“Why not?” I huff, and Angel barks in agreement. “See, she’s fine with it.”
“Jamie,” Aubrey warns, “she is a pet, not a service dog.”
“Look, I can just zip her up, and no one will ever know.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “No one will notice a hot, tattooed man with an out-of-place wiggling beer belly? Stay out here. I’ll only be a minute.”
Taking the cart from me, she walks inside, resuming her glare as I try to follow. She’s right, but I’m worried she might need help while in there alone.
Angel and I find a little bench and take a seat. Several women and a few kids spot Angel peeking out my hoodie and ask to pet her. I don’t mind because she truly is the most adorable pup.
As a mom and her daughter who can’t be older than five are scratching behind Angel’s ear, a man runs out of the store shouting, “Is there a Jamie Wilson out here?”
I sit up straighter. “That’s me.”
“Your wife. She, um… there’s been an incident.”
I’m off the bench so quickly I almost knock over the little girl and her mom. “Is she okay? What’s wrong?”
“We’re calling an ambulance for her, but she asked me to tell you to?—”
I don’t care about the store policy and storm inside. Aubrey’s in a chair by the registers, the cart beside her holding sourdough, two cans of soup, her favorite caramelized onion cheddar, and Gruyère. I rush to her side, checking her over. Her leggings are damp, and I snap into action. The plan has always been for me to drive her to the hospital, but our car is a mile away and I have Angel.
I take out my phone and call Olivia. While it rings, Aubrey chuckles, “Alanis picked an interesting time to surprise us.”
“Hello?” Olivia answers.
“Aubrey’s water broke. We’re at the grocery store on J Street, and I have Angel with me. Can you send a car?”
“Of course. Isaac and I will come get you ourselves and take care of Angel for you.”
“You’re the best. Thank you.” We hang up and Aubrey grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Olivia and Isaac are on their way,” I assure her.
I help Aubrey through her breathing exercises, and hand over my credit card for the cashier to purchase the cheese, bread, and soup. It won’t be our dinner tonight, but Aubrey’s been craving it all morning and I want to be sure we have it on hand when we’re home from the hospital. The cashier refuses to take my money, insisting it’s on the house, and bags the groceries for us.
Olivia and Isaac arrive in ten minutes with Westley and a second car. I hand off Angel and the groceries to Olivia, as Isaac rushes Aubrey into one of the cars. Livy leaves with Westley, while Isaac drives us to the hospital.
When we arrive, Aubrey is in labor for a few hours, with her contractions coming on quicker and stronger. I text Alejandro and my mother to let them know the baby will be here soon, but the moment I push send, the nurse pages the doctor and announces, “You’re now almost ten centimeters. I’m going to need you to push.”
Aubrey grips my hand, and I brush the damp hair off her forehead. “You’re doing great. Our baby girl is almost here.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” she huffs. “You’re not about to push out a baby the size of a watermelon.”
“Pumpkin,” I correct, and while she tries to glower at me, she can’t hide her amusement.
Her doctor is in the room seconds later and slips on gloves. “All right, how are we looking?” She takes over for the nurse, and I can’t see what she’s doing with Aubrey’s gown tented over her knees.
For the next twenty minutes Aubrey pushes, and I feel helpless, wishing I could do anything more than hold her hand. On the last push, our little girl is here, her sweet cries bouncing off the walls. Aubrey’s breathing evens out and I can’t help kissing her, then praise, “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”
The team cleans up our little girl, wrapping her in a little blanket. They whisper amongst themselves, then they offer her to me first as they help Aubrey sit up a little. Our daughter is perfect, but as I take her in, I freeze. My eyes dart between Alanis and Aubrey, My wife has green eyes and red hair. Granted she colors it, but her natural color is reddish-brown. Her donor had blue eyes and blond hair. Alanis? She has beautiful chocolate brown eyes and hair.
Aubrey’s brows pinch. “What’s wrong?” I sit beside her, and she reaches for Alanis. “Oh, she’s perfect,” she coos.
“Bree… she’s a brunette.”
“Isn’t her hair beautiful?”
It isn’t clicking for her, and her doctor chimes in, gently telling Aubrey, “There is a chance your ovulation window was longer than we originally calculated. You mentioned at one of your appointments that you had unprotected sex after that window, so I would suggest you take a paternity test.”
