(MILES)
"Right." I grab the pregnancy bag from the dresser. We had it packed earlier just in case of emergency. I am so excited and frightened at the same time that I don't know where to place my feelings. "Let's go."
Arlo smiles weakly. "You're still in your boxers, and I need to get dressed."
I glance down at my boxers. "Oh, yeah. Of course." I drop the bag and hurry to get my shirt and jeans.
Arlo slips into some sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. He grabs his stomach and groans. His breathing is uneven.
He grits his teeth hard. He is in obvious pain. "We need to hurry. These contractions are getting pretty strong."
I head over to him. I'm dying with anxiety. "I'll help you downstairs." We make our way down the steps, shopping every few seconds so that he can tolerate the pain of the contractions. We move slowly, but eventually we get to my car. "I called to inform Sasha. He said that he will meet us at the hospital."
