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“Wait.” Claire holds up a hand. “My son is attending prenatal sessions with you?”

“Oh, he doesn’t just attend. He arranges them. He takes notes and everything.” Luna swoons.

“Wow,” Hollie gasps.

My attention focuses back on the ice. Home games against Colorado were once full of angst and banter, but since Jon retired, his former team has progressively lost their grudge against the Scorpions.

With the score three-zero, I watch as my husband never takes his eyes off the action, even though he’s had almost nothing to do the entire time.

He won’t let me out of his sight. He's constantly checking on me. I swear if he could take his cell phone onto the ice and text me for thirty-second updates, he would.

Hollie leans in to break me from my drooling session. “If he wasn’t my brother, I would be swooning with you. He’s a mighty fine husband, future dad, and everything you deserve.”

I quickly reach over and snatch another piece of Luna’s popcorn to distract my mind from the tears threatening to pool in the corners of my eyes.

“He absolutely is,” I reply on an exhale, my attention fixed back on number eighty-eight.

“Has he told you the name he’s chosen yet?” she asks.

Shaking my head, I twist my lips to the side. “Nope, that’s the only secret we have from each other—the names we’ve picked out.”

My eyes return to the ice just as Jessie Callaghan sinks the puck, making it four-zero, and Luna jumps up, punching the air.

What it is to be carrying just one baby.

“Babe, you’ve spilled your drink all down me,” I groan.

Her head whips over. “But I’m not h-holdi?—”

“Oh. Shit.” Felicity announces as I slowly take in that I’m sitting in a puddle of my own amniotic fluid.

Time moves slowly as I watch the liquid soak through my leggings. “I think my waters just broke.”

“Are you feeling any contractions?” Claire asks, slightly panicked.

“Nope. Just really, really wet.”

“I think we need to take you to the hospital. They need to check you over because at this point, labor could start at any moment,” Felicity adds.

I wince and ask the question I’ve been putting off for some time. “How bad is childbirth exactly?”

“I’m not going to lie to you, babe. Horrific,” my best friend answers.

I look to Claire for some form of reassurance. She shrugs and nods at Felicity in agreement.

“You could’ve just lied and told me it’s uncomfortable like the doctors do.”

“It’s a mild feeling of discomfort followed by a sharp scratch,” Felicity corrects.

I huff. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“There’s still a good chunk of the period left.” Luna points to the countdown clock, which indicates that just over fifteenminutes of the second period remains. “He will lose it if he’s not told that she’s going to the hospital.”

I wave a hand in front of me. “I’m not about to have the babies right now. Let him know after the game.”

Felicity raises an unsure brow. “If your husband isn’t told in the next ten seconds, he will lose his shit, and I’m not being the one to witness his wrath.”

“Leave him to the game,” I repeat, coming to a stand, and I wince at the way my hips scream at me. I look down at myself. “He’ll be too busy worrying about my wrath over the state he’s got me into to care.”