Them (Him #3) (16 page)

Since it’s only Logan and me, we wait inside the restaurant. It, like the antique shop, is small on the inside. One entire wall is mirrored, giving an illusion of another room. The opposite wall boasts a metallic black and gold stripe print with large blossoms.

I use the extra time to try and pump Logan for more info about this girl who’s giving Amber a hard time. Experience has shown that many bullies are bullied themselves. I know neither Logan nor Amber want to be a snitch, but if I had her name it would make looking into her a whole heck of a lot easier.

“So, this girl, is she in any of Amber’s classes?”

He chews on one side of his lip, a nervous habit I can’t help but wonder if he picked up from me. “They have gym together.”

I cringe; that’s a tough break for Amber. Out of all of the classes a kid could be stuck with a bully in, gym has to be the worst. There are so many opportunities where the teacher isn’t able to be watching. The gym itself is huge, plus the track and fields if the kids are outside, and I don’t even want to think about the locker rooms.

“You swear it hasn’t gotten physical?” I press.

He nods. “You know girls. They’re all mental warfare.”

For being thirteen, he makes a decent point. A buzzing sound comes from the front pouch of his hoodie and he pulls out his phone.

He looks up at me, lifting it at the same time. “It’s Amber. Is it cool if I go outside and call her?”

“Sur—” I reply.

He’s out of the booth and to the door before I can finish the word. I’m torn between laughing and Googling chastity belts for boys. Either way, it’s clear he’s got it bad for this girl, whether he can admit it or not.

Watching the way he is with Amber takes me back to the very start of my friendship with Sarah. We reminisce about it from time to time, Sarah and me, talking about how unsure we both were back then about moving from friends to more. Part of me just curses the time we lost together, those years when we were both too afraid to make the first move and then when we didn’t trust our love enough to fight for it.

Growing up seriously sucks sometimes. There we were with all of these emotions and desires that neither of us were mature enough to handle. I’ll always curse the time we lost, but being apart to grow up on our own could be the reason we’re as solid as we are today.

“Order for Price.”

I’m snapped out of my mind and back to reality.
Time to go feed my woman.
Since she has okay luck with bland food, I got her some sweet and sour chicken. She skips using the sauce and sticks to only the rice and chicken.

Logan turns as I walk out the door with the food. He starts to say goodbye, but I motion for him to keep talking and he does. I have an ulterior motive of seeing if I can pick up any info through their conversation. Sure, eavesdropping isn’t cool, but he knows I’m listening so if he says anything he doesn’t want me to hear that’s on him, not me.

Unfortunately, his side of the conversation consists of saying ‘yeah’ over and over. I can hear her through the phone but can’t make out any words. By the time we make it to the house, I’ve given myself a headache straining to make out what she was saying.

Logan hangs up as I park.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He shrugs. “She got all happy when I told her you were cool with her eating in your class.”

“Hopefully after a couple of days she’ll feel comfortable enough to talk to me.”

“I told her you were cool, but since she doesn’t know you . . .” He hesitates.

“She doesn’t want to tell me,” I finish for him.

Sarah is sitting on the sofa with Rascal curled up into a ball next to her when we walk in. Rascal immediately springs from the couch to come greet and sniff us, giving the bag of Chinese food most of her attention.

“Smells good.” Sarah grins, standing and walking over to take the bag from me.

After Logan and I have shed our coats, we meet her in the kitchen.

“How’re you feeling?” I ask, pressing a kiss to the side of her head and giving her shoulders a squeeze.

“I don’t want to jinx anything,” she starts. “But today has been a good day.”

“That’s great news,” I breathe.

Good days have been few and far between.

“I know.” She grins. “I might even risk sweet and sour sauce.”

My eyes widen, wondering if that’s tempting fate and I’ll be holding her hair back as dinner makes a reappearance later on tonight.

Sarah

“I’m on my way to the hospital right now,” I reply.

“Okay.” Will sounds breathless. “I’ll meet you there.”

Snapping my phone shut, I focus on the road. I got the call fifteen minutes ago that Christine’s water broke. All I can think is how excited I am to meet my new niece and how terrified I am to get a preview of how my labor might go.

Will and I were at the hospital when she had Calvin but not being pregnant at the time, I hadn’t even considered what labor would be like from my perspective. This time around, it was almost all I was thinking about. Over the last month, my morning sickness had for the most part gone away. There were still some smells I, for whatever reason, could not handle at all. One of them being coffee, another being seafood.

Both have been easy fixes. Will picks up coffee on the way to school and since I’m not supposed to be drinking a ton of caffeine, I stopped drinking it altogether. Seafood has been an issue a couple of times going out to eat, and once when Mama Price surprised us with lobster ravioli. That was a bad night. I swear I could still smell it the next day, which made that day a not so great one, either.

Now, being pregnant myself and rapidly approaching my own due date, I’ve become slightly terrified of the actual labor part. I’ve only been in a room with a woman in labor once and that was when Christine had Calvin. Christine is easily the most evenly tempered person I know. Seriously, it’s why she hasn’t killed Brian yet.

During her labor with Calvin, I wondered a couple of times if she was possessed. Her head didn’t spin or anything, but it was the first time I had ever witnessed her raise her voice and if I remember correctly, she even threatened bodily harm against Brian. That was so out of character for her, it was clearly due to the pain.

How would I handle it? I was only four months away from finding out. I’ve never been a fan of pain, and I’m pretty sure my tolerance to it is on the low side. I’ve pumped Christine for details about what labor was like for her, and she claims to not remember the pain. How can she not remember the pain? That doesn’t seem possible.

My theory is there is some mom clause where you don’t freak out moms-to-be while they’re carrying their first kids. The only flaw in that theory is a woman having more than one kid. Either way, I’m freaked.

