"I'm sorry to say this sweetheart, but you're still not ready to push," the midwife announced and Tatum groaned in pain, crushing my fingers as another contraction overwhelmed her. "Do you want some water?" Nash offered. "Or a cold compress?" Blake added. "Or a scone?" Saint suggested. "No I don't want a fucking scone!" she yelled and I was pretty certain she broke my finger as her grip impossibly tightened.
