Page 70 of Accidentally Yours

“I’m fine. Just a little pain. It’s gone now.” I smiled.

The shop was packed with customers. I was giving a demo of theBlocked & Bathingbath bomb to a group of thirty-something-year-olds and one heartbroken divorcee when an excruciating cramp hit out of nowhere. I froze mid-sentence, one hand gripping the bath bomb and the other gripping the shelf.

“Are you okay?” one of the women asked.

“I’m totally fine.” I forced a smile. “I just ate some peanut butter pretzels, and I don’t think they agreed with me. Now, back to what I was saying about the bath bombs.” Another cramp hit, this time harder than the first. By this time, I was hunched over, gripping the counter.

“Nope. Not the pretzels,” one of the other women said. “That right there is a bona fide contraction.” She grinned. “Yay. You’re in labor.”

“I’m not due for another two weeks,” I said.

“That doesn’t matter. When babies are ready to be born, they come. They don’t care about due dates. My daughter was three weeks early.”

Natalie, one of my sales associates who was restocking theTears & Bubblesbath bombs, looked at me.

“Wait, you’re in labor, Willa? Do you want me to call Damien?”

“No,” I said, gasping. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve been having little fake ones for days. It’s like my uterus is auditioning for Broadway.”

“Oh my God. This is so exciting,” one of the other women spoke. “Do you have a birth plan? Because a birth plan is very important.”

“I do. Step one: Do not have the baby here.”

Another contraction hit. I slammed my hand on the counter and accidentally knocked over someone’sEmotionally Overdrawnbox on the floor, contents spilling out everywhere.

“Oh my God,” one of the patrons in the store shouted. “She’s going to give birth next to the heartbreak candle display!”

“I am not. Oh God, maybe I am! Natalie, call Damien now!”

“Here, try this,” a woman handed me a peppermint lip balm from theMama Needs A Minutebox.

The bell above the door jingled, and when I looked over, I saw Damien. He ran over to where I stood and hooked his arm around me.

“How did you get here so fast? Natalie called you like two seconds ago.”

“I was already on my way to see if you wanted to go to lunch. I was right down the street. Come on. We have to get you to the hospital.”

“Oh God. Wait.” I screeched, gripping my belly.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart.”

He had no idea what this felt like. So, for him to say something he had no idea about irritated me. I stared at him through the contraction as I broke out into a sweat.

“You did this to me,” I growled. “With your stupid face and your emotionally unavailable hands.”

“Sweetheart, I think you mean?—”

“Don’t finish that sentence if you ever want to have sex again. Because right now, I will kill you if you even think about touching me. Can someone get my purse? Some drugs, and a uterus evacuation plan? Because I need this kid out of my body right NOW!”

We arrived at the hospital and were immediately taken to the OB unit. After changing into a gown, the nurse hooked me up to the fetal monitor. Another contraction hit, and I was done.

“I changed my mind,” I gasped, gripping the side rail of the hospital bed like I was about to rip it off. “I’m not doing this.”

“You can’t just—” he paused. “Not do this, Willa. The baby is coming.”

“Did you just mansplain labor to me?” My eyes narrowed.

“No. Not at all. I’m offering you support, sweetheart.”

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