Page 139 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
She glares at me. “I’ll walk.”
“Okay,” I say softly. “I was just trying to help.”
“I was just trying to help,” she mimics.
Wow, she really is in pain. She’s never this sassy with me.
We check in at the front and they call up to labor and delivery that we’re coming.
In the elevator, Harlow leans her forehead against the stainless-steel surface. “I better be dilated by a lot because it feels like a bowling ball is knocking at my vagina’s door and demanding exit. There’s so much pressure.”
I try to imagine what she’s describing and cringe. That doesn’t sound pleasant at all.
We check in at the intercom outside the unit before being buzzed in.
Upon entering, Harlow holds up a hand and waves at the nurse’s station. “This is not false labor this time, I swear.”
Someone laughs and I wonder if they’ve been here the other three times we showed up.
“This baby wantsout,” Harlow tells them. “Like now.”
We’re led to a room and Harlow’s given a gown to change into.
“Well,” the nurse determines a little bit later. “You are in active labor this time. But the bad news is you’re only three centimeters dilated.”
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Harlow groans. “This baby is stubborn.”
“It’s your first,” the nurse explains. “That first one usually wants to stay in a while.”
“Well, I want them out,” Harlow declares. “Right now.”
The nurse gives her a reassuring pat on her hand. “Patience. This will all be over before you know it.”
As she exits the room, Harlow gives me a look that seems to saythat’s unlikely.
Smoothing her hair back from her forehead, I say, “Don’t stress about the dilation. Try to relax and focus on breathing.”
She smacks my hand away. “Shut the fuck up and focus on your own breathing before I choke you.”
I lean back in the chair beside her bed and stay silent.
Well, then.
CHAPTER 54
HARLOW
“Harlow? Are you okay?”
I drop my bags and sprint for the bathroom, dropping to my knees and making it to the toilet just in time to empty the contents of my stomach.
I wasn’t expecting to walk into my apartment to Spencer and Jameson sitting on my couch chatting like old friends.
I didn’t lock the door behind me in my haste, and cool fingers brush the back of my neck, pulling my hair away.
“Are you sick again, baby?” Jameson asks.
Sick over my own actions? Yeah. Sick the way he means? No.
