Page 64 of Love Bitters

Imogene

Slowly sitting down on the couch between Murph and Wes, I try to contain my sniffles after a long, stupid crying jag in the bathroom. The last six weeks have played hell on my body, making the simplest of tasks impossible to complete since my belly just keeps growing.

The sound catches Wes's attention immediately, and he grabs my hand bringing it to his lips. "What's wrong, Ims? You feeling okay?"

Of course, this has all heads turning our way, but it's Ollie that plants his ass on the coffee table in front of me. Murph doesn’t even tell him not to sit on it, which says something about the eggshells we're all walking on now that we're down to the last couple weeks of this pregnancy.

"Why are you crying, babycakes?" he wonders.

I know how crazy it's going to sound, but I'm not going to lie. "I wanted to paint my toes, Olls. But I can't reach them anymore, and I've still got another month!"

I start crying again, and Wes covers his mouth, no doubt to hide his laugh. Hell. I'd laugh at me right now too. Being the sweet man he is, Ollie simply gets up and starts down the hall, asking what color I want over his shoulder.

"I'm sleeping with Ollie tonight since he didn't laugh at me," I tell the rest of the room.

Wes pouts at me, but Murph argues, "Hey! I didn't laugh either."

"Then you get tomorrow," I tell him, smiling through the tears.

He leans down and kisses my cheek as Ollie comes back into the room and sets about painting my toenails for me. I'd been pretty stern about not moving in with them until after the baby was born, but then came time to renew my lease. Considering I'm hardly ever home and the fact that the guys were already in the process of setting up a baby space here, we decided to make it official. I'd thanked Mrs. Miller profusely before the guys helped move what little furniture I had into a small storage unit. The rest, like my clothes and keepsakes, we'd integrated into their space. A fact they all seemed more than overjoyed about. The true moment I decided was when someone mentioned at our book club meeting about living alone and needing to keep my phone charged and handy just in case I went into labor when the guys weren't around. It was a reality check of an all too real possible scenario. With the other factors already in play, we just threw caution to the wind and did it.

Ever since crying in the bathroom, my stomach has been feeling so upset that I skip dinner and go lay down in Murph's bed for a nap instead. He accidentally wakes me a little while later when he crawls in with me, spooning against my back. My stomach is still hurting to the point I think I may have caught some kind of bug. Doing my best to ignore it, I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep.

It can't be more than a few hours later that I wake again. Warm wetness coats the insides of my thighs and the bedsheets around them. In my half-awake state, I'm fearful that I did actually pee myself in Murph's bed, then those stomach pains I've been battling all night double in intensity. It almost feels like when my muscles clench as I’m puking. I grab my belly and breathe hard for a few seconds until they finally let up.

Carefully sitting up, I nudge Murph in the back since he's now stomach down beside me. "Murph."

"Mmm," he grunts.

"Murph, I think my water just broke," I tell him, brushing my hand across his back to keep him awake.

Turns out, the extra isn't needed because it's all of two seconds after the words leave my lips that he pops up on his elbows to stare at me. "Did you say your water broke? Are you sure?"

I nod, my eyes swimming with tears. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's all in the bed."

He jumps to his knees and palms my cheeks before kissing me. "Don't be sorry, baby. It's okay. I'm going to wake the others so we can get you to the hospital. Will you be okay for a few minutes?"

Wiping the tears off my face, I nod again, and he hops up out of bed. The door gets flung open a little harder than necessary in his haste, but I'm not worried about that. I want to try to get his sheets off the bed and mattress cleaned up before we leave. It'll be gross and embarrassing if it leaves a stain. I'm in the middle of stripping it bare when another wave of pain has me bending double and digging my face into the edge of the mattress. Holding my belly with my face buried like an ostrich is how Evan finds me.

His hands drift over my back as he murmurs in my ear until the pain finally stops. "You okay, love? Here, sit down."

He waits until I'm sitting and he's kneeling in front of me before asking, "What were you doing? We need to get you dressed for the hospital."

"I was cleaning Murphy's bed," I admit, wiping my cheek with the back of my hand. "My water broke, and I didn't want it to stain."

"Oh, love," he says, standing to kiss my forehead. He reaches to the foot of the bed where he obviously set my hospital clothes. "No one is worried about the bed. Let's get you dressed."

Murph is wide eyed and alert when he comes strolling back in with a warm cloth in hand. He hands it off to Evan as he goes to throw on his own clothes, the latter using it to wipe my legs after helping me undress. Once I'm clean, he helps me step into fresh panties and stretchy pants. Ollie comes racing around the corner just as they cover my hips.

He swallows hard and slows his pace to a walk, obviously trying to contain his excitement so as not to stress me out. "We've got the bags ready to go by the door, babycakes. Just waiting on you."

"Okay," I squeeze out as Evan holds open a shirt over my head for me to put my arms through. I hear his footsteps as he runs back out into the hallway and crashes into someone else. Thatcher, if the umph sound is anything to go by. I can only imagine them in my head running around and trying to toss clothes on while doing their best not to panic. We weren't ready for it to be this soon, which sends a wave of panic over me.

"It's too early," I blurt, grasping tightly to Evan's forearms. "The baby still needs four more weeks!"

He opens his mouth to speak, but Murph beats him to it, surprising us both with his words. "Actually, a baby's lungs and all its other important bits are fully formed and ready to go at thirty-six weeks, so it'll be okay."

His voice on top of his words soothe the worry thumping a rhythm through my heart right now. As they take their time helping me out of the house, I can't help but be grateful for how on top of things Ollie has stayed. Were it not for him, we might not have been packed and ready to go as quickly as we were tonight.

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