Harper stared at the ceiling while Sean slept peacefully beside her. She ran her hand across her stomach, but felt nothing save for the shallow echo of her own heartbeat. Her back ached. The bed was nearly brand new. It had to be one of the first of many pains to come.

She slid out of bed quietly and pulled a stretchy pair of pajama bottoms on. Are these tighter than they used to be? she wondered. A trick she’d learned in group was to look at numbers that weren’t on the scale when she began to wonder if her body dysmorphia disorder was acting up. Vanity sizing or not, there was no way a so-called “fat person” could wear a size two or an extra small. The pajamas might be stretchy, but they were still a size zero.

Harper tiptoed into the living room and eased the door shut behind her. As soon as she sat down on the couch and opened her laptop, the pain that gnawed into her back turned into a full-blown ache. It was worse than the period cramps that haunted her in middle school—and those were bad enough that after a few months of taking days off school, she was given prescription painkillers. At fifteen, her mother had taken her in for a Mirena IUD to stop the periods and pain altogether. It hurt so badly going in that, at twenty when it was time to replace it, she’d gone back to the pill. Fortunately, by then the worst of the menstrual pains seemed to be behind her.

She sucked in her breath with a hiss as the pain seemed to snake from her back to her stomach. Harper looked toward the closed bedroom door, but she didn’t want to wake Sean. She was still in her first trimester and wasn’t even showing. How weak would she look if she woke him up to complain about pregnancy pains this early on?

Instead, she picked up her phone and made her way to the balcony, though she had to pause every few steps to hold her throbbing stomach. She called P, but when he answered she could barely hear him. The drum of house music blasted through the phone.

“Where are you?” he yelled in his semidrunk voice. “You should be here, this place is fire.”

“I think something’s wrong,” she said.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“Go somewhere quiet!”

“Slow your roll, ho, I’m going.” Suddenly, the music came to a halt and she heard a door slam on the other end. “Now, what?”

“P, I think something’s really wrong.”

“What happened? What do you mean?”

“My back, and now my stomach. It hurts really bad. I thought it was just cramps, but it won’t stop.”

“It’s one in the morning. Where’s Sean?”

“Here. Asleep.”

“And you didn’t wake him up?” There was no trace of revelry left in P’s voice.

“I didn’t want to seem like a pussy,” she admitted. “Like, I’m barely pregnant and I wake him up in the middle of the night because my stomach hurts?”

“If it hurts, it hurts,” he said. “I got you. You want me to come right now?”

Harper looked into the distance. Part of the Hollywood sign was visible and lit turquoise pools spotted the dark landscape.

“Harper?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I do.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “I’m coming now. I’m in the valley, though, so—”

“What are you doing in the valley?”

“It’s a Tuesday night. If you want to find the good parties, you have to be willing to travel to different zip codes.”

A fresh bolt of pain shot through her. “Just hurry,” she said.

“I’m getting in the car now. But seriously? You need to wake Sean up and tell him. He’ll find out once I get there anyway.”

“No,” she said. “I’ll … I’ll leave him a note. He sleeps like the dead anyway.”

“Leave him a note? Hold on, what are we doing?”

She gave a short cry. The pain came in waves, and at the peaks it was blinding. “I think I need to go to the ER.”

“I’m coming.”

Harper made her way back inside and dug through the foyer table for a pad of paper and pen. S, don’t freak out. P took me to the hospital. It’s probably nothing, but will let you know when I know anything. Love, H. Don’t freak out. Yeah, that’s the perfect way to start a note. He’ll never read it, she thought. He hadn’t set the alarm, and chances were he wouldn’t even wake up for another nine hours. She’d be back and in bed with him by then.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and made a face. Her hair was a mess and the cracked graphic tank top clashed with her pajama pants. But the idea of changing clothes was too much. Besides, who looks good in the ER in the middle of the night?

Harper slid on her gym shoes and grabbed her purse just as P texted her. Downstairs.

