffing through a groan as another massive contraction rolls through me. It’s a full thirty seconds before this one passes.

“You should put your hazards on and park the SUV because I don’t think we’re going anywhere for a while. Then call 9-1-1. I’ll call Jake and tell him where we are.”

“Okay. I can do that.” She shifts the SUV into park. Her phone is set in the cradle on the dash. We’re still a good ten minutes from the hospital, and that’s without an accident blocking the intersection or the snow. There are now five cars involved and a lot of people yelling at each other.

It takes me two tries to pick up my phone. Giving birth in my car is not ideal. Giving birth in an intersection where an accident has happened is even less ideal.