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I’ve experienced bad L.A. traffic on a daily basis since arriving here. This is a whole new category of fucked up. It takes forever for our car to get to the point where the door is opened for us. Eric steps out first and then has to practically haul me out of the back of the limo. Limos were not designed with pregnant women in mind, let me tell you. Getting out in a wedding dress would be easier, not that I’d know from firsthand experience, obviously.

There are announcers calling out his name and there are cameras flashing all over the place. Fans are screaming at him and I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do besides cling to Eric’s hand and pray to God that I don’t fall off my shoe and break my neck.

Please let there be paramedics on sight in case I go into labor or fall down. Oh and please don’t let my water break on someone’s shoe. Amen.

Eric says something to me but I can’t hear him over all the shrieking women.

“What?” I look up at him with a confused smile on my face. Pam told me no matter what, just keep smiling because there’s always a camera aimed my way whether they’re trying to photograph me or not.

Pam obviously knows I’m here but she doesn’t know that if anyone asks if we’re back together that we plan on coming out with the truth. Of course we’ve been spotted around Los Angeles buying baby stuff, grocery shopping or having meals together but we’ve dodged questions about whether or not we’ve ‘rekindled our romance.’ It makes me laugh to think anyone even gives a shit, but they do, and there have been rumors and speculation.

Typical.

“I said some of them are shouting for you too,” he says louder.

Oh goodie. I keep smiling anyway and Eric reaches for my hand as we’re hustled along so we don’t hold up the flow and hog someone else’s spotlight.

It’s a good thing Eric knows what he’s doing because I am completely blanking on the premier. Pregnancy brain and all. I follow his lead, going where he goes and stepping back when photographers want to catch him by himself. I step forward and smile when they want pictures of me, too. I remember the name of the designer of the dress I’m wearing and that my jewelry came from Tiffany’s (I did that to make Pam happy) and my shoes are Dolce & Gabbana.

Mostly, though, people want to know if we’re a couple again.

Eric smiles at me when we’re asked that the first time and I gesture for him to go ahead and answer the question.

“We are,” he says while still smiling at me, then turns back to the reporter. “And we’re very happy.”

I keep quiet unless a question is directed at me since this isn’t about me at all. This is about Eric and I don’t want people to focus on me just because I’m pregnant, but I find out quickly that word travels fast and by the time we reach the E! stop on the pressline, they already know Eric and I are back together.

Lets see what gems I can come up with this time. I roll my eyes at myself internally, despite the fact that I do laugh about what I said the first time around.

“Eric, Sookie, it’s so good to see you two back together!” the reporter greets us enthusiastically.

“Thank you so much,” Eric smiles charmingly.

“It’s good to be here,” I say, trying not to sound too awkward. My hand is on my stomach, which is a big mistake because that’s exactly where the reporter starts. Who cares that Eric’s nominated for two awards when he’s got a pregnant girlfriend on his arm?

“How much longer do you have?” she asks me.

“A few more weeks.” That’s all I’m saying. I don’t need anyone camped out in front of the house waiting for me to leave for the hospital.

“Do you two know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“We don’t actually. We’ve tried to find out and the baby’s always turned the wrong way so we’re going to be surprised,” I tell her.

“What about names?”

“Names are still iffy since we don’t know what’s cooking, but I think we’re leaning toward something more classical. I have a rule about not naming the baby after food, a car, a gem stone or a profession.”

She laughs and says, “I couldn’t agree with you more.” She turns to Eric and asks, “And how are you doing tonight? Up for two awards!”

“I’m good,” he smiles. “Excited, very thankful for the recognition for the series and the other actors. We all worked so hard on it and wanted it to be our best work, and I think we were all very pleased with the outcome.”

All of a sudden my stomach tightens up with one of those fakey fake contractions that never fails to get my heart rate up a few notches and sends Damian into a flurry of activity. I try to subtly breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth while I wait for it to pass. So help me God if I go into labor I’m not naming my baby Emmy.

Thankfully Eric wraps up the interview, and we step down again.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Contraction,” I tell him.

I would lie but I’m a shitty liar and he’d see right through it. Besides, if he touches my belly he’ll know anyway since it always firms up when I have a contraction.

“The false alarm kind, or the I really need to be alarmed kind?”

