“Every morning, as I slowly emerge from the haze of sleep, one of two things tells me you're awake. If you're spooning with me, it's the wood tapping at my ass. If not, it's the tent in the sheet.”
“My steady breath doesn't provide adequate proof of life?”
“It's not as amusing. Or as predictable.”
“Why are we talking about my penis so much, Amanda? I'm trying not to make it the center of attention, but you're making it hard.”
At his phrasing, my lips twitch.
He groans.
I squeeze his hand. “I need this. Being silly. Playful. Goofy. The serious part of it all is a given, Andrew. Of course, I'll go on full bed rest. Of course, you'll do whatever you can to make life safe for me and the babies. Of course, we'll both do the responsible thing. I married you because you're the full package–smart, sexy, and most of all–a grown-up. Mature and always ready to do what needs to be done so that everyone you love is taken care of.”
“You think that of me?”
“I know that of you.”
He nods slowly, methodically. “We're in this together. Forever.”
“Right. Together. So if I'm on bed rest, we're binge watching all those series we've been ignoring. Together.”
“Oh, hell.”
I give him an evil grin. “That's right! I get to pick everything we watch.”
“Not the baking show. It's like Ambien.”
“Then get ready to fall asleep to British accents and have cream filling dreams.”
He kisses my temple. “As you wish.”
16
Amanda
The door shuts and I find myself alone.
Completely alone for the first time in two days.
For the last twenty-nine hours, Andrew hasn't left my side. We've binge watched all the baking shows I wanted to see, a round-the-world motorcycle show from the early 2000s, and a documentary series about a cult.
Andrew's begging for fiction, so Outlander's next.
But right now, he's at the office, tormenting Gina, and it's my turn to get work settled. “Clear the decks” is a horrible phrase for someone who prides herself on fixing problems, because it means I'm the problem. The stuff on my plate can't be there any more.
I have to transfer it to someone else.
So my notepad has a long list of tasks, starting with number one:
Call Carol.
Except... she beats me to it.
Carol's name pops up on the screen as my cell rings. I answer.
“Amanda! Shannon called and told me. Are you okay? What's happening?”
“Early labor. I'm fine. On bed rest, though.” I cross her name off my list. “And it means I need to make some big changes.”
“Right. Legs elevated, drink lots of water, no sex–” She gasps. “Poor Andrew.”
“Poor me,” I mutter.
Giggly, girlish laughter pours through my phone. “Okay. Let's change the topic. Back to work. What do you need from me?”
“For you to accept a new job.”
Silence. As the seconds tick on, I grow more nervous. Why isn't Carol saying anything?
“A new job?”
“Right.”
“Like, I'm fired?”
“WHAT? No! Of course not!”
“Whew.” A shaky series of sounds, like she's almost crying, come through. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I want to promote you, Carol. I need you more than ever.”
“PROMOTE? Like, a raise? More power?”
“Not sure about power, but yes. A raise. A promotion. Interim director of market research.”
“Director! But you're director!”
“I won't be for a while.”
“Are you doing this because of the babies?”
“Of course. That, and now you have to manage Agnes and Corrine.” I smile.
A low, feral sound pours through the speakers. “Ah, God, I forgot you hired them. Hmmm. I don't know...”
She knows, and I know, that she needs the money.
I quote her new salary.
“You're serious? What about Josh?”
“First of all, he has different skills, and his IT work doesn't cover what we do. Second of all, it's cruel to foist Agnes and Corinne on him.”
“And it isn't cruel to shove them on me?”
I ignore that.
“Plus, I need someone who can manage people and details, and you're good at that.”
“Plus, you're desperate.”
“That, too.”
“How are you feeling, though? Really? Early labor is scary.”
“Did you go through it?”
“No. But I can only imagine.”
“Well,” I say, going into logic mode, because processing how I feel right now is too hard, “the babies are thirty weeks, so they're viable. If I had delivered yesterday, they would have gone to the NICU but chances of a problem are small. The big issue is lung development.”
“Right. Which means they need to wait a little longer.”
“Yes.”
“What can I do for you, Amanda?”
“Take the job.”
She sighs. “Not as an employee. I know what you want me to do at Anterdec. What can I do for you as your friend?”
Now the tears rise up.
“I don't... I don't...” Words dissolve into salt water as emotions render me mute. I'm the fixer. I fix other people's problems. I'm not used to having other people offer to fix mine.
“Look. I'm at work, but there are papers for you to sign. How about I hit your favorite micro-creamery and get the Cheeto Special, the one they make just for you? I'll charge it to our department, come to your house, and we'll drown our sorrows in ice cream while figuring out a transition plan.”
“Transition means something really different to me now. And you're just trying to get free ice cream and halfway closer to your house so you can blow off the afternoon at work and miss the traffic.”
“Yes.”
“You're not even denying it!”
“Nope.”
“Because you know the words Cheeto Special made this a done deal.”
“Yep.”
“Then get over here! Now!”
She hangs up before I can say another word.
If there's one thing about Carol you have to know, it's this:
She's a doer.
I'm a fixer.
And right now, she's my savior.
Ding dong!
The doorbell jolts me out of the doze I'm in on the sofa, enough to make me startle.
“ICE CREAM DELIVERY!” Carol shouts from the other side of the door.
“I know their code, Carol. You don't have to yell,” Shannon snaps at her.
“You know the code? What is it?”
“I'm not telling you! That's private.”
Bickering sounds follow, then the click of the front door opening.
Shannon appears ahead of Carol, the two clearly related, though different. Shannon is a blend of her mom and dad, with Marie's hair color and bright brown eyes like Jason's.