by Max Monroe
“Welcome, everyone! I’m Amy. Congratulations on the news of your impending little ones!” The class claps for themselves, and instantly, I’m a little annoyed with them too.
I get the sentiment, but it’s a practice I’ve never been able to get behind, right along with clapping when a plane lands after an uneventful flight and applauding a movie theater screen as the ending credits roll.
What’s the point?
Though, I shouldn’t be surprised, considering the attendees are a raucous mix of reality TV personalities and winning contestants from any number of the five different singing competitions on television today. There’s no one here I’d consider A-list, but I imagine most of them find the idea of taking a class with other people beneath them.
“As I’m sure you all know, the miracle of birth is called that for a reason.” Amy smiles at the class. “It’s an amazing achievement by the female body and an impressive showing of the pain tolerance we all have built inside.”
Wow. Pain tolerance. That’s reassuring.
Harrison squeezes me with his thighs, surely feeling me tense up in front of him at the reminder that a human is going to rip my vagina apart in a few short months.
Oh joy.
“What that means—and the point of this class—is that you’re going to need some tools to get you through it, to make it the experience you want it to be. I can’t wait to partner with you as you find your own wants and needs and learn how to advocate for them. And truly importantly, how to have your coach advocate for you.”
The “coaches” all chuckle a little as Amy smiles.
“That’s right, folks. You all have important roles here, other than to be around when the baby makes their debut. You’re there to take care of your mom to the best of your ability, and to do it at her discretion. You are to be her voice when she is focusing on other things. You are to be her comfort when she’s struggling to find any. You are the reserve of energy she’s going to tap into when she can’t find any more on her own, and you’re going to need the tools to do the best job you can providing for her. That’s the point of this class. Not, as I’m sure many of you think, to learn how to breathe.”
The whole class laughs as she nods. “Yes, you will learn breathing techniques, but trust me, at the end of our time together, you should be armed with so much more. So, let’s get started.”
“Is it just me, or should she be giving the opening speech at the Olympic games?” Harrison whispers in my ear, and just like that, a smile cracks the hard edges of my fear and worry.
“I don’t know. She was inspiring, but also, like, weirdly terrifying. I’m not sure if she’d be giving athletes mental breakdowns or pumping them up.”
“You have to break it down to bring it back up, right?”
“No,” I disagree with a laugh. “I don’t think that’s actually true. We’d have to stab all the hot air balloons and sew them back together before they could take off if that were the case.”
“But think of how cool that would be.”
I laugh. “Cool until the loop stitch comes apart and your ass is free-falling into a bank of trees at the speed of sound and shit.”
“The speed of sound?” he asks with a laugh.
“I don’t know. It would hurt, okay?”
“All right, you win. No breaking down, just lifting up in the delivery room.”
“And a strictly above the hip standing position for you.”
“You don’t want me to watch?”
I choke on my saliva. “Um, no.”
“You don’t think I can handle it?”
“I don’t think I can handle it. Frankly, I’d prefer if no one had to watch. If I thought the doctor could do her job effectively without watching, I’d blindfold her.”
He chuckles. “Noted.”
“Everyone get into position, please,” Amy calls over our muted conversation. “Coaches behind ladies, using your own bodies as a support.” Amy glances at both Harrison and me and smiles. “Like this lovely duo. Already in business and ready to go.”
I blush a little as I realize that Harrison and I fell so naturally into an enormously intimate intertwinement of bodies before being asked to do so. The heat in my cheeks feels starkly obvious, so I busy myself looking around the room in the hope that my partner will do the same instead of noticing.
He doesn’t; at least, I don’t think he does. The backs of his fingers skating gently across the bright-red skin of my face suggest otherwise. But at least he doesn’t say anything about it outright.
“Knees up, coaches,” Amy directs. “Lean into your partner fully. Allow your chests to be her backrest, your legs to be the bolsters of her arms.”
Harrison adjusts behind me, being careful to follow her directions, and a warm gust of his breath tickles the shell of my ear.
God, that feels good.
All at once, a jarring jolt of memory racks my body, the sexy, toe-curling details of the last time we were this close sending a rolling shiver all the way down my spine.
“You okay?” he whispers, unintentionally—unwittingly, really—making it worse.
“Uh, um, yeah,” I stammer. “Peachy.”
He chuckles softly, the entirety of his chest vibrating behind me, and it does nothing for my current situation. Goose bumps roll up my arms, my mind starts to wander toward thoughts of Harrison’s naked penis, and even my preggo vagina joins the fest o’ horny and starts throbbing like she can simply get her rocks off in the middle of this freaking Lamaze class. It’s like this pregnancy has given her ADHD or something.
Jesus Christmas, Raquel. This really was a good freaking idea, huh? Not like your life is complicated enough at this point!
“Birth is an incredibly sacred experience,” Amy says, interrupting Harrison’s laughter and the sacred experience I was already having quite rudely. I know it’s not rational, but these crazy pregnancy hormones and Harrison’s proximity almost have me convinced telling her to hold on a second is a good idea. “You’re bringing a new life into your family, and the two of you will never forget experiencing the moment together as long as you’re prepared to handle it.”
