The adrenaline from the birth was still surging through her body, making her fingertips tingle and her heart hammer in her chest. She’d been to births before and was familiar with the feeling, but this time it had all been on her. She’d been the one whose hands had brought a brand new baby into the world for the first time.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked as they passed the chemistry classroom where she’d discovered she’d failed the exam just a few short hours ago. It was dark now, the door closed.
“My office.” He produced keys from his jeans pocket, stopping at a door just past the chemistry room.
She followed him in, blinking as the fluorescents overhead buzzed before flickering to life. His desk was stacked with lab books and file folders. There was a huge periodic table taped to one of the painted cinderblock walls and Bailey made a face at it. Her memorization skills were exceptional—she could name every single one of them—but she couldn’t figure out scientific notation to save her life.
Professor Jacobs shut the door behind him and motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Bailey sat, putting her backpack and coat at her feet and watching him open a tall metal cabinet. Inside there were a few button down shirts and several suit coats. He slid a clean white shirt off one of the hangers, slipping it on before turning to face her. His jeans wore dark spots of amniotic fluid like inkblots on paper.
“Have you ever done that before?” He took a seat in his office chair, facing her. His shirt remained unbuttoned as he leaned forward on his elbows. So they weren’t going to talk about the kiss. She felt her body relax, relieved.
“No,” she admitted, keeping her gaze on his face and definitely not on the hard ridged planes and angles of his chest. “I’ve been to births before but I’ve never caught a baby.”
“You were just amazing.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t believe how cool-headed you were. You just took charge and did what needed to be done.”
“I was shaking on the inside,” she admitted with a little smile.
He studied her with those sharp blue eyes and she’d never felt so proud or so self-conscious in her life. She wanted to smooth her hair, straighten her blouse, pull down her skirt, but she willed herself to sit still under his gaze. “If you stay calm, then the mama stays calm, and that makes the birth that much easier.”
“But when he got stuck? And you just shoved your hand in there—?” He sounded awed and she blushed at the heat of his gaze. “How in the hell did you know how to do that?”
“My roommate is a doula.” She always explained what a doula was because no one ever knew—and often confused it with being an actual midwife. “A doula does labor support. Sometimes for women who don’t have anyone else. Sometimes for women who want to have a more natural birth in a hospital setting, which isn’t easy when the cesarean section rate is upwards of thirty percent.”
“But you’d never done that before?”
“No.” She shook her head. “But I’ve seen it done.”
“Amazing.” He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the surface of his desk. “You were just… amazing.”
“Thanks.” She felt the blood rushing to her face at the compliment. “That’s what I want to do.”
“Deliver babies?”
“I want to be a nurse-midwife.” Why did saying it out loud make her feel like she was admitting something shameful? It had been such a buried desire for so long, it felt as if she was sharing a secret. “That’s why I’m taking chemistry.”
He made a face. “You’re failing chemistry, Bailey.”
“I know.” She swallowed, looking down at the floor. “I’ve always sucked at math.”
“But seven percent?” He shook his head. “There’s got to be something else going on. Did you study?”
“For hours.” She sighed, tugging at the hem of her skirt. “I got A’s in biology. No math.”
Dom sat back, his index finger pressed to his lips, a gesture she recognized from the classroom. He did that when he was deep in thought. She couldn’t help looking at where his fingertip touched the divot above his upper lip. She couldn’t help thinking about how his mouth had felt, soft yet demanding. How he’d tasted like coffee and cinnamon.
“You could be a doula,” Dom said finally, still tapping his finger there in that little divot. “That doesn’t involve math, right?”
“No, that’s true,” she replied. She’d thought about it. Joanna said it was the best of both worlds—she got to be at a birth and support the mother, but there was none of the heavy responsibility. And Bailey could see her point. “But…”