Kevin stood frozen in the middle of the bedroom, one leg in his jeans, as the doorbell echoed through the house at two in the morning. “Who is that?” he demanded, but I think he already knew. I picked up my hospital bag, the one with his name crossed out under “support person,” and walked past him toward the stairs, breathing through a contraction as I went. “It’s my mom,” I said. “And Paula’s driving. They’ve been on call since Tuesday.”

He followed me down the hallway, his voice climbing from disbelief to something closer to panic. “Your mom? You’re having our baby and you called your mother instead of me?” I stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back at him. “I called the people who show up, Kevin. You had three weeks to help me build a crib and you couldn’t find one evening. You told me two days ago that I obviously don’t need you for anything.” Another contraction rolled through me and I gripped the railing. “So I believed you.” His face went pale as the doorbell rang a second time, and downstairs I could hear my mother’s key already turning in the lock.