That’s right, Raquel. You’re here because you are bringing a new life into the world. So, ignore how good he feels behind you, stop picturing how good he felt inside you, ignore your horny vagina, and focus on preparing for the birth of this baby.
I inhale a discreet, cleansing breath and mentally tell my beaver to take a chill pill. Listen here, you randy biotch. Now is not the time to be distracted. Now is the time to start stretching it the fuck out and doing your best impression of a yoga instructor so we both get out of this birth intact.
I’m literally giving my vag a come to Jesus talk in the middle of a Lamaze class. Pretty sure this is the epitome of hormonal insanity.
Thankfully, Harrison distracts me from my thoughts and my vagina’s newly diagnosed ADHD and squeezes the cocoon of his legs around me meaningfully. It feels good…right…and, just like the night we made the baby, it reaffirms that we’ll never go back from the day he or she makes their debut into the world.
And here we are, despite every messy thing we’ve been through, preparing for that moment together.
I do myself the courtesy of leaning in to the experience. Of turning off my mind and letting my back fall into the pillar of Harrison.
He supports my weight easily, much in the way I know he’ll support me and our baby for many years to come. The whole thing was a shitshow, but on some subconscious level, I knew I was choosing an incredible partner. One who will never let me down because he’s got something more important going on or his own needs to see to.
Harrison is selfless and caring on a level I’ve never experienced before.
God, how did I get so lucky?
For the next fifteen minutes, I relax my mind and my body and fully give myself over to Amy’s instructions and the feel of Harrison’s hands as they knead their way around my body. My shoulders, my hips, right in
the center of my back—his fingers dig in with just enough pressure to relieve the knots I’m pretty sure I’ve been carrying for close to twenty-five years.
“So, coaches…for the next week,” the bubbly instructor announces, “you’re going to immerse yourself in a crash course about what it’s like to be your pregnant partner.”
Harrison glances to me with a smirk while a titter runs through the rest of the room and pretty much all the guys look ready to bail.
Amy walks over to the closet at the back of the room, continuing to speak as she opens the door and starts handing sealed plastic packages to the class assistant.
“I have an eight-month belly for each of you—twenty-five pounds of extra weight, ready to be strapped to your front.” My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. “You’re going to have to wear this for an entire week, experiencing what the women in your lives will have to experience for months on end throughout this pregnancy.
“In addition to the stomach, I’ll also be asking you to make hourly trips to the bathroom, whether you have to go or not. Pregnancy is a miracle and a blessing, but it’s also a giant inconvenience you’ll never truly empathize with unless you experience it for yourself.”
The idea of Harrison—one of the sexiest, manliest guys I’ve ever met—walking around wearing a big, fake pregnant belly is ridiculous enough on its own. But when I realize what his work schedule looks like this week, it becomes downright impossible.
“You don’t have to do this,” I lean over and whisper into his ear. “You have an important week in New York. It’s no big deal if you don’t do it.”
Harrison rubs at his jaw and nods before jerking his head toward me and leaning in. “You know what? No. It is important. You didn’t plan on carrying your belly around to all of your events and shit, just like I didn’t plan on wearing it to New York, but it’s happening all the same. We’re in this together, and I’m going to make damn sure I know what you’re going through as best as I can.”
It’s speeches like that that make me want to fall in love with him.
Which is probably also why speeches like that scare the piss right out of my low-lying bladder.
“You have meetings,” I insist on another whisper. “Important meetings with people who—”
“Who should understand that my dedication to you and this baby is a great indication of the level of dedication I provide to my company and the ones we deal with.”
I sigh. Goddamn you, Harrison. Why you gotta be so sweet?
“Don’t stress over this, Rocky. It’ll be fine.” A playful smile slides across his handsome mouth. “My only regret is that I won’t be in town, here, with you, where you can crack jokes at the appropriate times.”
“That is disappointing,” I say with a laugh. “I’m very funny.”
Harrison’s smile stretches the entire width of his face. “You can text me when you think of stuff.”
I push my lips into a pout. “Ah, but without you here, I’ll be lacking the real motivation for material.”
“What about…” Unspoken words linger in the air for a few seconds before he shakes his head. “Never mind.”
“No. What? What were you going to ask?”
“I just thought…maybe you’d want to come with me.” He squeezes my knee. “But I know you’re busy here. You have a lot going on, and your entourage would be lost without you.” He laughs. “So, don’t even worry about it.”
“No, I…” I lick my lips and nod confidently. I’ve never been a wallflower. No reason to start being one now. “I want to. New York has a hell of a lot more anonymity than here. It sounds nice, actually.” I pull up short as something occurs to me. Maybe he changed his mind because he doesn’t want me to come. “Uh, if that’s okay with you, that is. You don’t need to feel like you have to—”
“Rocky, stop,” he orders with another squeeze of my knee. “I’m glad you’re coming. I can show you and the baby around all of my favorite spots. Introduce you to my crazy friends.”
“The baby can’t see from inside my stomach, Harrison.”
“No, but he can hear.”
