Page 136 of 12 Months of Mayhem

She leans closer to me, purposely keeping her voice low enough the kids can’t hear her. “Why are you so hell bent on keeping the kids close? What’s going on, Rex? Enough of the bullshit.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why are you so hesitant about me taking the kids through the funhouse?”

“Fine,” I relent, carefully lifting Birdie off my shoulders and setting her down next to Beaux. “What kind of drinks does everyone want?”

After taking their orders, I watch as they join the short line for the funhouse. Rem glances back at me, concern evident in her eyes. I force a smile and give her a thumbs up, which she returns hesitantly before turning her attention back to the kids. I turn to leave, scanning the nearby food stalls for drinks, when I hear Beaux’s voice rise above the crowd noise.

“Mama, are you okay?”

My heart skips a beat as I whirl around. The world seems to slow down, sounds muffling as I focus on Rem. She’s hunched over slightly, one hand pressed against her swollen belly, the other gripping Beaux’s shoulder. Her face is contorted in pain, those beautiful green eyes squeezed shut.

My feet are moving before I even realize it, pushing through the throng of costumed revelers. The crowd seems to part around me, or maybe I’m just shoving my way through, I don’t care. All I can see is Rem, her chest heaving as she tries to breathe through whatever’s happening.

“Rem!” I call out. “What’s wrong?”

I reach her just as her knees start to buckle. My arms wrap around her instinctively, supporting her body. She leans into me, her body trembling.

“Rex,” she gasps, her voice tight with pain. “It’s...a contraction.”

Birdie’s eyes are wide with concern, her little hand clutching at Rem’s shirt. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear the chaos of the parade around us. Rem’s face is pale, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. She grips my arm tightly, her nails digging into my skin as another contraction hits.

“Fuck,” she hisses, her eyes squeezing shut.

I’m frozen, my mind racing. It’s too early. The baby isn’t due for another three months. This can’t be happening, not here, not now.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” I say.

Rem shakes her head, her breathing labored. “Don’t...don’t scare the kids. “I look down at Beaux and Birdie. They don’t fully understand what’s happening, and Rem’s right - we can’t panic them.

“Mama’s just feeling a little sick.” She manages a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why don’t you two go ahead into the funhouse? We’ll be right here when you come out.”

Beaux hesitates, his blue eyes darting between us. “Are you sure, Mama?”

“Of course, baby.”

They’re gone before I can utter a word to stop them. I start after them, but Rem sags against me, her body trembling. I wrap my arms around her, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest against mine. The crowd swirls around us, but all I can focus on is Rem. Her skin is clammy, and I can see the pain etched in the lines around her eyes.

“How long has this been going on?” I ask, trying to keep my own fear from bleeding into my voice.

Rem takes a shaky breath. “I’ve been having contractions on and off for a few weeks,” she admits, not meeting my eyes. “The doctor said it was just Braxton Hicks. Normal for this stage of pregnancy.”

My heart drops. Weeks? She’s been dealing with this for weeks and didn’t tell me? I want to be angry, but the fear in her eyes stops me cold. This isn’t the time for accusations.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument.

“No,” she demands. “They’ll pass like they always do.”

I stare at her in disbelief, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. ‘

“We need to go to the hospital, baby. You’re in pain,” I declare, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm.

She takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as she straightens up. Her hand is still pressed against her swollen belly, but her eyes meet mine with that fierce resolve I’ve always loved and feared in equal measure.

“I know my body, Rex,” she says, her tone softening. “If we rush to the hospital every time I feel something, we’ll be living there until the baby comes.”

I’m about to argue further when Rem’s grip on my arm is tightening painfully. Another contraction hits, and this time, she can’t hold back a low moan of pain. My heart races as I watch her struggle through it, counting the seconds in my head. It lasts nearly a minute before she relaxes slightly, her breath coming in short gasps.

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