He slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a sharp, jarring halt on the shoulder of the deserted highway. “What? Now? Are you serious?” His voice wasn’t concerned. It was irritated. Furious.

I nodded, feeling another contraction begin to build, a powerful, clenching wave of pain. “Greg, we have to get to the hospital.”

He switched off the ignition and turned to face me, his face a mask of cold fury. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

The accusation was so absurd, so completely unhinged, that I couldn’t even process it at first. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything on purpose! The baby is coming!”