“Pretty sure you mean she can hear,” I retort, adding to our ongoing chatter about the sex of the baby. He thinks we’re going to have a boy. I think there’s a little lady inside this big belly of mine. And, thankfully, the one thing we do agree on is that we’re going to wait until our baby’s first official birthday to find out. “How many times do we have to go over this? I mean—”
A throat clears in front of us, and both of us jerk our gazes up to the instructor. She’s smirking, standing over us and holding out Harrison’s fake pregnant belly. “Sorry to interrupt, folks. But I wonder if you might mind letting me be the one to talk for a while?”
I suck my lips into my mouth, and Harrison smirks—just a couple kids getting reprimanded by the principal. Amy smiles like she’s in on the secret, but I can almost guarantee she’s not.
I know it’s going to be like hell on earth explaining to Heidi that I’m going across the country without her, but I’m going to do it anyway. Plus, I’m pretty sure some time apart would do both of us some good these days. A little breathing room, so to speak.
Time in New York with just Harrison? Yep. Sounds like exactly what the doctor ordered.
Harrison
Thirty-four years old and I am the brand-new owner of a pair of double D breasts and an eight-month pregnancy. If only my dear old dad could see me now. No doubt, all-business Hall Hughes wouldn’t have been amused.
This is certainly the first time I’ve ever stepped inside a conference room with boobs.
For that matter, it’s the first time I’ve stepped inside a conference room in anything other than an impeccable three-piece suit with an expensive tie and cuff links worth more than some people spend on a car—and to really up the ante, it’s the first time I’m doing it since my big move to California.
Eyes turn to me with shock and skepticism, wide gazes shooting straight toward the giant pink elephant under my suit, and I’ve never felt more acutely connected to Tim Allen’s character in The Santa Clause.
It wasn’t his fault he was fattening up, and it’s not mine either. At least, not directly. But I can only imagine what my colleagues think has happened to the state of my mental stability.
“Uh…it’s really great to see you back in New York, Hughes, but mind telling us what the hell is going on?” Jared Hawkins asks, standing from his seat at the head of the table and leaning his weight into the palms of his hands on the crisp surface.
The other department heads look on with gaping mouths, but I smile.
I prepared myself for this moment and made the decision to go through with it intentionally.
Even Rocky tried to give me an out, and five years ago, I probably would have taken it and run. But now, instead, I choose to be proud of my role. Truthfully, I’m prepared to have a little fun with it.
“Well, sir,” I state and glance down at my foam breasts, “I guess it’s safe to say LA has changed me.”
Jared’s jaw makes a great escape toward the table, and deafening silence fills the room.
God, I’m so damn tempted to keep this bit going for a while—really channel what my buddies Thatch and Cap would do with this scenario—but figure it’s best if I come clean before someone gets hurt. God knows I haven’t fully adjusted to the extra twenty-five pounds of curvaceous weight that’s now strapped to my chest.
Seriously. It was a bitch trying to make my morning coffee, and it was an even bigger bitch to put on my socks.
“I’m kidding,” I say through a soft chuckle, and Jared tilts his head to the side, urging me to continue with some sort of rational explanation.
In the name of being professional, I oblige.
“Sorry for the distraction, sir, but I’ve been assigned by my Lamaze class instructor to wear this all week long so I can get a good feel for what my girlfriend…” I trail off as my eyes go wide. Holy shit, did you just say girlfrie
nd? What the hell, dude? Quickly, I recover, clear my throat, and get back to the explanation before my mind has the time to start reeling. “The mother of my child will be going through during her pregnancy for months on end. It’s important that I keep it up, even during working hours. Otherwise, I don’t think I’ll be doing my part to get a real sense of how she feels.”
I try my damnedest to push it out of my mind that I just called Rocky my girlfriend and focus on the task at hand—aka making everyone in the room forget about my new set of tits and knock out the agenda items on today’s list.
But the task at hand is a hell of a lot harder to achieve with everyone in the room staring at the way my new breasts peek over my protruding belly.
This conference room is the circus, and I am the clown.
To my surprise, Liliana, the head of human resources, smiles a little, seemingly impressed by my display. Several of the men in the room, however, wear their contrary opinion starkly.
If I’m honest, I don’t really care about the other opinions in the room. The only ones I care about are my own, Rocky’s, and Jared’s. He built this company on his back and did me service after service through the years. I’d never dream of disrespecting a man of his caliber. The fact that he’s Caplin Hawkins’s—one of my best friends—father only reinforces that fact.
Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have played this one so loose when I first arrived?
I watch on in anticipation as Jared purses his lips for a moment, pondering a direction of action. It’s only at the end of a ten-second pause that he finally comes to a conclusion. “Right, then. Well, I can’t deny I’m impressed with your dedication to both your companion and your unborn child, Hughes. I should expect nothing less after all the years you’ve dedicated to this company, but I have to admit, this surprised me.” He chuckles as he pulls his chair back into position and takes a seat in it.
I follow his lead and do the same in my own, my fake belly and boobs jostling slightly under my suit as my ass meets the seat.
“How’s it been so far?” he asks, much to the shock of my peers.
