Surprisingly, Noah’s respected my wishes and hasn’t pushed to get into it. And I’m not sure how I feel about that. Is he giving up on us? Was I right to assume he’s ashamed of me? Of our baby?
Ugh! I’m a mess!
I miss him, though.So much. But I can’t be with someone that doesn’t respect me. And Iwon’tbe his dirty little secret.
There’s a knock on the jamb of my open door and I glance up from my computer to find Jill leaning in the entrance.
“Got a minute?” she asks.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“Dante’s throwing a hissy fit about the raspberry turnovers. It seems there was some sort of mix up with the produce guy and we’re short on berries. I told him to just make some more apple ones instead but he’s bitching about them not being seasonal and …” she gestures towards the kitchen in frustration. “Can you just talk him down please? People eat apples outside of autumn.” She rolls her eyes.
“Sure.” I groan, pushing up from my chair, and a wave of pain washes over me starting in my lower back and moving around to my abdomen. I wince, rubbing at my belly, but ignore it, just as I’ve been ignoring all the other ‘twinges’ and ‘cramps’ this morning.
I’m not ready, I tell myself.
It can’t be time.
It’s too early.
“Are you okay?” Jill asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Fine,” I breathe as the pressure subsides.
I follow Jill back into the kitchen where I find Dante pacing in front of the wall of large ovens and berating someone, likely our produce guy, over the phone.
“No,” he shouts, shaking his head. “No. This is absolutely unacceptable, I willnot–”
I grab the phone from his hand and hold it up to my ear. “Jason?” I ask.
“Uh, yeah. Hi Lucy. Look,” he says, “It was an oversight. I’ve got a new guy in packaging and I think part of your order got mixed up with another …”
Dante is grumbling and I shoot him a look to shut up.
“It’s alright,” I reassure him. “These things happen. We’ll make do without.”
“Thank you for being so understanding. I can have the raspberries over to you tomorrow morning, and of course they’ll be comped,” he promises.
“That would be great, thanks Jason.”
“Thankyou,” he murmurs. I end the call just as another wave of pain hits and forces me to bow over, clutching at my belly and leaning on the nearby prep counter for support.
Shit.Yeah, that’s a for-real contraction.
I grunt and suck in a sharp breath. Unlike the mild Braxton hicks I was having last week, I know this time is the real deal. Baby Gardner is coming, and I don’t know what to do about it.
“Jesus,” Dante exclaims. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I think she might be in labor,” Jill says.
I just shake my head, unable to speak until the pain again subsides.
Forcing myself upright, I turn to make my way back to my office, calling over my shoulder in a voice that brooks no argument, “Apple turnovers!”
Jill scampers along behind me and then hovers in my doorway while I slowly lower myself into my chair.
“Are you in denial or something?” she asks, and I sigh.