“What are you wearing?” she asked as he jumped out of the Explorer and helped her into the passenger seat.

“I like to call it club leather meets wayward dominatrix with a heart of gold. Nailed it?” he asked.

She eyed him in his studded leather chaps with the two-foot fringe and snug leather vest. “The leather pageboy hat really ties it all together,” she said.

“Oh, good! I thought that might be too much,” he said as they pulled away from the building. “So, tell me more. What’s wrong, exactly?”

“It’s just really intense pain. Mostly in my abdomen now. It comes in spurts, though.”

“Maybe it’s gas,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“What! Pregnant women are gassy. At least my sister was. So, what’s the story when we get there? Am I supposed to be your black, fabulous sugar daddy turned baby daddy or what?”

“Um, if they ask, which I don’t think they will, let’s just go with the truth.”

“That I’m your black, fabulous bestie?”

“Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

Harper was glad to let P tell her about his night at the warehouse party. It distracted her briefly from the pain—and the idea that there was something wrong with the baby. The way the pain came, it felt how some women described labor. But babies didn’t come this early, did they? She didn’t know.

P pulled up to the entrance to the ER and raced around to get her door. “You can’t park here!” she said.

“Shut up. I’m walking you in, then I’ll go move it.”

“P?” she asked, and stopped. “What if … what if something’s wrong with the baby?” Tears trembled in her eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong with the baby.”

“You don’t know,” she said, and the tears started to pour.

“Come on,” he said and began to lead her into the hospital. It was only then that she noticed he wore nothing beneath his assless chaps.

“Can I … help you?” the receptionist asked. Even through Harper’s tears, she could tell the woman did a commendable job of not reacting to P’s appearance.

“My friend is pregnant. It’s her first trimester. She’s in a lot of pain, in her stomach.”

She was happy to let P take the lead as she tried to stuff the tears down her throat. The nurse on duty leaned forward and looked at her. “What’s the pain on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain you’ve ever known.”

“I don’t—Jesus,” Harper said as a fresh wave came over her. She spun away from P and vomited into the small trash bin. It was mostly liquid, but as she opened her eyes she realized there was no liner in the trash and it was mesh.

“I’ll take her from here,” the nurse said. She gestured for two other nurses in scrubs, and was eased into a wheelchair.

“I’ll be right here!” P called.

It was like her dream, with the fluorescent lights overhead. Only this time, she was in a wheelchair and not a gurney. “It’s okay if I can’t have anesthesia,” she said. She was partially aware that she wasn’t making sense.

“Let’s have the doctor take a look at you before we talk about next steps,” one of the nurses said gently.

She was wheeled into a beige, boring, but sterile room. Unlike the dream, there were no rusty hedge trimmers on the counter. Just boxes of gloves and glass jars with tongue depressors and cotton balls.

“Harper? I’m Dr. Fredette.” The doctor looked too young to work in a hospital, and she’d appeared too quickly. Where was the long wait?

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked. The room was too bright, too clean.

“That’s what we’re going to find out. Don’t you worry, we’re going to take good care of you. Are you dizzy? Can you stand?”

“Yeah, no, I’m not dizzy. I can stand.”

“Can you put this gown on for me? Open in the back. I’ll just step outside for a minute, okay?”

“Okay.” When the doctor closed the door, Harper stood and stripped off the tank top and pajamas. It was cold in the exam room and the thin gown didn’t provide any warmth. Goosebumps popped up on her flesh and the sound of the paper that crinkled beneath her as she sat on the exam table was too loud.

Harper dug through her purse for her phone. It was dead. Fuck. I must have not plugged it in all the way.

She tried not to cry as she waited for the doctor to return. I should have told Sean, she thought. Now he’ll wake up to that note, I’ll be gone, and he won’t have any idea what happened. I didn’t even tell him which hospital.

Finally, the knock came. “Alright, let’s take a look and see what we can find out,” the doctor said.