Page 43 of Secret Bump

“Really? You’re giving me the Mister treatment right now?” He grabs the hospital bag we’ve already packed three times and sets it on the bed.

“Seriously, Mack, we don’t need—” I freeze.

He looks at me.

I stare back.

And then I moan, folding over, as a contraction seizes my belly from the inside and wraps all the way around to my back. “Oh, God.”

“I’m calling the midwife.”

I can barely hear him over the roar in my ears. My whole body has been consumed by the unexpected sensation. This is nothing like the little contractions I’ve felt over the last week that our midwife said were practice.

Practice?

Nothing prepared me for this.

Mack comes closer. He’s using his firm boss voice. And then his hand is on my back, pressing firmly where I need it,thank God, and he leans over me.

“Okay, little one, this is probably the real deal. I’m right here. I’m not going to leave your side. We’re going to time a few of these contractions, and then we’re going to the hospital soon.”

I moan and nod. Yes, I want that. I want to go where the experts are.

He sets his phone next to my hand on the bed and keeps rubbing my back until the contraction ends.

As soon as I can breathe again, I surge upright and race around the bed. “Come on, we have to go.”

“Baby, wait.”

“No, we can’t wait. Why did I wake up, Mack? Was that happening in my sleep? Did my body know? Why did I want to makewaffles?”

“It’s called nesting. You gave me a whole book to read on it.”

I keep going, my panic driving me straight past his calm, logical explanation. “I need pants.”

We sleep naked. Why do we sleep naked? Now I have to get dressed, and I can feel my body already ramping up forthatagain.

“How about a dress?” Mack is beside me again, his voice firm, his hand on the small of my back. “Hold on to the wall.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s been a couple of minutes and I think you’re going to—” He stops as I moan and grab the wall. “That.”

It’s the longest minute of my life.

As soon as it passes, Mack stops rubbing my back and pulls a cotton maxi dress over my head.

Good enough.

Then he picks me up in his arms and gets me to the front door before the next one hits.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper.

“Yes, you can.” Mack’s hands settle on my hips. Steady. Sure. “You’re such a good girl. You did all the research. You’re ready.”

“I’m not.”

He kisses my temple. “You don’t want to make me a Daddy?”

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