Chapter 53
SPENCER
SEVEN YEARS AGO
“Fuck, this shit hurts,” Harlow cries, pacing her bedroom with a hand to her back. I sit helplessly on her bed, timing her contractions. “If these aren’t real contractions this time, I’m suing. Who I’m suing, I don’t know, but someone is getting sued.”
She breathes out and squats at the same time.
“All right, it’s over,” she tells me so I can track it.
“You’re averaging fifteen minutes between them.”
She drops her head back and lets out a groan. “That’s not good enough. If we go to the hospital they’re going to send me home again.”
We’ve already been three separate times over the past two weeks—all false labor.
“Get out.” She pokes her belly. “I officially evict you, tiny monster.”
“I know this isn’t the best time, but I’d like to point out that once again we don’t have a name picked out.”
She turns, glaring daggers at me. “Fuck. You. At this point I’m naming our offspring Ziploc Bag just to be done with it.”
I hold up a finger. “Let’s not do that, please.”
She sits down in the rocking chair we moved from the nursery into her room, since she said it would benefit her more in here.
No more than she’s sat down, she announces, “I want to shower.”
“Shower?” I repeat. “Now? What if your water breaks? How will you know?”
Again, with daggers glaring. “My back hurts and I want a hot shower. Are you going to deny the mother of your child her dying wish?”
“You’re not dying, you’re in labor,” I reason.
“It’s practically the same thing.” She looks out the window and the weather raging beyond.
Tropical storms are rare, and this one, named Monroe, is the worst we’ve had in a century so if Harlow truly is in labor, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.
Her parents are currently stuck at her aunt’s up in the Napa area and can’t get back here until it passes.
“Now, please, if you love me, you’ll help me shower. ”
I get up and start the shower for her without another word.
I let the shower warm up and then time her next contraction. When it’s over, I help her out of her clothes and into the shower.
“Please, get in here,” she begs. “I would feel safer if you held me.”
I look around like her dad might climb out of the bathroom cabinet and surprise me. She notices and rolls her eyes. “They’re not here. They’re not even close to here.” She squishes her eyes shut. “How am I going to do this without my mom?”
I don’t have anything to say to that. I’m not in her position, but I can imagine if I was, I’d want my mom too.
I take my shirt and pants off but leave my underwear on when I climb into the shower behind her.
She rolls her eyes at me and huffs a laugh. “Are you scared I’m going to take advantage of you?”
“No, but I…”
“Think my dad might walk in?”
“Stop mocking my paranoia,” I laugh. “You have to admit he pops up at random times.”
“This is true,” she agrees, leaning her back against my front. “Can you hold my belly? It feels so heavy.” I wrap my arms around her and use my hands to lift the bottom of her stomach. She relaxes into me even more. “Oh, that feels good.”
“Turn around,” I tell her. “Let the water hit your back and I’ll hold your belly from the front.”
She listens and slides her hands up my torso until she twines her arms around my neck. “Hi.” She blinks up at me.
“Hi,” I chuckle, holding her stomach again.
“You have no idea how much relief that brings.”
I’m not sure how long we’re in the shower, but we don’t get out until the water begins to grow cold. I help her into a fresh pair of sweatpants and over-sized t-shirt.
Outside, the storm seems to have gotten impossibly worse.
“I think we better go,” I tell her. “I don’t want the weather to get worse than this, and I’m not equipped to deliver this baby.”
She bites her lip, eyeing her packed bag in the corner. “What if it’s a false alarm again?”
“The contractions are getting closer together.” I had continued to time them while we were in the shower and the time between has went from fifteen minutes to eleven. “And you’ve had them all day.”
She looks out the window and frowns. “You’re right.”
Thank God she agrees so easily.
Scooping up her bag, I swing it over my shoulder. There’s a change of clothes in there for me, and everything she needs, as well as the baby things, so there’s nothing else to grab since the car seat is already installed in my car.
“Should you call your mom?” I ask, holding her hand down the stairs since I’m worried she might get another contraction on the way down.
“I’ll call her once we get there and know more.” With a whimper, she says, “I don’t know if I can do this without my mom or Willa.”
“You have me,” I tell her, slipping on my shoes when we get to the bottom of the stairs.
Then I help her into her pair of slip-on clogs.
“I know how much you wanted your mom there and your sister if she could make it, but if the baby is coming now, then we’ve got to do what we can, okay?
” She nods, but I still see the sadness in her eyes.
I press a quick kiss to her lips. “You’re going to be amazing. ”
Since her parents are gone, I had moved my car into the garage and with how badly it’s raining I’m glad I did. Otherwise, I’d be worried about her slipping and falling.
“If you want my mom to come, I’ll call her, but I know it’s not the same as having yours.”
She shakes her head, her cheeks pinkening. “No. Just you.”
Taking her hand, I lead her to the garage and open the passenger door for her.
“Hold on,” she grits out. “Another contraction.”
I fumble for my phone so I can pull up the app and time them.
“That one was nine minutes apart.”
Panic fills her eyes. “This is really happening this time, isn’t it?”
“I think so.”
Once she’s seated, I strap the seatbelt across her and toss the bag in the backseat. I’m panicking, but I don’t dare let her know that.
The drive to the hospital is terrifying to say the least—both due to the weather and the obvious pain Harlow is in.
The hospital isn’t far, but I swear the twenty minutes feel more like an hour by the time we arrive.
I pull up to the entrance and help Harlow out onto a bench just inside the door while I park the car.
I sling the bag over my shoulder and grab the car seat.
“Did you have to park a mile away?” Harlow gripes when I finally run inside. “That took you forever.”
“Pretty much.” I shrug. “Do you need a wheelchair?”
She glares at me. “I’ll walk.”
“Okay,” I say softly. “I was just trying to help.”
“I was just trying to help,” she mimics.
Wow, she really is in pain. She’s never this sassy with me.
We check in at the front and they call up to labor and delivery that we’re coming.
In the elevator, Harlow leans her forehead against the stainless-steel surface. “I better be dilated by a lot because it feels like a bowling ball is knocking at my vagina’s door and demanding exit. There’s so much pressure.”
I try to imagine what she’s describing and cringe. That doesn’t sound pleasant at all.
We check in at the intercom outside the unit before being buzzed in.
Upon entering, Harlow holds up a hand and waves at the nurse’s station. “This is not false labor this time, I swear.”
Someone laughs and I wonder if they’ve been here the other three times we showed up.
“This baby wants out,” Harlow tells them. “Like now.”
We’re led to a room and Harlow’s given a gown to change into.
“Well,” the nurse determines a little bit later. “You are in active labor this time. But the bad news is you’re only three centimeters dilated.”
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Harlow groans. “This baby is stubborn.”
“It’s your first,” the nurse explains. “That first one usually wants to stay in a while.”
“Well, I want them out,” Harlow declares. “Right now.”
The nurse gives her a reassuring pat on her hand. “Patience. This will all be over before you know it.”
As she exits the room, Harlow gives me a look that seems to say that’s unlikely.
Smoothing her hair back from her forehead, I say, “Don’t stress about the dilation. Try to relax and focus on breathing.”
She smacks my hand away. “Shut the fuck up and focus on your own breathing before I choke you.”
I lean back in the chair beside her bed and stay silent.
Well, then.