A/N: That was a lame cliffhanger, I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave that hanging for long, letting it build into something bigger than it is. So I hurried up and wrote this, which really should be the second half of the last chapter. But more exciting stuff is coming up, I promise.
"This is one way to end an interview, huh?" Layla joked weakly. "Bet you wish you'd sent someone else to fill in now."
"Are you kidding?" Blair asked. She glared suspiciously at an ancient, rusting truck on her left as it drove up to the four-way stop, but the driver obediently pulled to a stop. Carefully, she stepped off the brake and eased into the intersection. "This article now has a great hook. I'm fully expecting circulation to go up. What do you think of 'Designer Delivers: a Craze Exclusive'?" Despite her airy tone, her fingers were curled so tightly around the steering wheel that they ached.
"Honestly, I think it needs some work," Layla said, breathing hard. "Sounds like a Sun headline. And I'm not in labor. It's still too early, only thirty-sev-" she broke off with a low groan.
Blair wasn't about to take her eyes off the road, but she risked taking one hand off the wheel to reach out and pat Layla's shoulder. "It's going to be fine," she said firmly. "We're almost to the hospital and they'll take good care you. Both of you."
Blair was pretty sure she was almost as relieved as Layla when the hospital came into view. Ignoring all the posted signs, she pulled up to the emergency entrance. In a flash, she was out of the car and around the other side, yanking the passenger door open.
"Come on, honey," she said soothingly. Layla wasn't moving, eyes squeezed shut, lower lip caught between her teeth, hands cradling her belly. "We're here, you have to get out of the car." Hearing footsteps running toward her, she snapped out, "we need a wheelchair!" before noticing who she was speaking to. "Cris?" He got here fast.
"Cris?" Layla echoed. She opened her eyes, concentration turning back outward.
"Layla!" he gasped, voice thick with tension.
"Blair," Blair said dryly, waving a hand toward her own face. "Now that we've got that settled, a wheelchair?"
"Right," he said, helping his wife out of the car. "It should be-"
Ah, yes, here was an orderly hurring toward them, pushing a wheelchair.
"Kyle already paged Dr. Baez," Cristian was saying as they moved through the hospital doors. "So we won't have to wait."
They didn't. Within five minutes, Layla had been whisked up to an OB exam room, helped into a gown, and Dr. Baez was walking in, a brisk, reassuring presence. "All right," she said with a smile, snapping on some gloves. "If everyone would please step out for a few minutes, we'll see what's going on here. You too, Dr. Lewis," she added pointedly when Kyle seemed poised to watch over her shoulder. Both men were disposed to argue, but with a keen glance at Layla, Blair grabbed Cris by the arm and towed him out of the room.
"Let her do her job without a crowd," she advised. Finally taking a good look at him, she stopped short. She reached out and snagged his chin in her hand. "Hey, what the hell happened to you?
He ran a hand through his curly hair – he'd been growing it out again, she noticed - obviously wanting to turn around and march right back into the exam room. He sighed with clear agitation, before meeting her gaze. He flinched as she reached up to lightly touch the puffy, bruised skin around his eye. "Would you believe I pissed off a Cramer woman?"
"Very funny," she said flatly, appreciating the effort it took for him to joke. His voice was only a little shaky. "You gonna tell me, or you want a matching set?"
Before he could answer, the door swung open behind them and the both turned expectantly. It was only Kyle, though, looking extremely irritated. Which, Blair reflected, was a damn sight better than scared.
"Well?" she and Cristian demanded in unison.
"Damned woman actually kicked me out," Kyle grumbled, looking for all the world like he wanted to kick the door. "It's not like I'm the father or, you know, a doctor, or anything." Blair rolled her eyes. Men were all alike. Worse than children. Beside her, Cris was practically vibrating with tension.
"And I'm her husband," he said sharply. "Kyle, what's going on?"
He straightened, voice and face taking on a more professional air. "It's probably fine," he said reassuringly. "Dr. Baez is doing an examination now, but if I had to guess, I'm thinking it's probably just Braxton-Hicks. Her water hasn't broken and there's no bleeding."
Cristian relaxed fractionally, though his face was still pinched with worry. Blair let out a long breath of her own and surreptitiously checked her watch. She really should be getting back to the Craze offices to start putting her notes together for the article, to say nothing of the thousand other details she needed to attend to…another glance at Cristian's face made her decision for her. "Let's sit down," she said, steering him toward the waiting area at the end of the hall. Kyle followed slowly, casting glances back at the door of the exam room. "And you should really put something on that eye."
"Um. I had an icepack. I guess I must've dropped it?" He looked helplessly at Kyle, who looked annoyed, but nodded.
"I'll get you another one," he said, and disappeared around a corner.
"I hate hospitals," Cris announced abruptly five minutes later.
Me, too. Labor and Delivery held especially bad memories. Repressing a shiver, she leaned over to bump his shoulder with her own. "Nobody likes hospitals," she told him.
"I do," Kyle said absently from where he was holding the wall up. She gave him a sympathetic look, but he didn't catch it as he started to pace.
After a few more minutes of anxious silence, she asked, "Should someone call Fish?" Kyle halted his pacing. Cris sent a one-shouldered shrug in his direction, clearly saying up to you.
"I don't want to worry-" he trailed off, flushing for some reason. "I will," he finished lamely. "Once Baez tells us what's going on."
On cue, the exam room door open and Dr. Baez, was striding out, a professional smile on her face. Blair and Cristian got hastily to their feet.
"Everything's just fine," she said without preamble, holding up a hand to forestall questions. "Just a little false alarm, nothing to worry about. Both Layla and the baby are doing well."
Blair heard Cris mutter "¡gracias a Dios!" in a tone that reminded her strongly of his mother and she laughed, feeling a little giddy as her own relief swarmed through her. She laughed harder when Cris grabbed her, squeezing her hard, before hooking an arm around Kyle's neck and dragging him into a three-way hug. Once they disentangled, he was off like a bullet toward the exam room, barely acknowledging Dr. Baez as she agreed that he could go in. Kyle lingered for a moment, giving Blair a questioning look.
"I better get going," she told him. "I'm so glad Layla's okay. But I have about a hundred hours of work left to get done today."
"I know the feeling," he said wryly, though his eyes were still bright with relief. "I just wanted to say thanks, Ms. Cramer. For driving Layla here…and waiting."
"Blair," she corrected with an eyeroll, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "And it's no problem. I'm just glad everything worked out. Tell Layla to take it easy. Put her feet up and let everyone pamper her. That's one of the perks of being big and pregnant."
He gave her a grin so bright and charming that she actually felt a slight flutter in her chest. "I don't think that'll be a problem. Thanks again. Blair." With a wink, he turned and started down the hall.
"Call Fish!" she called after him. He acknowledged this with a two-fingered gesture halfway between a salute and a wave and disappeared into the exam room.
Once back in her car, she shook her head at herself, very amused. Gay and taken, but at least he's better lookin' than his sister and with 100% less crazy. "Blair," she said, catching her own eye in the rear-view mirror. "I think you might need to get laid. If only your secret husband was in town." She allowed herself one deep sigh, before starting the car and heading toward Craze, mentally writing her article on the way.