The Ex-Husband of Alice Langley

37

PARIS SWIFT-KELCE
Lauren practically forced me to go on maternity leave last week. She was relentless, constantly bringing it up and worrying about every little thing, until I finally caved. I threw my hands up and agreed, telling her, "Fine, I'll do it, but only if you start your maternity leave too." I half-expected her to back off, but she didn't hesitate.

Because she's my girlfriend, and we work in the same lab, my workplace actually allowed it. They didn't have to—there's no official policy that covers partners like that—but they were nice enough to grant her the time off too. Honestly, I think it's less about kindness and more about us being valuable to the company. We're good enough at our jobs and bring in so much funding with our research that they probably figure they'll do whatever it takes to keep us happy.

"What can I do for you? How can I make you feel better?" Lauren asks, perching on the arm of the couch as I stretch out, trying to get comfortable.

I groan, pressing a hand to my belly. "I'm 41 weeks pregnant, Lauren. Unless you can magically make me go into labor and get this baby out of me, there's not much you can do."

"Chai tea and a croissant?" she offers, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips.

I sigh but can't help the small grin. "I mean... I won't be upset."

She laughs softly. "I'll be right back." She disappears into the kitchen, and a few minutes later, she returns, handing me a warm croissant and a cup of chai tea. The comforting scent instantly relaxes me.

"Thank you," I say, taking the goodies from her, feeling a small flicker of gratitude amid the discomfort.

"How's the little one today?" she asks, her hand gently resting on the curve of my belly.

I roll my eyes playfully. "She's making me pee even more often, but at least I can breathe easier."

"That just means she's dropped," Lauren says, her voice light and reassuring. "She'll be here any second, honey. You've lost your mucus plug, and you're getting Braxton Hicks. It's just a matter of time."

Out of nowhere, tears well up in my eyes, and before I know it, I'm sobbing as I take another bite of my croissant.

"What's wrong?" Lauren's voice is soft, concerned, as she leans closer, her hand rubbing my arm gently.

"This croissant is so good, but it makes me think of my mom, and now I want my mom!" I blurt out between sobs, feeling utterly ridiculous but unable to stop. Damn mood swings. My shoulders shake as I cry, croissant crumbs falling onto my lap.

Lauren smiles, trying to soothe me. "How about we invite her over, and she brings some Pop-Tarts?"

I sniffle, nodding, my mouth full as I try to mumble, "Okay." The word comes out muffled, almost inaudible, through a mouthful of pastry.

My mom shows up about half an hour later, carrying a grocery bag full of ingredients. She sets it down on the counter, and the moment she sees me on the couch, she walks over, concern written all over her face.

"Oh honey, you look miserable," she says, frowning as she takes in my puffy eyes and the uncomfortable way I'm sprawled out.

"That's because I am." I sigh, feeling the weight of my body pressing into the cushions.

She tilts her head, sympathy in her eyes. "Would you like me to get your pregnancy pillow? Maybe it'll help a little, relieve some of the pressure?"

I nod, feeling too exhausted to argue. "Okay."

She grabs the pillow from the corner and helps me adjust it under my belly and between my legs. It takes me a minute to settle into a comfortable position, but when I finally do, I feel a bit of relief.