Page 86 of Holiday Romance
“When you say taking it slow,” I mutter, and he smiles before kissing me again.
“You want to make out on your bed?”
“And make all my teenage dreams come true?” Yes, yes, I do. But before I can push him down on the sagging mattress and act out seventeen-year-old me’s fantasies, we’re interrupted by Zoe calling my name from below.
“If this interrupting family thing becomes a habit for us,” I begin, and he laughs, sitting back on his heels. “Ready to meet my parents?” I ask, accepting his hand as he helps me to my feet. “Mam is—”
I break off with an annoyed huff as Zoe calls me again. And even though it’s been years, I’m so used to the sound of my sister shrieking at me that my first instinct is to ignore it. But a second later she yells it a third time, only this one is followed by a short, piercing scream.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I go down the stairs so fast I almost trip. Andrew actually does, stumbling over the bottom step as we find Zoe standing in the middle of the kitchen. She’s bent double, one hand grasping the back of a chair, her face screwed up in pain.
“I’m fine,” she says when she sees us. “Sorry, I’m fine.”
“You screamed!”
“I’m dramatic. I just—” Her lips press together as she barely holds back a groan. Andrew curses softly beside me.
“Are you having contractions?”
She shakes her head. “Fake ones.”
“They don’t look fake,” I say.
“They’re Braxton Hicks. It’s a thing. It’s a known thing.” She has to force the last word out as another one hits, her knuckles turning white as she collapses into the chair. “JesusChrist.”
“We should go to the hospital,” I say as Andrew crouches beside her. She immediately grabs hold of his hand, and he doesn’t even wince as she proceeds to squeeze the bones off him. “Zoe? Hospital?”
Zoe just rolls her eyes, or as much as she can roll her eyes while her uterus is gripping itself like a stress ball. “I’ll just have a bath.”
“How will that help!”
“I don’t know! Stop yelling at me!”
Andrew acts as a steadying weight as she attempts to stand and she grunts a thank you as she gets to her feet.
As she does, I see a wet patch spreading rapidly down her pants. It’s only through sheer force of will that I swallow my gasp.
Andrew follows my gaze and, to be fair to the man, he doesn’t so much as flinch as he looks quickly back to me, eyebrows raised.
“Zoe? Honey?” I keep my voice as gentle as possible. “I think your waters just broke.”
“I probably just peed myself. You do that a lot when you have a human pressing on your bladder.”
“I don’t think you peed yourself and I don’t think these are fake contractions. I think you’re having your baby.”
Zoe stares at me, looking genuinely confused and extremely irritated.
My sister is not an idiot. We battled it out at school together to get top of our classes. She beat me by three points in our final exams. She does theNew York Timescrossword every day and once learned Portuguese in six months because I bet her she couldn’t.
She’s not an idiot. But she is, and always has been, a stubborn brat, and right now, seems so completely set in her ways that the alternative is unthinkable to her.
I try again. “You’re going into—”
“I’m not going to labor,” she says, irritation winning out over confusion. “Don’t be stupid. You’re stupid.”
“Zoe—”
