A Kiss for a Kiss (All In 4)

He’s become my confidant, my biggest supporter, and my best friend. He’s thoughtful, kind, and compassionate. He’s driven, intense, and take-charge in his work life. He’s an incredible, attentive lover and partner. And I can’t wait to raise this child with him, because I already know what a phenomenal father he is.

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THE NEXT NIGHT there’s a game in Seattle. I sometimes attend them with the girls, but with me being so far along, it’s tough to sit in one of those seats for three hours. And I constantly have to pee, so I’ll have to wait until after the baby arrives before I can go again.

Tonight, Queenie is keeping me company. She arrives as Jake is heading out the door.

“I’ll have my phone on me the entire time. Call if you need anything.” He puts his hand on my belly but directs the comment at Queenie.

I smooth my hands over the lapels of his suit jacket and adjust his tie. “We’ll be fine. Go do your job.”

“My job is to make sure you and JJ are comfortable before anything else.” He presses a lingering kiss to my lips.

“We’re good. And I have Queenie. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I send him out the door, and Queenie and I settle in to watch the game.

“How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” Queenie’s sitting at the other end of the couch, hand stitching felt animals for the mobile she’s making for the baby.

“I’m good.” I shift around, trying to get comfortable, but my lower back has been aching all day. Probably because I snuck in a quick vacuum when Jake went out to pick up more fruit for me. It’s basically all I’ve been eating the past few days.

“Are you sure? You keep grimacing. Do you want me to move the laundry from the lounger and you can sit there?”

“Those are your dad’s dirty socks.”

Queenie’s nose wrinkles. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I totally am.” I rub my belly when it feels like JJ is doing somersaults. “He’s moving, want to feel?”

“Oh! Yes!” Queenie slides across the couch, and I take her hand, placing it over my belly as JJ does another spin in his cramped quarters. “He’s really moving around in there, isn’t he?”

“This is his most active time of day.” I pat my belly. “Not long now, little man.” I cringe at the sharp pain that shoots across my stomach.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Lots of Braxton Hicks lately. And I’ve been eating a ton of fruit, so that’s been a thing.”

I manage to make it to the end of the first period before I have to waddle to the bathroom. I don’t even get the door closed before a gush of warmth makes me pause. For a second I think I’ve peed my pants, until I realize I haven’t.

“Oh crap.” I watch as the grey sweats darken at the crotch.

When I gave birth to Ryan, it all happened so fast. Faster than I thought possible. I had a midwife, and we’d planned a home birth. Something that wasn’t as common as it is these days. My parents had wanted to limit the number of people who knew I was pregnant. He’d been in breech, and it had taken time to get him turned around. It hadn’t been comfortable, and I hadn’t had an epidural, but within four hours of my first contraction, I’d been holding him in my arms.

“Queenie! Can I get a hand?”

I can hear her running down the hall. The bathroom door flies open as the first contraction hits. It’s mild, but I grab the edge of the vanity to steady myself.

“Oh my gosh. Is it time?” Her wide eyes shift to my wet sweats. “It’s time!”

I nod. “It’s time.”

She flails and takes a step toward me. “Do you need to sit down? I need to get the bag. We have to go to the hospital. I need to call my dad.”

I raise a hand and smile. “Take a breath, Queenie. The baby isn’t coming in the next five minutes.”

“Right. Okay. Sorry. I’m supposed to be your support, not the other way around.”

“Well, to be fair, I’ve done this before and you haven’t.”

She inhales deeply and exhales a slow breath, collecting herself. “What do you need me to do first?”

“Can you bring me my phone and then start the car?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” She rushes down the hall and reappears a handful of seconds later with my phone in her hand.

“My bag is sitting on top of the bed in the spare room. Can you grab that for me, please?” I’ve slept in there maybe a handful of times since I’ve moved in. Mostly when I’m uncomfortable and thrashing around like an angry walrus in the middle of the night and don’t want to keep Jake up. Even on those nights, I usually spend an hour in the spare room and go back to our bed when I inevitably have to make another trip to the bathroom.