“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 I'm dangerous.”
“What does that mean?”
“Let's just say I'm really glad that in the student clinic, I only did one shift and they had liability insurance. There's a woman in Melrose who I still light a candle for at Mass.”
“What did you do to her?”
Before she can reply, my phone rings. Hope gives me a look that reminds me of being hushed by my preschool teacher.
Pressing one ear shut, I put the phone up to the other one and whisper, “Andrew! What are you doing?”
“I finally got my phone working. I'm sorry. It's been malfunction after malfunction.”
As I peer into the phone, I realize he's wearing headphones. And shouting.
“Where are you?”
“On my way!”
Hope starts waving her arms for me to simultaneously pay attention to her and be quiet.
“Shhh! Hope's teaching us today's lesson.” As I speak with him, the instructor hands something to Gina.
Whose mouth drops into an O of shock.
I peer over my belly. “Is that a..?”
Gina moves it so I get a better look.
“I'm Facetiming you,” Andrew says into the phone. “Let me see. I can't be there, but I can be there,” he emphasizes.
“I'm not sure you want to see this.”
“Of course I do. If I can't be there, I can watch.”
That sounds porny, but I don't say that because another look from Hope like the one she shot me a moment ago and I'll burst into tears.
Gina's eyebrows go up and she moves the item in her hand within view of the screen as she waves half-heartedly at Andrew.
His brow drops in confusion, then shoots up. “Is that a–”
“Sex toy?” Gina asks.
“Labia,” Hope says loudly. “We're looking at a silicone replica of the labia, vulva, vagina, and perineum.”
“Where's the clitoris?” one of the women across the room jokes.
“That's what he said,” someone else calls out, making everyone fall into middle-school giggles.
“Andrew,” I hiss into my phone, staring at his übercalm face. I know that face. It's the expression he gets when he knows he's done something wrong but he's going to Mr. Cool his way out of it. He has a presence, a kind of command that takes over in moments like this.
It pisses me off to no end.
Because it implies I'm being unreasonable, and I am anything but.
“Yes?”
“If you don't get here in the next twenty minutes, I'll have to let Gina massage my fake perineum, and there are some lines your executive assistant should never cross.”
“I'm, like, getting the platinum health insurance plan for bronze prices?” Gina says, grabbing the phone from me. “And if I'm touching that silicone replica thing, I get a better parking place than the one on the third floor?”
“Have facilities see what they can do about the parking,” Andrew says.
“You said that last time? And I got a spot by the elevator but it's next to the dumpster?”
Hope clears her throat pointedly. “We're about to begin the massage.” She looks at my phone. I turn it around so she can see Andrew's face.
“Hey, Hope,” he says from the screen. “I'm on my way, but stuck in some bad weather here in New York.” A deep, sexy chuckle emerges. “Can you do me a favor and let me Facetime in for this session? I want to support Amanda in every possible way, and your classes have been top notch.”
Her hands fly to her heart, mouth pressing into the universal expression of a woman whose heart has been touched by a flattering schmuck who is trying to get his way.
“You are so sweet, Andrew. Of course, we can let you Facetime!” Hope looks around at all the couples. “Anyone mind? Amanda's husband is Andrew McCormick, a member of the board of directors for this hospital, and he's caught in New York in bad weather. Amanda's got twins in there, and at thirty weeks, no less. He needs the up-close experience with her perineum!”
“It's been so long, I'll need a map,” Andrew mutters.
“HEY!”
“YAY! I'm so glad you said YAY!” Hope says to me as everyone else in class nods to give Andrew permission to be here virtually.
“Platinum for bronze,” Gina hisses at Andrew, who gives her a wink.
“You are such a piece of work,” I say to him quietly. “I can't believe you flirted with our childbirth instructor like that!”
Genuine astonishment fills his face. “That wasn't flirting. You know what flirting looks like from me.”
“I do. It's a bulldozer filled with testosterone.”
“Exactly.”
“Ewwwww?” Gina huffs. “I want platinum health with free massages and no deductibles?”
“The perineum,” Hope announces, “is here. Colloquially referred to as the taint, because it ain't this and it ain't that (she pauses for obligatory laughter), the perineum is a thick muscle that does a huge amount of work in the final stages of labor. The baby's head stretches it, thinning it out. Most women consider it to be the most painful muscle of all when it stretches–sorry, moms–but it's one that partners can help with.”
Hope holds up her replica and uses two fingers to press and slide along the lower rim of the vulva.
“Gina,” Andrew whispers. I hand her the phone.