Page 166

When I look up, Sumner’s eyes are already glued to me.

“What?” I ask, pausing before unwrapping my candy. He better not be about to judge the amount of candy I plan on eating tonight or we’re going to have a problem.

“Was that another contraction?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Last I checked, I’ve never had a baby before, so… no clue. Felt like it might’ve been, though.”

“I have a clue,” Sumner says, stepping closer and tapping his watch. “That’s the fourth one in the last hour.”

I stare at him. “You’ve been timing them?”

“Yes, and I didn’t say anything because I knew you’d tell me I was overreacting.”

I glare at him because he isn't exactly wrong, but I'm still annoyed. “I am telling you you're overreacting.”

Colston pauses halfway through ripping into a Twix, his head snapping back and forth between us. “Wait. Time out. You’re having contractions? Like, right now? While I’m standing here?”

“They’re probably just practice contractions,” I assure him, peeling the brown paper off the bottom of my Reese's and popping it into my mouth. “Those Braxton Hicks ones.”

“Probably?” Colston's voice goes up an octave. He takes a very big step backward, putting distance between us. “Goldie girl, if your water breaks anywhere near me, I’m going to throw up. I can’t handle the fluids.” He gags. “I watched a documentary on childbirth once and it was a straight-up horror movie.”

“My water isn’t going to break tonight,” I tell him, rolling my eyes.

Sumner looks right at Colston, completely ignoring my denial. “She’s been having them on and off since this morning. But they’re getting closer together now.”

“Oh my god,” Colston breathes, practically plastered against the porch railing now. “Are we supposed to be doing something? Do I need to get you a wooden spoon to bite down on? Should I go find a priest? Or a midwife? I don't know what midwives look like, Goldie! Do I need to build a fire?”

“Yes. You should start collecting wood,” Sumner somehow says with a straight face.

Colston nods, tossing his uneaten Twix into the bushes and clapping his hands together. “Good, yes. I can do that.”

He starts to walk down the steps, and that’s when Sumner and I both lose it. I’m laughing so hard, the cramp in my stomach this time isn’t from the baby. Tears run down my face and Sumner’s bent over with his hands braced on his knees.

Colston stops and scowls at his best friend, then at me. “You know, I was going to bring you some whiskey for the pain, but now you can go through the horrorfest sober. How’s that sound? Since you want to be mean about my psychological scarring.”

“Your scarring?” I wheeze, wiping a tear out from under my eye. “It's not like you’re the one who has to go through this. They have good drugs at the hospital, dude. I don’t need your whiskey. And why were you even watching a childbirth documentary in the first place?”

Colston crosses his arms and tips his chin up, looking offended. “Because Trace said the miracle of life was beautiful and magical. He lied, Goldie. He lied. It was a bloodbath.” He shudders.

Sumner stands up, wiping his eyes, too. “Him fucking with you sounds about right.”

“Well, you can relax,” I say, though another tiny cramp twinges in my lower back just to mock me and when I shift in my seat, Colston’s eyes widen and he slides further away. “I really don’t think the baby’s coming tonight. I’m fine.”

Colston eyes my stomach like it’s a ticking time bomb. “Trace owes me so much therapy money.”

Sumner ignores him, having finally caught his breath, and keeps his eyes locked on me. “If they keep getting closer, we’re calling the doctor.”

“I have the internet, Sumner. It says fake labor is a thing.”

“Yeah, I have it, too,” he counters, crossing his arms. “And it also says when the pain starts wrapping around into your back, it’s real.”

I freeze with another Reese's halfway to my mouth. “How do you know it’s in my back?”

“Because you haven’t stopped rubbing it since we came out here.”

I let out a heavy sigh, dropping my hand into my lap. “Look, my due date isn’t until Thursday. I’m not going to be that person who makes everyone rush to the hospital in a panic over gas or Braxton Hicks just so they can send me back home humiliated for overreacting.”

“Nobody’s going to humiliate you for making sure our kid is okay.”