Page 94 of One Timer With A Wingman

“No worries.” He waves.

I waddle out of the kitchen, heading toward the bathroom on the main floor. As I’m walking my legs get wet. “Shit, I think I just pissed myself,” I say to myself, but when I turn around, Ruby and Aaron are following me.

“Ah, Briar,” Ruby says, sounding panicked. “I think your water broke. I don’t think piss falls out of you the same way.”

“Phew, that would’ve been really embarrassing,” I reply then I blink. “Wait, what?”

The words marinate as panic settles in. “Holy shit, are you saying Briar is in labor”? Aaron asks wide-eyed.

“That’s what I’m saying.” Ruby bobs her head repetitively.

“Okay, guys, we need to chill the heck out and get me to a hospital before I deliver Nugget in the Bronco,” I say to Ruby and Aaron. Mack is still in the kitchen. I don’t know if it’s because he’s scared to come out here.

“Damn, we didn’t pack our bags for the hospital yet,” Aaron says.

“I didn’t buy the baby a sleeper to come home in. We don’t have clothes for our baby,” I begin to cry.

“Okay, relax, this is going to be fine,” Ruby soothes. “Aaron, you take Briar to the hospital. I’ll pack her a bag and go pick up some baby stuff.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Shit, where did I leave my keys?” Aaron asks, walking all over the house looking for them.

“I think you left them at the front door, S-shit. . .” Another contraction hits and I howl from pain.

“What should I do? Should I pick you up?” Aaron offers.

“I’m soaking wet. Maybe grab a towel so I don’t get the Bronco dirty,” I say to him.

“I don’t care about the Bronco right now,” he counters.

“Aaron, please. We also don’t have the car seat installed. OMG, our baby won’t be allowed to leave the hospital.”

“Mack, get out here,” Ruby shouts.

He peeks through the kitchen door. “I thought the kitchen may be safer now.”

“Come, we need to go get them what they need,” she says to him.

“Here, take my credit card,” Aaron says to Mack. “Briar, let’s go. If your water broke then that baby could be coming sooner rather than later.”

We head toward the door. Aaron has his keys and his hand is at my lower back.

“Ah, guys,” Ruby says. “You aren’t wearing shoes.”

“Shit,” Aaron growls.

“We can’t even leave the house like normal humans. How are we going to raise our son?” I start to cry.

“No, don’t cry, Buttercup,” Aaron pleads. He helps me slip into the white Crocs I have at the door and he puts on his sneakers. We head out to the Bronco. Aaron places a towel on the seat and helps me into the car.

“I can’t believe how unprepared we are,” I pout.

“We’ll be fine. Think positive,” he says.

“How can you be so positive at a time like this?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “My dad always taught me that under stress I should only have positive thoughts.”

I take a deep breath and try to focus on good things. We are going to be able to meet our little Atlas soon.

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