Page 142

I let go of Andie and put both hands over my belly.

Oh, hell no.

“Goldie?” Andie’s voice changes immediately.

I shake my head because I have no idea what to tell her yet. “Just—give me a second.”

The pressure keeps squeezing before it gradually starts to let go, but I stay exactly where I am with both hands spread over my stomach, waiting to see if it happens again.

And waiting.

On the plus side, I’m no longer freaking out about Sumner potentially crashing his plane into the Gulf never to be found again. Oh, no. Now I’ve got something else to lose my shit over.

Scout has turned around on the floor now, and even Trace is looking at me instead of his laptop. I breathe in slow and deep, and then blow it out. And then I do it again. And again.

“Was that a contraction?” Ellie asks.

“I don’t know.” I keep both hands on my stomach, looking down at it and waiting for it to tighten again. “Maybe. Hopefully one of those fake practice ones because this baby and I are going to have a serious fucking problem if it wasn’t.”

Scout’s eyes get huge. “Do we need to start timing them?”

I grit my teeth. “Don’t put that out into the universe. Nope. It’s not happening.”

She immediately shuts her mouth.

I keep breathing while everyone watches me, which is super helpful and not at all making this worse. Another slow breath in. Another one out.

It feels like an eternity passes. It’s probably only, like, ten minutes, but nothing else happens.

That’s promising.

The silence lasts until Scout suddenly grabs her phone off the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Googling.”

I rub my temples. “Don’t Google pregnancy shit. Google always thinks you’re dying.”

“I’m not Googling symptoms.” Her thumbs fly across the screen. “I’m Googling how to make it stop.”

Tatum leans over to read whatever she finds. “It says dehydration can cause Braxton Hicks.”

Four sets of eyes swing toward me.

“When was the last time you drank anything?” Ellie asks.

I open my mouth, then close it again because I honestly have no clue.

Tatum takes one look at my face and pushes herself off the floor. “That’s what I thought.”

She disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of ice water, holding it out to me. “Drink.”

“Yes, Mom.”

She narrows her eyes. “I’ll force it down your throat if I have to.”

I believe her, so I take the glass and swallow a few long drinks while Scout keeps reading off things I’m supposed to do. Hydrate. Rest. Change positions. All very reasonable advice that becomes significantly more irritating when four people are supervising me through it.