“No,” Korie and I say in unison.

“Not unless I get admitted. Then we can let them know. I’m only thirty-seven weeks. They might very well send my ass home.”

“Fine,” she begrudgingly agrees, rifling through our entryway closet for a few caps and sunglasses while Korie heads back to Nick and Raven’s on the golf cart to pick up the station wagon.

My contractions, or what I imagine by this point are contractions, come steadily at every four to five minutes throughout the forty-minute drive to the hospital.

As instructed on the phone, we meet Dr. Ruby in the emergency room, where she’s waiting with a wheelchair to escort us to a room.

“Yep,” the doctor announces when I ball up in pain in the elevator. “It’s a good thing you called… You’re definitely contracting.”

It’s a relief to have my suspicions confirmed. Everyone always tells you you’ll just know when you go into labor, but for me that couldn’t be farther from the truth, because I was certain those little Braxton Hicks were the real deal. Once you’ve embarrassed yourself by going into the hospital and being sent home, it makes you very reluctant to do it again.

I have a second one just as we’re entering the room, at which point the doctor pulls out a gown and sheet and orders me to undress. “We’re going to put you on the monitors and time them for an hour. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check your cervix.”

I can feel my pulse everywhere, pounding like the music in a suspense movie.

“Can we tell the guys no—”

“No!” That very firm order comes from the boss herself, Korie. “Not until she gets admitted.”

Raven’s eyes roll. “Fine.”

“You should probably get changed and in that bed before the next one hits.” The little blonde snaps her fingers at me and points to the gown. “Everything off.”

I make haste, stripping down. First my top, then my bra…

Korie sighs. “I miss my pregnant titties.”

“Dayum!” Raven murmurs reverently, openly gawking. “Now those might be worth getting knocked up for.”

I’m laughing so hard I can barely keep myself upright as I roll my leggings down my belly and peel them off. For modesty’s sake, I decide to slip the gown on before removing my underwear.

“Hold up, slow down, li’l momma.” Raven juts her chin in the air. “Lift that gown.”

“What?” I lift and look down, but of course I can’t see past my belly to know what she’s looking at.

“Is that Lyle’s face on your knickers?”

“Oh shit,” I groan, remembering the novelty panties I was going to surprise him with tonight. It’s a thong, and just below his face are the words “makes me wet.”