Page 44 of Tides That Bind

Immediately, my mood sours, remembering how Riley left it out there even after I asked him to take care of it.

I strip down and shake my head, deciding to open the box and make sure nothing is damaged after I shower because nothing honestly feels more important than relaxing my tense muscles under hot water and detangling my hair.

I’m rinsing the shampoo, about to reach for the conditioner when I slap my palm against the tiled wall as I lurch forward in surprise.

This time, I watch my stomach, how it rounds and protrudes as the tightening at the base of my belly happens again.

I want to count, but, honestly, I’m scared to breathe.

There’s an obvious drop to my pregnant belly when all of a sudden my muscles relax.

“I’m calling Claire,” I say out loud, tilting my hair back into the stream to wet it so I can condition properly. My mother-in-law, blessher heart, has an uncanny ability to calm me down and I’m hoping if I hear from her this is all normal, I’ll believe it.

There’s another boom of thunder, but this time it doesn’t startle me. I’m too preoccupied. I reach out for the conditioner and my fingertips are about to graze the bottle when, suddenly, everything goes black.

But I can still feel the water running, still feel the shower floor below me as I grip my toes. If I stretch my fingers, I feel the conditioner bottle.

“Power outage. Great.” I raise my head up and groan. “What else can I expect today?”

It probably isn’t best to be heavily pregnant in the shower when I can’t see anything, so I turn the water off and push open the door, fanning my hand along the wall for a towel that barely wraps around me.

I drip water across the bathroom floor as I feel my way to the doorway and step carefully to my bed where I left my phone. But something inside me stops me from calling Claire, afraid it will just make it worse to have someone to talk to who isn’t here.

Due to proximity, I call Riley.

“The power went out.”

“Oh,” Riley says. “I thought it was just me.”

There’s another boom of thunder. My heart begins to pound.

“You’re in your apartment?” I ask.

“Where else would I be in this weather? Bet you the waves are killer but I can’t surf when there’s lightning. I know you’re annoyed I’m being responsible by not risking getting electrocuted.”

I take a deep breath. “Can…can you come home?”

“Home?” Riley asks.

I shake my head as if he can see it. “I mean here,” I clarify. “To the house.”

“What? Are you afraid of the dark?”

“No, you—”

I can’t breathe through this one either and tears sting my eyes when the pain radiates to my back.

“Harper.” Riley laughs. “It’s just a blackout. Light a candle and—"

“No, I’m not afraid of the dark, you idiot. I’m afraid I’m in labor.”

I’m met with silence on the line.

And silence in the house.

But the quiet around me does draw sound—my nervous, heavy breathing and the uptick in my pulse when I realize I might have this baby entirely on my own.

There’s no mother to hold my hand and tell me what I’m doing is right.

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