The electrodes on my abdomen pulse against my skin and several currents zing through my body. I let out a few garbled sounds as I push through the discomfort. “This isn’t pleasant. Forgive me, but if it goes any higher than this, I’m going to need to curse.”

“Who gives a fuck,” Natalia says. “After this, you’re in the family.”

“What do you need me to do?” Solange asks. “Anything?”

“Keep your eyes on the road,” Natalia says. “Encouraging words are good. Shut up when I ask you to shut up. No music.”

Solange nods. “Fair enough.” She and I exchange a look through the rearview. You okay? she mouths. I give her a thumbs-up in response.

The next contraction is worse, though. Natalia shouts from the pain, and I jam my feet against the floorboards when she turns up the dial. “Goddamn . . . Almighty . . . fuck . . . That’s it, Natalia, breathe.”

“Look at you two,” Solange says up front. “You’re both amazing. Doing great.”

Is it bad that I want to stuff a sock in her mouth? Yeah, I suppose that’s bad. Why the hell did I insist on coming with her to Natalia’s? I could be at home getting ready for bed. But noooo, I just had to spend a little more time with Solange. Well, who’s the sucker now?

“Dean,” Natalia says a few minutes later. “Just a warning: Another’s coming, and they’re getting more intense.”

I wipe my brow with the back of my hand. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll be right there with you.”

“Four minutes apart,” Solange adds.

Suddenly Natalia leans forward and howls. Seriously. As though she’s lost the rest of her pack and calling out to them is the only way to guarantee a reunion. “Oh God, oh God, oh God. Jesus Cristo! Shiiiiiiiiiiit.”

The bad news is that she’s in pain.

The good news is that she forgot to hit the dial on the device.

“Natalia,” Solange says, her voice cutting through the panting and grunting in the car. “Sweetie, you forgot to hit the dial.”

Where’s a fucking spare sock when you need one?

“Oh!” Natalia says, looking as if activating the device has given her a new lease on life. “Here you go, Dean.”

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ. What. The. Fuck?” This time the pain is so intense I unfasten my seatbelt and go horizontal, aligning the length of my body with the backseat and pressing the soles of my shoes against the window. My back spasms. “Make. It. Stop. Make. It. Stop.” Literal tears stream down my face. I grab on to my hair and yank on it, hoping to transfer some of the discomfort elsewhere, but all that I manage to do is make myself feel like I’m on fire from head to toe. I curl up into a ball and mewl. Any minute now, I’m going to tap out.