“For now the false alarm kind. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay,” he says, and takes my hand. “We’re done with the interviews now anyway.”

“Good. Let’s go get seated. If someone was smart they put me on the aisle and they better not lock the doors because I have to pee every ten minutes.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” he smiles, and we head into the auditorium.

Eric and I are seated with the other actors, producers and people involved with the miniseries. His seat is on the aisle and I’m right next to him so he clears it for us to switch places. I’ll be able to use the bathroom during commercial breaks but that’s it. I’m on the verge of calling bullshit when another contraction starts.

Maybe I’ve got less than five weeks to go after all.

I grab Eric’s hand while he’s talking to the director of the miniseries and put it on my belly so he can feel it. It feels like there’s a rock there instead of my usual bump.

“Should we start keeping track of how far apart they are?” he asks.

“Can’t hurt,” I say between breaths. “I’m pretty sure it’s not the real thing but just in case.”

“Okay, just let me know when it happens,” he says.

“Not a problem.” I blow out a deep breath and inhale deeply again.

Other actors come up to the group we’re seated with and I get introduced to them. There are more questions about the baby and I end up getting into a good conversation with Sophie-Anne LeClerq, who has four kids, and she’s just a few years older than I am. She’s very friendly and polite, and offers me a few tips on dealing with the press after the baby’s born since she’s been through it three times (she has a set of twins).

“If they’re aggressive, don’t hesitate to be firm with them,” she says. “The nicer ones are usually willing to just get their shot and go, especially if you’ve always been polite. But most of all, never, ever compromise what you want. If you don’t want the baby to be seen, say no.”

“Good advice. I’d really rather not put the baby in the spotlight. It’s hard enough for me to deal with it so it’s got to be scary for little kids,” I tell her. “How do your kids deal with it?”

If I remember right her oldest is six and the youngest is only a few months old. She looks fantastic for having had four kids in less than seven years.

“Sadly, it’s normal for them. We try to get away from L.A. with them as much as possible so they know that it doesn’t always have to be like this.”

“I just don’t want my kid to be hidden under a blanket all the time, you know? That’s only going to last for so long anyway.”

“You make it last as long as you need it to. The shitty thing is that covering them with a blanket almost makes it worse because it’s a highly anticipated picture when they finally get one.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. It almost makes sense to just release a photo so we’re left alone.”

“That’s completely up to you. With our youngest, we did that. Release a picture with a statement that you’d appreciate privacy when you’re out with your child. They didn’t ask to have famous parents, you know?”

“I’m only famous by association, but yes. I’m sure we’ll be spending some time in Louisiana once I’m okay to travel.”

“That’s a good idea. I love getting away from here.”

“Even without kids I’d think you have to every once in a while. This place is always… on.”

“Exactly,” she says. “It’s exhausting.”

Ushers come around to tell us to take our seats, although I’m already plopped in mine, so Sophie-Anne has to excuse herself.

“It was really great meeting you,” I smile up at her.

“It was great meeting you too,” she smiles.

Sophie-Anne takes her director husband’s arm and they go off to find their seat.

“You doing okay?” Eric asks when he takes his seat next to me.

“Yeah, fine. I’m going to need to go to the bathroom when the first commercial break happens, though. Lets just hope the opening isn’t too funny.”

“It never is.”

I snicker and his fingers lace with mine. Eric leans over to kiss my cheek and a minute later, the show starts.

EPOV

Well, I don’t end up winning an award. It goes to another guy who deserved it more than me, so I’m okay with it. The whole cast wins for best ensemble though, so that was awesome. Sookie continues to have contractions through the whole ceremony, but they’re sporadic and vary in degrees of intensity. By the time everything is over, we decide to just head home.

The whole thing was one hell of an experience. On commercial breaks my co-stars and other actors kept coming over and hitting on Sookie. She was flattered and amused, but it made me unreasonably jealous.

“So you were getting a lot of attention tonight,” I say in the limo as I help Sookie change into her comfy clothes.

“I guess,” she says as she tugs down the tank top she brought with her.

“Every guy was hitting on you.”

“You’re high,” she laughs.

“No, you’re just hot.”

“And bloated.”

“And sexy.”

“And gassy.”

“And gorgeous.”

“And swollen.”

