My husband stepped out of the living room, where he had been watching TV with his parents. At thirty-eight weeks pregnant with twins, I had experienced Braxton Hicks contractions for weeks, but this was nothing like that. This was real labor, and every instinct told me something was terribly wrong.
Travis grabbed his car keys from the hook by the door. For a brief second, relief flooded me. After everything his family had put me through during this pregnancy, surely he would come through now. Surely he understood how serious this was. Family
“Let’s go,” he said, reaching for my arm.
We made it only three steps toward the garage before his mother’s voice sliced through the moment.
“Where are you trying to go?” Deborah demanded, stepping directly in front of us. Behind her, his younger sister Vanessa smirked, spinning her designer purse around her finger. “Come and take me and your sister to the mall instead. The sale at Nordstrom ends today, and I absolutely must have that handbag I showed you.”
I stared at her, stunned, as another contraction built. “Deborah, I’m in labor. The twins—”
“Oh, please.” She flicked her hand dismissively. “First-time mothers always exaggerate. My labor with Travis lasted sixteen hours. You’ve got plenty of time.”
Travis looked back and forth between his mother and me, his jaw tightening. My heart sank at the expression I recognized too well. He was going to give in. Mother-in-lawgifts
“Travis,” I whispered, gripping his sleeve. “Please. Something isn’t right.”
