Actually, make that every guy’s nuts off.
Not so miraculously, she didn’t like this whole labor business, not one little bit. “Okay,” she said to her belly, rubbing the insidious tightness swirling through her gut. “I need you to give me a little more time. Can you do that, hold on for your momma? Please?”
The pain actually faded, and she let out a breath. “Thank you. Because I promised your aunt Lizzy we weren’t in labor yet, so let’s just keep that promise, okay?”
She’d read in one of the hundred books that Lizzy had brought her that even once her water broke she still had twenty-four hours before things went wrong.
That hadn’t happened yet so that was good. “Real good,” she whispered, with no idea if she was talking to herself or the baby, but she thought, hoped, if she said it out loud, it would make it so.
She moved to the window of the second floor of the small condo she’d rented a few months ago—her first true sign of independence. Every day the place gave her a sense of panic—the expenses were a weight about as heavy as the baby—and also a glorious, heady sense of pride. She was making it, on her own…
She looked out into the wildest weather she’d ever seen, and had a moment before she reverted and wished her sister was here. Lizzy would know what to do. She always knew what to do. She was Cece’s lifeline, and had been nearly all her life.
She’d come, Cece knew, assuring herself, even though she’d told her not to. Lizzy would come when she got off work, and being as bossy as she was, she’d probably demand they go straight to the hospital.
Which might actually be a good idea. She had a feeling it was time. All she needed was a ride. If she had a neighbor she trusted, that’d be one thing. But she’d never been good with trust. Unless it was a gorgeous guy. Those she’d trusted too easily, and look where that had gotten her.
The next pain hit her unawares and left her reeling. “Oh, shit,” she whispered. This was going to suck golf balls, and forget being a grown-up, she wanted Lizzy. She tried calling her again, to admit that maybe she was in labor, but her damn cell phone went dead.
And she had no electricity to charge it.
Oh, God.
Screw not trusting a neighbor, she needed one. Problem was, the condo on her right was empty and for sale. She’d known someone had just bought the condo on her left, but she hadn’t yet seen any sign of life. She imagined waddling over there, knocking, then greeting whoever answered with, “Hi, there. Ever delivered a baby before?”
The thought made her shudder.
No. No strangers. It was bad enough the father-to-be was a stranger, coaxing her into his badass truck one night, dumping her he next.
God, she hated the helplessness. She thought about walking to the hospital. From here it was only two miles, but in the storm, with contractions, that might as well have been a marathon. Besides, it was too risky. She could fall. She could get halfway there and go into the final stages of labor, alone. That thought terrified her even more than having a stranger help her.
Karma was such a bitch. “I’ve turned my life around,” she reminded the room. “I stopped finding trouble. I stopped letting it find me.” She’d even gotten a real job. She was going back to school, taking classes at the junior college. She was making it all work, for the first time in her life, taking charge of her own destiny instead of letting it rule her. “I am!”
But Karma wasn’t listening.
“I promise,” she whispered to God, to Lizzy, to whoever listened to such recklessly whispered promises, “if I get out of this mess, this last mess, I’ll keep it together. I will. Just give me one little break!”
She felt a funny sort of pop, then the warm wetness on her thighs and, cringing, she looked down.
With a sigh, she shook her head. “Not the ‘break’ I meant, but thanks, Karma. Thanks a whole hell of a lot.”
LIZZY GASPED AT the slap of cold rain as she and Jason ran through the storm toward her car. There she grabbed her bag and they turned to Jason’s Jeep. A heavy gust had her staggering backward, fighting gravity, but Jason was behind her. “Sorry,” she gasped, her back plastered to his chest.
He merely slid an arm around her waist, helping her secure her balance. His feet were planted. He was a solid rock behind her.
But she was a rock, too.
And well used to managing on her own. She struggled to regain her footing, determined to do so, extremely aware of the fact that he stayed right at her back until she did, only dropping his arm when she nodded.
Water ran down her in rivulets, making her grateful he’d given her the rain gear, and she stared in disbelief at the street, which appeared to be under a sheet of water.