I glanced at the clock.
Five minutes left.
“All right, ladies!” I screamed. “Now you hold it!”
And they did.
For five minutes, they busted their asses to hold the 1-0 lead.
And we won.
The crowd went wild.
My man came up to hug me tight.
And more of my water leaked down into my favorite shoes.
There was no way that everyone didn’t notice that I looked like I’d peed my pants.
The team came in to get their medals and their trophy.
We gathered for pictures.
And I caught Bossy by the ponytail when she went to dart in close to her best friend.
“Nope.”
“What, why?” she grumbled, though she never stopped smiling.
“Stand right here,” I ordered as I felt more liquid running down my legs.
“Why?” Bossy asked, her smile jubilant.
“Because my water broke, and I don’t want to look like I peed my pants in all these team pictures.”
Bossy’s eyes went wide and she looked down.
Her mouth opened and closed.
“Get in,” I said through clenched teeth. “Hurry, too. I think we need to get to the hospital.”
My contractions were one on top of the other by the time we finally broke apart.
“We’re going to have to call an ambulance,” I murmured.
“Call an ambulance?” Weaver asked, surprised. “For what?”
Bossy pointed to my pants.
Weaver’s eyes traveled down my body and froze.
“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, tell me you did not ignore that for half the game.”
“Not half,” I admitted. “Maybe just eighteen minutes.”
He groaned and caught my hand. “Come on.”
I would have.
