Page 95 of The Omega's Fake Mate

I read somewhere on the internet that spicy foods and chocolate could act as laxatives and start contractions, but all I got from that was heartburn. One star, would not recommend. It wasn't as bad as the castor oil I tried after that, though.Thatcertainly got things moving, but not in my uterus. Suffice it to say I spent a long time on the toilet.

Trying sex wasn't so bad. It didn't help, but at least it didn't hurt either. Well, at least it didn't hurt me. It kind of hurt Zander when I clawed at him in frustration. After that, my mate and I were out of ideas, and frankly, kinda sick of trying.

“It'll happen eventually,” Zander said, running one finger through my hair.

“But when?” I whined. The anticipation was theworst.I was almost ready to drive up to the hospital and demand an impromptu C-section just to get this over with. “I wish it would just start.”

I ended up eating those words when labordideventually start. My water broke Monday, the second week of September at 1 p.m. sharp, spilling over the rug in our living room and making Betty bark in disgusted surprise (honestly, she was the cleanest of us all). From that point forward, everything happened much too quickly. As much as I'd moaned about wanting to go into labor, I hated it from the moment it actually happened.

Contractions werepainful.

I mean, I'd known that, butholy shit.

Squeezing a baby out of your belly was really, really hard!

Made even harder when your mate ran around the apartment like a headless chicken the moment you told him, as if he hadn't hadmonthsto prepare for this moment. I didn't know why he was freaking out. Over the last weeks, he'd read every book on childbirth ever written—or at least, that's what the stack in our bedroom looked like to me.

“We need to get to the hospital!” he exclaimed.

“You think?” I snapped, clutching my humongous belly.

“Right. I'll get your bag and the car keys.” He picked something up from the dresser.

“Zander.”

“What?”

“That's not the keys. That's Betty's leash.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that.” He put it down again. Next to me, Betty looked clearly disappointed but not surprised. I took a moment to scratch her behind the ears while Zander got my bag.

“You think Zander's going to be all right on the road?” I asked the dog. “Maybe we should call a cab.” Although I did not want to give birth in a cab like a sitcom character. Oh God, what if the baby came before we got to the hospital?

“I'll be fine,” Zander insisted, coming back with the bag. “We'll be fine.”

I nodded, trying to breathe through a contraction. “I trust you.”

Zander took my hand and squeezed. “I promise I'll get you to the hospital okay.”

And he kept that promise. We got to the hospital a full three hours before our baby was born. Honestly, by hour two, I kind of found myself wishing I'd already given birth on the car ride over. “I want this to stop,” I whined at my mate while we were waiting for me to be dilated enough to start pushing. They’d given me drugs to dull the pain, but they seemed to be taking forever to kick in.

“It’ll be over soon,” Zander promised me, “and then we’ll have a beautiful baby boy.”

“How soon is soon?”

“Very soon.” Zander stroked my hair as I breathed through another contraction. Those birthing classes Kade had made me go to were total bullshit. Who could focus on breathing while they were going through labor pains? I should demand my money back. Kade’s money. Whatever.

Oh God, make it stop.

“I’m never letting you touch me again,” I told Zander as the pain ebbed. “What if it’s twins next time? Could you imagine giving birth twice in a day? Oh God, I have to call my mother and apologize.”

“You can call her later,” Zander promised, and then the nurse came in to check on me again.

“All right,” she declared after a moment. “I think we’re ready to get this show on the road.”

I was so relieved to hear that, I could have cried. I was crying for real a few minutes later anyway, when the doctor was in and I was told to push harder, even though I already felt like my insides were popping out of me.

“Never ever doing this again,” I huffed.