1 Eva

I’m going to kill him.

That’s the only thought running through my head as another contraction hits, sharp and fast, like someone’s wringing my insides out like a wet dishcloth. I grab the edge of the hospital bed and squeeze until my knuckles turn white. Greer, Chloe, and Posey are all hovering around me like a flock of well-dressed hens, clucking away with soothing words that absolutely do not soothe me in this moment.

"Where is he?" I grit through clenched teeth. Sweat is already dripping down my face, and I’m pretty sure I look like a flushed tomato, but honestly, who cares? I’m in labor, damn it.

"Don't worry, Eva," Posey says in her calm, yoga-teacher voice. "He’s probably on his way."

"Probably?" I huff, glaring at her between contractions. "Probably doesn’t help me right now, Posey. I need certainty!"

Chloe is pacing by the door, phone to her ear, muttering, "Come on, Benedict, pick up. Pick up!"

Greer stands by my side, fanning me with what I think is a baby magazine she found in the waiting room. "He’s probably just caught in traffic or something. Men. They always pick the worst times to disappear."

"Disappearing? Disappearing?! If he’s not here by the time this baby is out of me, I swear I’m going to—" Another contraction interrupts my threat, and I’m back to gripping the bed like it’s the only thing keeping me from flying off into space. Greer’s fanning isn’t helping. In fact, it’s making me hot. I’m about to snap the fan in two.

"Can you get him on speaker?" I demand through clenched teeth, glaring at Chloe, who’s still pacing like the detective she is solving a case.

"He’s not answering," Chloe says, shaking her head, worry etched on her perfect face.

"Oh, of course he’s not answering! He’s probably off doing something heroic, saving puppies or rescuing kittens from trees while I’m here—having—his—baby!" My voice rises with each word, and by the time I finish, I’m practically shouting.

"Remember your breathing techniques," Posey chimes in, mimicking deep, exaggerated breaths.

"Breathing techniques?" I bark, looking at her like she’s sprouted a second head. "I’ve done the breathing! The breathing is not working!"

Another contraction hits, and I let out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. Greer just smirks. "That's the spirit."

Chloe tries Benedict’s phone again. "Still nothing," she says with an apologetic shrug.

I groan, throwing my head back against the pillow. "He’s going to miss this. He’s going to miss the birth of his own child."

"He won’t," Greer says, trying to sound reassuring. "He’s been there for you through everything. He’s probably just... I don’t know... wrestling a bear on the way to the hospital."

"Great," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "Wrestling a bear. Perfect timing, Benedict."

Just then, another contraction tears through me, and I clutch the side of the bed with one hand and Greer’s arm with the other. "Oh my God, this baby is coming, and he’s still not here. He’s going to miss the whole damn thing, and I’ll never let him live it down. I’ll remind him every single day for the rest of our lives that he missed this."

Posey grabs a nearby cup of ice chips and offers them to me. I shoot her a look that could melt the ice before I begrudgingly take a handful.

"Let’s try texting him," Chloe suggests, her fingers flying over her phone. "Maybe he’ll get the message this time."

"Oh, sure," I huff between labored breaths. "Let’s send him a friendly reminder that I’m pushing a human being out of my body without him."

Greer pats my hand. "We’ll just put that in all caps. He’ll get the point."

I groan again, and this time it’s half from the contraction, half from sheer frustration. "If he shows up after this baby’s born, I swear to God, I’m naming it something ridiculous just to spite him."

Greer raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Like what?"

I squint, thinking through the fog of pain. "Like... I don’t know... ‘Benedict Jr., the Belated’!"

Chloe stifles a laugh. "That would really teach him."

I glare at her. "I’m serious."

Posey nods in mock solemnity. "I fully support this plan."

"Okay," Greer says, looking at her watch. "We’ve still got some time. Maybe he’ll pull a miracle and come flying through the door at the last second, all dramatic and apologetic."

"Or," I say, gritting my teeth through another contraction, "he can show up in time to watch me hold his baby and remind him that I did this all by myself."

Chloe sighs, pocketing her phone and giving me a sympathetic look. "He’ll be here, Eva. He has to be."

I want to believe her, but as another wave of pain hits, I grit my teeth and let out a long breath. "If he’s not... he better be prepared for the cold shoulder for the next fifty years."