Max's POV:
Oh God. Ohh God. OH. GOD.
Ella's water just broke. At the mall. I repeat—THE MALL.
And Jason? Yeah. He didn't know we'd taken his nine-months-pregnant, ready-to-pop, borderline-murderous wife shopping. He told us—very clearly, I might add—to keep her company. Not to wheel her around the damn mall like we were in some deranged stroller derby.
But we did it anyway. Because we're idiots. And now, she was screaming. Loudly. In front of a bedazzled sunglasses kiosk and a confused elderly couple eating frozen yogurt.
Dylan stood next to me, frozen, his face paler than a vampire with anemia. I could hear the gears in his brain trying to reboot like an ancient Windows PC.
"I'm NOT having my baby at the mall—GET ME TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL!" Ella screamed so loudly a passing toddler burst into tears. Her voice echoed off the high ceiling like an opera singer with a vendetta.
That scream was the slap we both needed to get moving.
