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Thirty-nine weeks pregnant with Leo’s and my first child, and contractions had become a frequent occurrence in my life. According to my last doctor’s visit with my OB/GYN, I was one centimeter dilated and our baby could make his or her arrival any day now.
I silently offered up a prayer that today would not be that day.
Tomorrow, though, that would be perfect.
But today, well, it was a big fucking day for my husband, and I didn’t want to ruin it with an impromptu visit to the maternity ward.
Alma flashed me a side-eye and glanced down at my belly, but I forced a neutral smile to my lips to ease her curiosities.
It was just a few contractions. No big deal.
The university president spoke proudly into the mic. He talked about Leo’s graduate class. He congratulated them on their victories and their hard work, but I couldn’t quite focus on his words because my uterus apparently wanted all of my attention.
Another contraction gripped me tightly, and I pursed my lips into a tiny O and slowly breathed through the building pain.
Then the man at the mic proceeded to go into a long-winded, inspirational ramble about changing the world and shit, and I had two more contractions before he’d even paused to take a fucking breath.
But I was breathing. It was all I could manage to get through the uncomfortable fuckers.
Alma looked at me again, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed as she homed in on my belly. She reached out and placed her hand against my stomach, and instantly, she looked up at me with a glare.
“How long have you been having these?” she asked, and I waved her off.
“It’s not that bad.”
“How long, Gemma?”
Even in her old age, the old biddy was still sharp as a tack.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “A few hours or so.”
“A few hours?” she shouted, and everyone sitting around us, Leo’s closest family and friends, turned their gazes toward us.
“Shut up, Nonna,” I whisper-yelled. “I’m fine. It’s fine. I promise.”
She shook her head and pursed her lips again, but I averted my attention from her nosy ass and back toward the stage.
The graduate marshal had now taken the mic and had started to announce the graduates one by one as they took to the stage and accepted their diplomas.
He rolled through the alphabet only slightly quicker than my contractions rolled through my uterus, and by the time he reached the L’s, I was thanking everything under the sun.
Graduation ceremonies inside a hot as balls auditorium while thirty-nine weeks pregnant was hard enough, but add in contractions that had turned painful, frequent, and consistent, and it felt like the longest minutes of my life.
Focus, Gem, I mentally coached myself.
And please, sweetheart, wait just a little bit longer, I silently whispered to the baby.
My husband had worked so hard for this moment, and I didn’t want to do anything but celebrate this huge accomplishment with him.
I could focus on the contractions later.
But right now, I wanted to watch Leo get his diploma, and I didn’t want anything to get in the way of that moment.
I spotted him in the sea of caps and gowns, and when he stood from his seat and lined up beside the stage, my heart fluttered inside my chest.
It’s time, I thought to myself and smiled.
But that smile was quickly wiped away with a contraction, and it took everything in me not to grip an unknowing Cam Mitchell’s shoulder and groan.
Thankfully, I kept my cool, and a good thirty seconds later, the contraction faded away and I had a moment of reprieve.
“Leonard Landry,” the graduate marshal announced into the mic, and our little cheering section jumped to its feet.
“Leonard! Leonard! Leonard!” Cam, Sean, Quinn, and Teeny chanted together, their booming voices carrying over the noise of the crowd.
People in the auditorium turned in their seats to find the raucous commotion, but these guys gave zero fucks.
They cheered and clapped, and my heart swelled inside my chest as I watched my husband walk onto the stage.
Leo glanced up to his cheering section with a huge smile and waved toward us, and proud tears pricked my eyes.
“Hell yeah, Leonard!” Cam exclaimed once it had been made official with a shake of the dean’s hand, a clench of his diploma between his fingertips, and a slide of his tassel from the right side of his cap to the left.
Alma took a goddamn air horn out of her neon-pink purse and startled the entire crowd.
Quinn put his fingers to his mouth and wolf-whistled, while his wife Cat adjusted their one-year-old daughter Callie on her hip and offered up her congratulations through a big smile and a clap of her hand against her thigh.
With a smile on Sean’s lips and a GoPro in Six’s hands, the two of them hooted their excitement toward the stage while Teeny helped their adorable son Fallon onto his shoulders so the little guy could get a better camera view of the ceremony.
