Page 71 of Honest Boys Don’t Play

I watch Bertie across the reception floor. Day has turned to night, and the outdoor string lights bathe everything in a yellow hue. She sips at some water; her face squished like she’s in pain. Every time I ask her if she’s okay, she insists she is and that she’s just heavily pregnant and tired.

I want to believe her, but my gut tells me she’s lying, especially since she’s resorted to avoiding me. Every time I get closer to her, she moves away.

When Daire finally comes off the dancefloor, I manage to grab his elbow and pull him toward me.

He gives me a quizzical look. “Is something wrong?”

I nod my head toward Bertie. “B’s not acting right and I’m worried she’s in labor and lying to me.”

He looks over his shoulder at her. “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately.” I slip my hands into my pockets. “Can you just keep an eye on her? She’s started avoiding me, I think my hovering was getting on her nerves.”

He laughs at that and smacks me on the shoulder. “You got it, dude.”

He heads off to rejoin Rosie. I spot Bertie in the same spot she was in the last time I looked. She makes eye contact with me and shoots me an awkward thumbs up. She’s so full of shit.

I shake my head and make my way through the crowd to her. “Bertie,” I say as evenly as I can, but I’m afraid it still comes out sounding a bit gritty.

She blinks innocently up at me. “Yes?”

“Are your contractions coming regularly now?” I’m trying my fucking hardest not to show my internal panic, because if she is in labor, she doesn’t need me shutting down right now.

“Uh…” She looks around for a means of escape.

I grab her wrist. “Bertie, I’m serious. If you’re in labor, we need to go.”

She rubs her lips together nervously. “I don’t think I’m in labor.”

I close my eyes and resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. “Are your contractions regular?” I ask again.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been timing them.”

She wants to give me a heart attack. I scrub a hand over my jaw. “Okay, well let’s go sit down at a table and I’ll time them for a bit, okay? Do you want anything to eat or drink while we do that?”

“I can’t be in labor,” she scoffs. “We haven’t even put his actual crib together or picked out a name. It’s too soon. He’s not due yet.” She lifts her chin haughtily in the air.

I take a deep breath as my stomach roils. If she’s been in actual labor since this morning, then there’s no telling how dilated she might be by now. Granted, this is her first baby so things should go slower.

“Well, in that case it still won’t hurt to time what you’re feeling and be certain, right?”

She frowns, rubbing her stomach. “I guess not.” Her face contorts with pain.

I immediately yank my phone out of my pocket and time the length and then start another clock when it’s over so I can keep track of how long it takes until she has the next one.

“There’s a table right over here.” I take her hand, guiding her that way.

“The tables are name assigned,” she says. “Ours is way over there.”

“I don’t give a fuck right now,” I bite out and her eyes widen in surprise. I’m not one to ever raise my voice or to sound short, but right now it’s taking pretty much everything I have not to run in circles freaking out. If I didn’t think she’d fight me tooth and nail I would scoop her up and carry her out of here and drive straight to the closest hospital. “We’re gonna sit right here and time these and if anyone has a problem with that, then they can just deal with it.”

She gapes at me. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Like what?” I ask, staring at my phone.

“So … bossy. I kind of like it.”

I pull out a chair for her and she sits without argument. I take the chair beside her and when I finally look her way I’m surprised by how she’s looking at me. “Don’t look at me like that.”