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Warm fluid gushes between my legs.

Like, a lot of it. A comical amount.

I look down at the front of my black dress, right where the big white triangle says SIGNS POINT TO YES. I don’t know why I do it considering I haven’t been able to see my feet in months.

Then I look at Sumner who’s watching what I’m guessing is a pretty big puddle rapidly spreading across the porch beneath my sandals.

A tiny Batman standing at the bottom of the steps points a plastic Batarang at me. "That lady peed."

"I did not pee," I say indignantly.

His mother’s eyes go wide. She looks at my massive belly, then at the puddle, and the realization hits her instantly. A knowing, sympathetic smile spreads across her face as she grabs her kid's cape.

"She didn't pee, buddy, she's about to meet her baby," the mom tells him gently, already herding him backward toward the safety of the sidewalk. She shoots me a grin over her shoulder. "You've got this, mama! Good luck!"

"Happy Halloween!" I call after them automatically, because I have absolutely no idea what else to do.

Colston, who had just opened another Twix, looks down at the puddle. The blood completely drains from his face.

"Oh my god," Colston chokes out, dropping his candy. "I told you.” He gags. “The fluids.” He gags again. “Fu-udge everything. I can’t. The fluids are happening."

True to his word, he practically vaults backward over a pumpkin, covering his mouth with both hands as he makes a very loud, very dramatic gagging sound and scrambles toward the far edge of the porch.

I grab Sumner’s forearm, my nails digging into his skin. "Oh, fuck." Because yeah, there’s no denying this anymore. This baby has my full attention.

Sumner, though. He doesn't panic. He slides a steady, solid, very muscle-y arm around my waist to hold me up.

"My water broke," I whisper, the reality finally crashing into me. I'm having a baby. Like, tonight.

Then another contraction slams into me, and I fold forward with a strangled gasp and grab two handfuls of Sumner’s shirt.

Sumner gets one arm around my back and holds me up while I curl into him and basically give him all my weight.

Behind us, Colston mutters, “Holy shit. I can’t believe this is happening.”

Nobody answers him.

Sumner keeps heavy, steady pressure against my lower back, breathing with me until the contraction finally starts easing.

He looks over my shoulder. “Jenny.”

“What? I’m here. I’m ready.” Colston’s voice is shaking, and he seems very much not ready.

“The hospital bag is by the bedroom door. Goldie’s purse is on the kitchen island. My bag is beside hers. Grab all three and bring her SUV around.”

Colston just stares at him.

“Go,” Sumner barks.

Colston blinks rapidly. “Right. Fetching bags. Away from the fluids and the contracting.”

He takes off through the front door, leaving us where we are.

A group of teenagers dressed as various energy drinks starts up the walkway, but Sumner immediately holds a hand up like a traffic cop. He points down to the bowl of candy Colston abandoned on the porch table.

"Help yourselves. Take the whole thing," Sumner calls out over his shoulder to them, before turning his full attention back to me. "We're done for the night."

I straighten up slowly, leaning heavily against him, my fingers still white-knuckling his shirt.