Page 43 of Wrong Number, Right Cougar

“Ummm, it is.”

We invited them to join us, but they poo-pooed that suggestion, saying we needed to enjoy our time alone. I suspected they also preferred to be by themselves, so with the diner packed with nosy neighbors, everyone knew everyone else’s business as usual.

“Alone with a diner full of people,” I quipped.

Wilder had brought a cushion, and he tucked it behind my back as I slid into the booth. My belly was so big, there was little space between me and the table. I slipped off my sandals because my feet were swollen. None of my other shoes fit.

We ordered, and I picked at my food. Wilder noticed because he was very attentive, but I explained the bad heartburn and that I’d nibble a little here and a little there as it eased.

Despite the padded seat, I couldn’t get comfortable. Coming out had been a mistake, and we should have stayed home when I could have been on the couch eating cup noodles. I’d had few cravings since becoming pregnant but cup noodles was one of them, and I couldn’t get enough.

My back was aching. Not a surprise, as I was almost nine months pregnant.

“We can take our food to go.” Wilder rubbed a foot against my swollen one.

“No, we’re here now. Let’s just finish eating and leave.”

I stabbed a French fry with my fork and bit off a tiny piece. Chewing and swallowing took forever, and I put the fork down. Dad came over to say he and Noah were leaving but he’d come up to the house tomorrow and batch cook for us.

“Thorn, what’s wrong?” Dad peered at me.

I shrugged. “Just tired, and everywhere hurts. My feet, back, butt, and especially my tummy. I’ve got terrible heartburn.”

“You sure that’s what it is?”

I grimaced, my tummy tightening as Dad waited for an answer. “Owww!” I slid my butt over the seat and swiveled my legs to the side. Wilder helped me up, and heads turned in our direction as I moaned when my belly cramped.

“He’s in labor,” many of the diner patrons yelled.

“No, I’m not. It’s heartburn.”

“Sweetheart.” Dad rubbed my back. “This is how my labor with you started.”

“Is it possible you’re about to have the baby?” Wilder furrowed his brow.

“No!” Oh, that was louder than I intended, but the pain in my belly was hurty. “Sorry, love. Labor takes hours, sometimes days, and it wouldn’t start with this gut-wrenching pain. It would build up gradually.

My dad and Wilder shared a glance, and people crowded around, regaling me with their labor stories. According to everyone in the diner, labor could be very quick. I’d read that happened in some cases, but for most omegas, it was long and drawn out. How likely was it that I’d be one of the few to experience a short labor?

“My labor with you was about thirty minutes from start to finish.” That was Dad.

“Now you tell me!”

“Make way, everyone. I need to get Thorn out.” Wilder was shooing people away.

“Ahhh.” My belly contracted so hard, I pictured a giant pair of hands squeezing me, wringing the breath out of my lungs.

“Your water broke.” Dad was pointing at the puddle at my feet.

“Sorry,” I sobbed. “Sorry. So sorry.” I was apologizing to anyone and everyone and wishing the pain would disappear.

Wilder scooped me up, but I had an urge to push. That couldn’t be right. The contractions had to push the baby down the birth canal, and I’d only had a handful. The baby wasn’t ready and neither was I. It was rushed, and I needed time to ready myself for the birth. Perhaps another day or two. I needed a good night’s sleep to prepare for labor.

“It’s too late.” Dad grabbed Wilder’s arm. “He’s having the baby here.” He got everyone out of the diner, but instead of leaving, they crowded outside, some talking on their phones.

“Tell them not to film me.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll destroy their devices if they even think about it.” Wilder kissed my brow.

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