I park near the front entrance and wonder if I should wait for Will or head inside. I’m being a baby about going in all by myself. Squaring my shoulders, I decide to grow up and not wait. This is the same hospital we will be having our baby and where Christine had Calvin two years ago.

Other than new wallpaper, Labor and Delivery is in the same place it was then. By the time I make it to the nurses’ station, I can hear Brian from the hallway so I don’t need to ask what room they’re in.

I knock lightly before peeking my head in. “Hi.”

“Come on in,” Brian says, walking over to open the door more.

Christine is in a hospital gown, a sheet and blanket pulled up to her chest. She lifts her hand in greeting, her pretty face strained.

I hurry over to her after hugging Brian to kiss her cheek. “How are you doing?”

She grimaces and Brain answers for her. “Her water broke. So far, she’s already dilated to four centimeters. We’re waiting on the anesthesiologist to give her an epidural. The contractions are coming pretty fast.”

He points out a machine next to her bed. “They’re monitoring the intensity of them on this. When these red dots go up this thing, it means she’s having one and the higher they go, the stronger it is.”

“Oh, honey,” I coo, reaching out for her hand.

“I’m doing okay, I swear,” she replies. “It’s only hard to talk during them.”

I’ll bet.

“Who has Calvin?” I ask Brian.

“Dad’s watching him. Our mom and Christine’s mom are on their way. If the baby comes before little dude’s bedtime, Dad is going to swing by with him.”

“Have they given you any idea of how long it might be?”

Christine runs her hand over her belly, “I went fast with Cal and they say babies after the first come even faster, but honestly we don’t know.”

I nod. “Is there anything I can get either of you?”

Christine lifts a Styrofoam cup from her bedside table. “I can only have ice chips from this point on.”

I turn to face Brian. “Do you want anything?”

He drags a hand through his hair and glances softly in Christine’s direction. “I’m too nervous to eat anything. Thanks for the offer, though.”

My phone chirps from my purse and I pull it out to see a text from Will, wondering what room Christine is in.

I hadn’t even looked at the door when I walked in, so I step out in the hall so I can answer him. A return text isn’t needed, though, when I see him standing at the end of the hall.

“Will,” I whisper-yell, and his eyes meet mine.

I stand rooted, watching his expression warm and him approach me.

“Hey, darling,” he murmurs against my temple as he presses his lips to my skin.

“Hi.” I squeeze him tightly and lead him into the room.

He’s given the same updates as to Christine’s condition as I was. Not long after we arrive, we’re sent to the waiting room so the anesthesiologist can give Christine her epidural.

“Does Logan know to take the bus home?” I ask, glancing back toward Christine’s room.

“I called my mom. She’s going to pick him up and take him to her house.”

“That makes way more sense than him being all by himself at the house,” I murmur, my brows furrowing.

“You’re lucky I have more than my good looks to get me by,” Will teases.

“Sarah, Will,” my mom calls out.

Will leaves me sitting and walks over to hug her.

“How is she? Why are you two out here? Is she already pushing?”

Will glances at me, biting back a grin at my mom’s rapid-fire questions.

I pat the seat next to me and reply as she sits. “She’s fine. She’s getting her epidural. She isn’t pushing yet.”

“Oh, whew.” Mom leans back into her chair. “I was scared I missed it.”

“If you missed it, we’d all be in her room meeting the new baby,” I joke.

She frowns. “Well, you make a good point.”

The nurses are cool with us hanging out in her room until it’s time for her to push. Once that happens, we’ll go back in the waiting room while only Brian stays with her for the delivery, depending on how late it is. Will has school tomorrow, and I have no desire to stay up all night. If she hasn’t had the baby by eleven, we’re going home and to bed.

Since it’s her second baby, everyone is convinced it will be here long before that. I’m tired, so honestly, I’m just doing what I’m told. Sit here, Sarah—sure. Drink this, Sarah—okay. Relax, Sarah—I’m all over that. For me, my second trimester can also be called my zombie time. I’m committed to going with the flow, especially now that I can eat without throwing up every time.

I may be a zombie, but I’m an observant one. Christine may not realize it, but I’m mentally taking notes as to how she’s handling her labor. For example, before the epidural, she was not a happy camper but after, she took a catnap, with us in the room and everything. I watched the machine thingy next to her bed; she was still having contractions the entire time and slept right through them.

Before now, I hadn’t put a lot of thought into whether I wanted an epidural or not. The concept of natural childbirth had its appeals, and I figured if my ancestors could do it, why couldn’t I? After seeing Christine sleep through a portion of her labor, I was second-guessing not considering it big-time. Seriously, my ancestors went to the bathroom outside. Why would I purposefully do something as painful as labor is, the hard way?

An epidural just moved to the top of my to-do list labor-wise. Making that decision alone relaxed me.
Now there are only a million other things for me to worry over or plan between now and then.
Since we’ve decided not to find out the sex of the baby, we’ve somewhat limited ourselves color-wise to gender-neutral hues. Although, pink and purple were historically male colors, and Will is open-minded to the point that I doubt he’d care if our son slept in a pink room or our daughter in a blue one.

The idea of having to correct every stranger we’d pass in the wrong-colored stroller is what’s keeping me from making a decision. I could always go with slate and then use any color I wanted as an accent. I pull out my phone. Whether it’s the pregnancy or something else, I have lost all ability to remember anything these days.

I can stand up in the living room, walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water and by the time I’m there, I’ve forgotten what I came into the kitchen for in the first place. Because I forget everything, I send Will random texts of things I want to remember. That way, he can remind me or I can check my sent text history and remind myself.