And, talking of Gran, she’s still with Ed. Four years and going strong. He’s a weird guy, but he makes her happy, and I know that’s what granddad would want for her.
So, life is good.
No, it’s fucking great.
And, in three weeks, I’ll be a daddy, and I can’t wait.
The limo slows, and I hear the noise of the crowds of journalists and paparazzi outside.
My cell goes off in my pocket. It’s been buzzing all night.
I pull it out and see a text from Gran.
Gran: Congratulations, Vaughn. You were always going to win. Those other films sucked.
I chuckle.
“Who is it?” Charly asks.
“Just Gran congratulating me in her own unique way.”
I can see she’s writing me another text from the three dots at the bottom, so I wait for it to appear.
Gran: Oh, and Ed has just asked me to marry him. I said yes. And, like I told your mama and daddy, I’m not getting married in the back garden like you and your sister did, FYI.
“Gran is getting married,” I say, shocked.
“Vaughn?”
“Married! My eighty-four-year-old grandmother is fucking getting married!”
“Vaughn—”
“I can’t believe this. I mean, who gets married at eighty-four—”
“Vaughn!”
“What?” I snap my eyes up to her, and I see hers are as wide as saucers.
“Well, I either just peed myself or my water broke.”
I look down to see water trickling down to the floor near my feet.
My eyes dart back to her face. “Your water broke? Holy shit! Your water broke!”
Jesus Christ.
I’m about to become a dad.
I just won an Oscar. Found out my eighty-four-year-old grandmother is getting married. And my wife’s water’s just broke.
At least I can say that my life isn’t boring.
She moans a sound of pain, her hand going to her stomach.
“Don’t worry, Pins. I’ll get you to a hospital.” I press the intercom to the driver. “Driver, nearest hospital. Now. My wife has just gone into labor.”
“Jesus,” he says.
Yeah. No fucking kidding.
“I’ll get you there as quickly as I can. Just hang on.”
I take hold of her hand and look her in the eyes. “You got this, Pins. And I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”
“It hurts,” she groans.
“How bad?”
“Bad.”
“Like a-pin-in-the-ball-sack bad?”
She pinches my nipple through my shirt, twisting it.
“Ow!” I yelp. “That fucking hurt.” I rub at the pain.
“As bad as an eight-pound baby deciding it wants out of your body through a hole the size of a lemon?” She glares at me.
My lips twitch, and I fight the smile because I know she’ll probably maim me if I do, and I really, really like my cock.
“Don’t you dare fucking laugh, West.”
“As if I would.” I take her face in my hands and stare into her eyes. “I love you,” I tell her. “And, no, it didn’t hurt that much. You definitely win that one, Pins.”
Then, I kiss her, the love of my life and soon-to-be mother of my son, as we speed through the streets of LA, hospital-bound, so my son can make his entrance into the world.
And I can’t fucking wait.