Page 100 of Books and Hookups

“First I need to finish my birth plan.” I flipped through it to find where I’d started it. At least, I’d hoped I’d started it. “Goddammit!” The pain seized me without warning, radiating from my back to my front.

My mother gripped my hand and gave me her most encouraging smile, the same one she’d flashed me when she’d dropped me off for my first day of middle school. When it was over, she tapped her phone and said, “By my best guess, that’s about four minutes from the last one. Where’s your go bag?”

“I—” Shit. Was this really happening?

“It’s okay. I’ll pack some things for you. Where do you keep your luggage?”

“Under the bed.” When she got up, I pointed to my desk. “Could you hand me that book?”

She walked back to the desk and picked up The Book. “This one?”

“Yes, it’s got a packing list.”

She handed it to me. “I’ll put in some toiletries and a change of clothes for you and the baby.”

“Clothes…for the baby?” Shit, I hadn’t thought ahead to walking out of the hospital with a baby. Who needed clothes.

“Are you keeping her things in here?” She walked to the dresser, and without waiting for my answer, pulled open the top drawer. She pulled out a pink onesie. “See? It’s going to be okay. I’ll just pack some things for you.” She strode into my bedroom.

“Will it be okay?” I stroked my belly and murmured, “You sure you can’t wait three more days? Five would be better.”

From my closet, Mom called, “What about a car seat?”

I snorted. “Mom. I don’t own a car.”

She appeared in the doorway with my small suitcase. “Do you plan to walk back from the hospital holding the baby?”

“Fuck!”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll ask Danny to run out for one.”

“Danny?” I blinked. “But you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him. I just didn’t know how much you two cared about each other. He’ll forgive your father and me for how we acted. We had a chat before I came up here. Why don’t you text him and tell him we’re heading to the hospital in a few minutes?”

My body went numb. I’d hidden from him since that terrible day at the botanical garden. But I’d committed to allowing him to witness the birth of his daughter. I supposed it was time to come out of hiding.

I wished I hadn’t fucked everything up so badly. I’d fully intended to have everything set up for her, to have a safe and welcoming space for the baby. To have turned in my book so I could focus on mothering. To have my shit together.

I’d utterly failed. My mother had seen it, and Danny was going to judge me.

“I’m already the worst mother ever,” I groaned.

“No, you’re not. Why would you say that?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m already fucking everything up.” I sniffled.

“Honey.” She peered into my eyes. “Everyone makes mistakes. That doesn’t make them poor parents. It means they’re learning.”

When the contraction eased, I said, “You don’t make mistakes.”

She snorted. “Of course I do. In your closet, I saw the rack full of dresses I’ve given you with the tags still on. It wasn’t until I saw all those pastels next to all the black that I realized I was asking you to wear something you hate. I thought I was doing something nice for you, but all I was doing was trying to make you seem happy. I should know you’re happiest in monochrome. Like Wednesday Addams.”

“I’m no—” Lightning seared across my belly, so acute that it stole my breath.

“Another contraction?” Mom asked.

“Yeah,” I gritted out, my molars clenched.

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