Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(106)
“You are not reading that!” I gasp.
“Why not? You did.”
“I give you five minutes, tops. Ten if you read the introduction.”
He opens the book then peers at me over the top of it. “You think I’m not man enough to read about childbirth? Like I can’t handle it?”
“You’ll see,” I promise.
I go back to my own book. But a few minutes later he makes a small gagging sound.
“Uh huh,” I say. “What was it that got to you?”
“Mucus plug.”
“Keep reading, big boy. You haven’t gotten to placentas yet.”
“I can take it,” he says, sounding a little smug.
“There’s a chapter about eating your own placenta.”
“What?” he yelps. “You’re just fucking with me now.”
“You wish, tough guy.”
“Do you have a birth plan?” he asks.
“No.”
“It says here you need one.”
“I have eighteen days,” I point out. “And I haven’t figured out if I want an epidural. That’s chapter three.”
“Hmm,” he says, flipping pages.
We go back to reading, but my back is killing me. I spend an inordinate amount of time adjusting my pillows.
“You okay?” Eric asks.
“Sure. My back just aches. I’ve been spending a lot of time on my feet.”
He looks at me over the top of the book. “That’s a sign of early labor.”
“Really? You’re on page fifty, and you’re an expert now?” Just like a man.
“Hey, Bingley?” he says.
“Yes, my liege!”
“For a pregnant woman, what are the signs of early labor?”
Oh, this is rich. He’s using my own butler against me?
“My lord, some signs of early labor include: fluid leaking from the vagina, cramping, and lower back pain.”
“Thank you, Bingley.” He closes the book. “Is it your lower back?”
“Well, sure,” I grumble. “But doesn’t your lower back ache sometimes?”
Eric shakes his head slowly.
“Mine does.”
“Fine,” he says quietly. “But if you think you might be in labor, raise your hand, okay? The snow might be an issue.”
“I’m not in labor!” I can’t be. “It’s too early.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “Okay. You’re the expert.”
I try to keep reading, but it’s no good. I can’t follow the story because now I’m panicking a little. “The, uh, backaches come and go.”
Eric closes the childbirth book. “How often do they do that?”
“I’m not sure. It aches right now.”
“Bingley!” Eric says. “Time this. Starting now.”
“Yessir.”
He rolls toward me. “Come here.” When I adjust my giant body, he reaches around and starts rubbing my lower back.
“Ohhhhhh…yes. Yes yes yes. Keep doing that. Please.” It feels so good, I want to weep. After a couple minutes I exhale, and the pain leaves.
“Better?”
“Yeah.” We lie together in silence for a while. Until I say, “Uh oh.”
“It hurts again?”
“Yep. Bingley, how much time has passed?”
“Nine minutes, my queen.”
“Okay,” Eric says softly. “Nine minutes is no big deal. The book says you could have contractions for twenty-four hours before it’s even time to go to the hospital.”
“Right.” I blow out a breath. “I’m nervous. I’m not ready.”
“I’ll bet nobody is ever really ready,” he says kindly. “But you’ll be fine.”
“You don’t scare easily.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t. Not much scares me. Not even a mucus plug.”
I giggle. “Most men would be running for the door right now.”
“Not me.” He kisses me on the nose. “I told you. I’m here for this.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. “Would it be a bad time to tell you that my mother had me on the back seat of the car? She didn’t make it to the hospital.”
He stops smiling. “Why not?”
“I showed up really fast.”
“Is that…” He clears his throat. “A hereditary thing, you think?”
“Probably not, right?” We blink at each other for a long moment. “What time did you say it was going to stop snowing?”
“Midnight.”
“And what time is it now?”
“Six forty-seven p.m.!” Bingley announces. “It is five hours and thirteen minutes until midnight.”
“Thank you, Bingley,” Eric says with a sigh.
“You just thanked a computer program,” I point out.
“I’ll thank all kinds of inanimate objects if the baby can just sit tight for one more night.”
She doesn’t.
By nine p.m., my back pains turn into front pains, and the space between them narrows from nine minutes down to four.