Shopping for a CEO's Baby (Shopping for a Billionaire Series Book 16), стр. 38
It's my mother who cuts through it all.
“You love them,” she says simply to James. “You loved Elena. You love your sons. You love my daughter. And you love these grandbabies. That's what's so wonderful about love, James: We love people for who they are. Not for who they could be.”
Stunned, he says nothing, the click of the projector moving on to a picture of me at four, wearing a Wednesday Addams costume for Halloween.
The room bursts into laughter.
And I reach for another slice of Cheeto cake.
14
Amanda
He's late.
It’s the third meeting of our childbirth class. There are only four couples in the class, and they have all managed to be on time. Eighty-seven point five percent success. Andrew is the remaining twelve point five percent of the students.
I'm going to cut that point five percent off if he doesn't walk through the door in the next thirty seconds.
Where are you??? I text furiously, as if being angry will make him more likely to respond.
Nothing.
Not a word.
Hope, our childbirth instructor, gives me that raised-eyebrow look, the one that hints at wondering where my husband is, but doesn't outright ask in case the answer is something uncomfortable. I smile back, shrug, and furiously type another text.
Nothing. No answer.
The tears are so close now, sudden and fierce. I'm an emotional wrecking ball, swinging wildly on a long chain. Here I am, looking like I'm nine months pregnant in a class for seven-monthers, sitting all alone. I’ve been abandoned by my husband, who is too busy to bother spending time with me learning how to bring his own progeny into the world.
How pathetic.
Big, fat tears well up in my eyes, which makes sense because I'm nothing but big and fat, too. I can't cry, because if I start, I won't stop.
My hip starts that nerve pain that’s been triggering lately, so my ass cheek aches, on top of everything else. Shifting slightly, I blink and twin drops fall from my eyes onto my light-gray top.
Great. Now I look like it's raining on my breasts.
“Amanda?” Hope says softly, her hand on my shoulder. She smells like orange eucalyptus. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” I say with a laugh, trying to pass my emotions off as nothing. “Being silly. Andrew's running late.”
She leans in and whispers, “He's the CEO of a major company. And on the board of this hospital. I get it. No problem.”
Her compassion makes me feel even worse.
I sniff. “Thanks. We can just start and I'll do both parts.”
Hope laughs softly. “I'll fill in for him. Today it's all about massage and supporting your partner through the discomfort.”
Oh, no.
A sob escapes me, full and ripe, which only makes Hope feel worse for me, which elicits more tears. The other couples are doing their best to ignore me. One woman gives me a pity smile, the kind I hate more than anything in the world.
“Do you have a friend who could come over?”
I nod and grab my phone. “Let me try my friend Shannon.”
She straightens up and moves to chat with another couple. I know she's buying me time.
You had better be trapped by an evil villain and your only excuse for not being here is you have to save the world from certain doom, I text Andrew.
On second thought, I add: Or you've discovered a source of Cheeto ice cream and are getting me some as a surprise.
As I switch over to text Shannon, a tap on the door makes me look up, a familiar face giving me a wide-eyed, sheepish look.
“Gina?” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”
Hope waves to her. “Hi! Oh, good.” She smiles at me. “You got a friend to fill in for Andrew!”
You have got to be kidding me.
That's exactly why Gina's here.
“So, Andrew can't make it?” she says, walking to me, peering at the other couples as if she's a cyborg studying how to mimic being human. She crouches behind me, spreads her knees, and starts kneading my shoulders.
I startle. “What are you doing?”
“I'm filling in for Andrew?”
“You're what?”
“He sent me? His flight back from New York was delayed by mechanical failure there?”
“Why didn't he text me back?”
“His phone died?”
“He could text you, but not me?”
“I haven't heard from him in two hours? He said if he didn't call back, to come here and be with you just in case?”
“So he texted you to fill in as the father in this childbirth class? This takes the cake, Gina. Andrew leans on you to do everything for him, but come on! I can't believe he–ah, God, right there,” I moan as her fingers do magic on the spot in my shoulder that's been aching forever.
“Like that?”
“Mmmm. Where did you learn to do that?”
“I was a licensed massage therapist before I got computer training to be an admin?”
Hope waves a book in the air, smiling at Gina and me. “I'm so glad everyone has an assistant today! We're going to work on massage, and how to use massage to increase blood flow, decrease pain, and make our moms comfortable.”
“Oooooh, perfect! I know this inside out?” Gina purrs.
“And,” Hope says, leaning in, “we'll also focus on perineal massage.” She reaches for a bottle of olive oil.
Gina's fingers come to a dead halt on my shoulders.
“There is no bonus Andrew could give me to justify this, Amanda.” Her voice goes down at the end of the sentence, making my blood run cold. She pauses. “Unless a private jet is on the table, and even then I'd need a large dose of scopolamine. And a–”
“You're not touching my perineum, Gina!”
“I chose massage school over esthetician after the first term because there was no way I was learning how to wax a labia. I can unknot a piriformis in no time flat, but hand me a labia and