“And beautiful,” I smile. “I could do this all night.”

“Fine, you win. I’m too tired to argue with you,” she says and then yawns.

“Have the contractions stopped?” I ask.

“For now, yes. That last one was a monster.” Sookie sits back and tries to get comfortable.

“Do you want to call the doctor?”

“No, I don’t think I need to. If they were coming regularly I’d be more worried about it,” she says. “Mom said she had three false starts before she really went into labor the first time.”

“Jesus,” I mutter.

It would fucking suck to be a woman.

“Yeah, and by the time she really went into labor Dad only believed her because she waited to say something until after her water broke. By then he was thinking she was crying wolf,” Sookie says. “I promise not to wait until my water breaks.”

“We better already be in the hospital room when that happens,” I say.

I talked her into one of those suites in the hospital. It’s basically like having the baby in a really nice hotel that’s sterile and staffed by doctors.

“You mean my birthing suite,” she snickers. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into that.”

“I’m still impressed I was able to,” I smirk.

“At least you reined it in and went for the smaller one.”

“Did you see the TV in the bigger one?”

Sookie rolls her eyes and says, “Honey, I think I’m going to be too busy groaning in agony and cursing your name to pay attention to whatever you’re watching on Spike TV.”

“Not if you take the drugs.”

“No, no drugs,” she says. “Not unless they have to cut me open.”

“I still think you’re crazy for not taking the drugs,” I say. I know it’s a hundred percent up to her, but if it were me I’d go with the less painful option.

“That’s because I’m tougher than you.”

“There’s no question about that.”

Sookie pulls her foot up as much as she can and starts rubbing the bottom of it. “Pam is the sadist who talked me into those shoes, by the way. Remind me to send her a horrible thank you gift. Oh! Has she called you to find out why the fuck we didn’t tell her we’re a couple? I’m sure she shit when she heard that.”

“I have my phone on silent and haven’t even looked yet,” I say. “Do you want me to rub your feet for you?”

“If you want,” she shrugs. “I got it if you don’t feel like it.”

“Gimme your feet,” I say, and she shifts so her feet are in my lap. I pull my phone out and hand it to her before I start rubbing.

She fiddles with the screen and then grins. “Oh she knows. There are eight messages.”

“What do they say?” I ask.

“I don’t know, they’re voicemails,” she says.

“Well listen to them,” I laugh and work my thumbs into the arch of her foot.

Sookie groans loudly and leans back further against the seat. “Good God that feels good.”

“With the noises you make sometimes, I think you get off on this,” I grin.

“You know, this feels better than an orgasm would right about now,” she says and dials into my voicemail.

She puts the phone on speaker and then Pam’s voice fills the car. “Thanks for the warning, fuckers. Eric, I’m going to grill your balls tomorrow. Literally.”

“Wow,” Sookie says. “You know I wonder what the right side is to go with grilled balls.”

“Probably a gross vegetable like spinach.”

“That’s entirely possible,” Sookie laughs and plays the other seven messages. Six of them are from Pam and the last one is from my mother.

“I don’t want to hear that one,” I say before it starts.

Sookie deletes it for me and then sets my phone aside.

“You know you’re going to have to talk to her eventually,” she says.

“Eventually.”

“As long as you know that. The last thing you need is for them to show up on your doorstep unannounced.”

“She’s not welcome to stay in my home.”

“Wouldn’t stop her from showing up.”

“If it’s an inconvenient time, she’s not welcome in either,” I shrug.

“She’s your mother so it’s your decision.”

“That’s my decision.”

“Okay then.”

“We need to get your mom out here though,” I say.

“Yes we do, but there’s time for that. I really do think it’s going to be a few more weeks.”

“You mean you don’t want your mom around for a few extra weeks?”

“I want her around more for the birth and for afterward but she’s only got so much time she can take off from work, so I have to plan accordingly.”

“Then we’ll see what the doctor says in a couple days.”

“Yes we will. You know at one point it felt like she was doing somersaults,” Sookie says and rubs her belly. “Shit, I did it again.”

“You really think it’s going to be a girl, don’t you?” I ask with a smile.

“I really have no idea. That just came out,” she says.

“It’s okay,” I say. “It’ll be interesting to see which one of us is right.”

“Yeah it will.”

