Jake kissed Dorothy goodbye at 6:30 Friday morning, his duffel bag already in the car.
“I still feel bad about the timing,” he said, his hand on her belly. “You’re so close to your due date. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. The baby’s not due until next Friday. You’ll be back Tuesday night—plenty of time.” Dorothy managed a smile. “Besides, this is your last fishing trip before we become parents. You should go.”
“If anything happens—if you feel any contractions or anything weird—you call me immediately. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of the lake. I’ll come home.”
“I know. I will.” Dorothy kissed him. “Now go. Marcus is waiting.”
She watched him drive away, then went back inside and stared at her reflection in the hallway mirror. The padding made her look ready to pop. I
