I took another bite of my bagel, not quite ready to commit. Going out required real clothes, and my paternity outfits were barely fitting at this point. And even if they looked amazing on me, I no longer had the energy I’d had at three in the morning.
"Can we go to the farmer's market?" It was my new favorite place. Hardly a date type atmosphere, but now that I said it, there was no place I’d rather be.
“Absolutely.”
The local indoor farmers’ market was more of a small-business vendor shop than a true farmers’ market. A couple of places had veggies or fruit, depending upon the season, and of course, there was honey and different products made with goat's milk. Things like that. But there were also crafts, jewelry, and wooden items. You could go every week and there would still be something new each time you went.
We had a great time walking through the market, hand in hand, checking out each of the stalls. It was a nice, quiet afternoon together.
Until he’d mentioned it earlier, I hadn’t thought about the fact that our time with just the two of us was coming to an end, and I decided to cherish each of these moments—from grabbing some hooded baby towels from a grandma-type who made them by hand, to buying the largest cinnamon rolls I’d ever seen, to complimenting a teen on their fabulous jewelry—all of it became treasured memories.
I was looking forward to our new life as a family of three, but there was also something special about us, like this, now.
When we got home, I looked at the kitchen and wondered if there was going to be another morning like this one. Perhapsit would be focused on the living room, the bathroom, or the bedroom instead. If there was, next time I’d wake up my mate and let him help. Because we were in this together, and I couldn’t imagine anyone I’d rather be walking beside than Lincoln.
23
LINCOLN
I was having an amazing dream, but my panther was badgering me.
Wake up.
Don’t want to.
We’d finished the nursery yesterday, and I was tired but pleased it was finally done and ready for our little one.
I don’t understand what’s happening, but Bronson needs you.
My eyes snapped open, and I sat up and turned on the lamp. The other side of the bed was empty. I shot out of bed, blinking at the bright light in the living room. My mate was leaning on the back of the sofa, panting.
“Bronson!” I was at his side and holding him as his ragged breathing calmed, and I helped him straighten. “Is this it? Is the baby coming?”
We’d attended the classes and watched the videos. We’d read books and blogs and been on pregnancy forums. I knew we’d done as much preparation as possible, but I didn’t feel ready.Maybe next week I would, and I hoped whatever my mate was experiencing was false labor.
“Yes.”
Yes! I thought we’d go through a period of “Is this it?” “No, it’s nothing,” or “Let’s wait and see.” But that was a full-throated, “Yes.”
Shit, I should have paid more attention in class. Why didn’t I take more notes? Was it too late to scribble down pointers from a video?
“It’s the third one in the last hour.”
What? I almost shouted, “Why didn’t you wake me?” But I choked off my reply. Bronson needed me, not some asshat version of me.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” He rested his head on my chest.
“Next time wake me.”
He snorted and looked up at me. “You mean with our next baby.”
“We’re in this together.” I kissed the top of his head, but he grimaced and grunted.
“Another one.”
His belly was resting against me, and it tightened. Gods, that must be painful, and it was probably time to go to the hospital, as the contractions were so close together.
When the cramping eased off, I picked up the hospital bag, phone, and keys.
