Page 93 of Holiday Wedding
We pose for a couple more pictures, then follow the rest of the cast into the movie theater where the premiere will be held.
I pick a long piece of gray dog hair off the bodice of my dress. “Hope those photos don’t include this little detail.” I shake it off my hand, laughing.
Caleb watches as it flutters to the ground. “Was that from Harry or Sally?” he asks, referring to the two puppies he surprised me with a month after we got married.
“Definitely Harry,” I say. “That was husky dog fur, not retriever like Sally.” Thinking about our goofy dogs makes me grin. At first, I felt overwhelmed when he brought them home.
“Is it a good idea?” I had asked him. “Having baby dogs and a baby human at the same time?”
Caleb had been confident. “It’s a great idea. This way, they can grow up together.” His words reminded me of Pip, who was so often my best friend during my childhood. That was all it took to convince me to keep the pups. Now, I hardly remember what life was like before them, with their joyful barks, slobbery dog kisses, and wagging tails. This baby will be so lucky to be raised with two furry siblings.
We start down the stairs to our seats. I watch my feet, careful not to trip in my tall heels. Right before we sit, I gasp from a sharp pain that ripples across my belly. I press a hand to my abdomen. A tiny foot kicks against my rib cage, followed by a tightening sensation.
“Are you okay?” Caleb says at my side, with his hand pressed over mine. This is his new favorite pastime—to feel the baby moving.
I take a cleansing breath. “I’m fine. It’s nothin—ow!” The pain is back, evensharper. I reach out blindly and end up with one hand on Caleb’s arm and the other on Dean’s. The two men crowd me, alarm written all over their faces.
“We need to get her out of here,” Caleb tells Dean.
“No. We’ll miss your show,” I protest, then suck in a breath as another wave of agony roars through me. It leaves me dizzy, gasping.
“Who cares?” Caleb cries out. “What if you’re in labor?”
Unable to argue, I pant through the pain. It’s like an iron vise is clamped around my belly, tightening more with each passing minute. Together, Dean and Caleb hustle me back up the stairs and outside. Luckily, most of the reporters have left now that the red-carpet portion of the evening is over. I try to keep a calm façade, but I can’t hide the bead of sweat that runs from my hairline down to my jaw.
Dean’s talking on his phone, his body turned away so I can’t hear him. He must have called Jenny because she pulls up in her compact four-door sedan.
“You look pretty,” I get out when she rushes over, her eyes wide with alarm.
I hadn’t seen her yet tonight, so this is the first glimpse I get of the long gold dress she wears. It hugs her curves in all the right places. Jenny doesn’t pull at her clothing the way she used to. She doesn’t frown in the mirror like she did when we were growing up. Even in the haze of my pain, I can appreciate that my friend is finally comfortable in her own skin.
“Thanks,” Jenny says distractedly. She holds onto the side of the car and balances as she unstraps her shoes from her feet.
“What’re you doing?” Dean pulls the passenger door open and climbs in.
“Have you seen these things?” She lifts them up, showing off six-inch spike heels. “I can’t drive over five miles an hour in them.”
A sharp jab in my belly has me hissing through my teeth.
Caleb rubs my back, making soothing noises. “We need to get her to the hospital,” he says urgently.
“Hurry, get in.” Jenny waves her arm frantically, as if she’s on a runway trying to land an airplane.
There’s an awkward moment where Caleb has to shove from behind to fit me through the small doorway. Like a cork coming loose from a champagne bottle, I pop into the car and struggle into the back seat. Caleb sits next tome with his hand on my belly. Jenny looks over her shoulder at the advancing traffic. She guns the engine and merges into the closest lane.
“I’m not ready,” I tell Caleb as I grip his arm. Panic is setting in. “I need more time. What if I’m a bad mom? What if the baby hates me? What if—I—”
“Shh,” Caleb says, brushing a sweaty tangle of hair back from my face. “You’re going to be a great mom, Gwen. The best. This child and I are lucky to have you.” His voice is gentle, soothing.
I relax at the sound of it.
At least until the next contraction hits.
I hiss in pain. My fingers dig into his arm so hard I know I’ll leave bruises.
“Sorry. Ow! It hurts,” I exclaim, curling around my swollen belly.
With an edge of panic, Caleb shouts, “Jenny, drive faster!”
