Breathless

Chapter 8

It's the day before Thanksgiving and his family is coming over to celebrate with us and help us bake, and I'm so, so incredibly nervous.

The doorbell rings, and at the exact same time, Christian's phone starts ringing.

His phone is Dylan calling, but he lets it ring and gets the door.

It's his family.

He starts greeting them, hugging everyone.

He looks happy to see them.

Smiling, he introduces everyone to each other, including me to his family.

Before any conversations can start, Dylan calls him again, so he picks up. He doesn't even say hello before Dylan says something.

"Why?" he asks. A moment later, he frowns and hands me the phone.

My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Hey." I say.

"I think I killed Olive!"

Christian's dog.
"Why?" I ask.

"She's in a corner whining and panting, she won't eat, and her tits are huge, but she's, she's freaking out! Help!"
"There's not much I can do. I'm states away."

"What do I do?" he demands.

I bet she's in labor.

"Find a box, something, and set it up in a quiet, private area. Make sure there's lots of room but not too much."

"Why?"

"I think she's in labor."

"Oh god, I am not a midwife!"

"Are you talking about Olive?" Christian demands. "Let me talk to him!"

"Erin, what if she starts hemorrhaging?" he demands.

I runs my hands across my face.

"When did she start acting like this?"

"Literally two minutes ago!"

I whisper explain the situation to Christian, and Mom excitedly, because she's a dog lover, suggests we all get on a fucking plane to Seattle.

Right now.

I turn her down, and I stay on the phone with Dylan and Aubrey, helping them.

They listen to my instructions, and everyone is sitting around, waiting to see what's going to happen.

"Oh my god!" Aubrey squeals.

"What?" Christian demands.

"She had a puppy!"

"She's not done." I say.

<><>

Shehad five puppies and I directed Dylan and Aubrey through everything. Christian calls every two hours almost.

All the guys in my family and Christian's family are talking and laughing and having some serious conversation and I'm all of us girls are baking since Thanksgiving is tomorrow.

"Oh fuck!" Mom says, angry.

"What's the matter?" Dad asks.

"We're out of flour!"

Everyone looks outside.

Snow is coming down heavily and there's got to be at least six inches of snow already on the ground.

The streets probably haven't been plowed. Going to the store in anything but a big, safe vehicle would be really dangerous.

Going to the store in anything would be dangerous, but something that isn't big and safe is even more dangerous.