I continue to rub Sookie’s feet until we get back to the house, and we head inside. Sookie goes upstairs to shower, and I change before making us some dinner. It hits me after a moment that last year at this time I would have been out at the afterparties trying to get laid. It’s a strange thought, and I find that I like this better. Maybe I had my fill of living like that.

xXx

Two days later we’re at Sookie’s doctor’s appointment. She’s still been having random contractions, but she says they haven’t been horrible and they’re not close together. This time Sookie’s doctor does an internal exam to see where Sookie’s at there. Already we know her blood pressure is on the high end.

Dr. Vardamon’s head appears over the top of Sookie’s bump and says, “You’re dilated three centimetres and about sixty percent effaced.”

“What?” Sookie sounds alarmed. “No, no, it’s too early!”

Dr. Vardamon straightens up and throws away her gloves. She gets out a little machine with one of those wands so she can listen to the baby’s heartbeat.

“Does this mean I’m going into labor?” Sookie both looks and sounds scared.

“I think maybe those contractions were a little more significant than Braxton-Hicks contractions, but it’s not a big deal,” the doctor says. The words do little to calm Sookie down.

Even more troubling is that it takes a minute for Dr. Vardamon to find the heartbeat… worse than all of the other news so far is that it’s not as fast as we’re used to hearing.

“What does that mean?” I ask. I’m starting to get scared.

“I’m going to send you over to the hospital for monitoring,” Dr. Vardamon says and Sookie starts to cry. “Sookie, it’s okay. I know it’s scary but this is a precaution. It looks like your baby may be ready to come out ahead of schedule, so we’ll get you on a monitor and we’ll give you some I.V. medication to speed up lung maturity in case we need to deliver you.”

Sookie nods her understanding but she’s crying harder.

“Just try to stay calm. It will help prevent you from going into active labor,” the doctor tells her.

I squeeze her hand and say, “It’s going to be okay. The doctors will be with us every step of the way. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Sookie nods, still looking scared. Dr. Vardamon puts the little machine back in its place and says, “I’m going to call the hospital and let them know you’re on your way, okay? I’ll be in to check you in a few hours.”

Sookie sniffles and with my help, sits up.

“What if I do go into active labor?”

“We can give you medication to counteract it, but if your water breaks we’ll have no choice but to deliver the baby. Hopefully it’ll wait a few more weeks, but this one may be in a hurry. We’ll just wait and see what happens. If we do have to deliver you in the next few days a pediatrician will assess the baby’s lungs and we’ll go from there.”

“What happens if the lungs aren’t developed enough?” I ask.

“The pediatrician will prescribe drugs to help strengthen them and the baby may spend a few days in the N.I.C.U. until he or she gets the all clear from a neonatologist,” Dr. Vardamon says.

I nod, and focus on helping Sookie up. Things feel like they just got way too real.

“What are the chances I’m going to have the baby in the next few days?” Sookie asks.

“It’s hard to say. Obviously I’d like to keep you from delivering for at least another week, but I’m concerned about your blood pressure and the affect it’s having on the baby. Realistically, if we can’t get a handle on that I think it’s safe to say we’ll have the baby out by Friday,” she says.

“How long will I be in the hospital?”

“We’ll start with seventy-two hours and go from there.”

“Should I call your mom?” I ask Sookie.

“Yes,” she says immediately.

“If we can get everything under control I want to schedule you for induction on the Friday after this one for your safety and for the baby’s.”

Sookie nods and takes a deep breath. Dr. Vardamon leaves the room and Sookie gets dressed.

“I’ll call your mom as soon as we get over there,” I tell her.

“Okay,” she nods. She looks dazed.

“It’s going to be okay,” I say. “At least we know what’s going on.”

“Yeah,” she agrees quietly and finishes dressing. “What if they can’t get things under control and I have the baby tonight or tomorrow? I don’t want her to be sick.”

“I don’t either. We’ll just have to stay as calm as possible so that won’t happen.”

“Right,” she nods. “You’re right. Calm.”

Sookie wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I couldn’t do this alone,” she says.

“I couldn’t either,” I say as I hug her back.

She tilts her head up to kiss me and then pulls back to get her bag.

“Come on, let’s go calm our baby into staying put,” I smile.

“Yes please.”

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