Weights of Wrath (Cipher Office Book 4)

by Smartypants Romance

  “Thank you, Phil, for helping me get that set up.” Babbette claps lightly and smiles at Phil whose face I still haven’t seen. He always seems to be facing the opposite direction. Weird. “The miracle of childbirth is a beautiful thing, but there are many things to consider as you decide which choices are right for you. For instance, you may want to hire a doula. You may decide to avoid any and all drugs and give birth naturally.”

  I snort a laugh because that is so not going to happen. Joey chuckles behind me and shushes me in my ear.

  “You may find clothing irritating when you are in hard labor and opt to only wear a sports bra or even nothing at all.”

  “That’s a thing?” I whisper mostly to myself. Apparently, I’m louder than I realized because now Jenna is looking at me like I’m the bad kid and needs to be sent to the principal’s office.

  “But the first step to deciding these things,” Babbette continues to drone on, “is to know what to expect during labor. This movie will give you a glimpse into the journey so you can begin to make plans. Phil, can you please hit the lights?”

  Quickly, I look over but, once again, the phantom of the childbirth class keeps his face hidden from me. Until suddenly, he doesn’t. And that’s when I realize who he is.

  I shake my head when he catches my eyes and his widen. Old Phil is a regular at The Pie Hole. His spending ways are practically legendary in the dressing room. No wonder he’s been keeping his face hidden. He doesn’t want me to call him out. He scurries over to Jenna and kisses her on the cheek, keeping his eyes on mine in a silent plea to keep my mouth shut. Rest assured, Phil, I’ve got bigger things to worry about than how much baby money you’ve dropped on your favorite dancer, ironically called Baby on stage.

  The room goes dark and the movie begins like I expect—an outside view of a hospital with the sounds of a woman in labor in the background. And that ends up being the only normal thing about this movie.

  It cuts away to the room where the woman in question is butt-ass naked and writhing around on the bed.

  “Wait,” Joey says quietly behind me. “Did Babbette accidentally turn on some porn?”

  An understandable conclusion since her birthing partner is also shirtless. I just have no idea why. To make matters worse, at that exact moment, the woman rolls onto her back and spreads her legs. I’m sure the intent is for us to see the head currently squeezing out of her, but that’s not the part that’s most noticeable.

  “Huh,” Joey says. “By the size of that bush, I think we can definitely assume VCRs are from the seventies.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh. I laugh loudly. I laugh until tears are streaming down my face, and I’m afraid I’m going to fart.

  Babbette cocks her head and furrows her brow, obviously not understanding my humor. Jenna is glaring at me with what amounts to loathing, but I can’t stop.

  “Sorry, sorry.” I wave my hand in front of my face. “Don’t mind me. I laugh when I’m nervous.”

  That answer seems to pacify the instructor. Crazy train over there is another story, but frankly, I’m shocked she’s sitting through this movie for the third time. Although if Phil is as big of a perv as Joey, and I know from experience that he is, I suddenly understand why she didn’t get any resistance from him.

  “Listen,” I whisper to Joey. “I’ve already made a decision about childbirth.”

  “Great. What do you want to do?”

  “Just knock me out and wake me when it’s over.”

  Joey laughs again and wraps his arms around me, squeezing me a little tighter. I don’t hate it. Actually, I really like it. Even in public. “Hate to tell you, but that’s not the way it works.”

  “Fine. Then you make all the decisions until you give me the drugs. Then we can decide.”

  “I haven’t done this before, but I’m pretty sure that’s still not the way it works.”

  I huff in response. “Fine. But at the bare minimum, please make sure I’m groomed to perfection and don’t look like that.”

  I point up at the screen right as the baby is pushed all the way out. Again, that’s what I should be focusing on but, instead, all I see is the umbilical cord still dangling out of her and her lady bits looking like they just went through a meat grinder.

  My jaw drops open and I know my eyes are as big as saucers. That is what I’m going to look like when this is over? All stretchy and swollen and disgusting?

  I better take advantage of Joey’s oral skills sooner rather than later because there is no way he’ll ever go down on me again once that happens.

  And no matter what he says, one decision is set in stone from this point on—I am not giving up my fabulous boobs, too.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  JOEY

  Today is technically my easy workout day—cardio and some light weights—but I have too much pent-up energy for that. I should take the break and enjoy it. Rest is a vitally important part of health and being at your best. But I need to sweat out the mental energy and my three-mile run on the track upstairs didn’t do it for me. There’s too much on my mind that I can’t seem to make heads or tails of. Too much to process.

  Wiping my face with the hem of my white tank, I take a deep breath and prep myself to do more farmer carries. I squat down and grab the barbells, one in each hand and slowly stand up making sure to hold my core tight. Sounds easy until you add in the fifty pounds of weight on each end of the barbells. Both of them weigh a total of roughly a hundred and forty pounds and teeter back and forth with my movement. That’s the key to this exercise—keeping the barbell balanced while I walk back and forth as quickly as possible. In competition, the weight and how far you can go both count towards your success.

  Abel tried to make fun of me for this exercise one time until he tried it. It was hard not to laugh whenever the front of his barbell hit the ground, making him stop short.

  Scratch that, I laughed hard, and had no problem with him knowing it. He almost rammed the back end into his face, and if there wasn’t a clip keeping the weights in place, they would have scattered all over. It was one of those times I wish I had been shooting a video because I could watch it over and over. Serves the fucker right. He may have a plaque hanging in the weight room for his success in squatting the heaviest amount of weight, but we both know who’s actually stronger. I just prove it in non-traditional ways.

  Seems like I’m doing a lot of things the non-traditional way right now. And therein lies my emotional problem—Rosalind.

  I’m worried about her. I’m worried for her. I know she’s struggling with pending motherhood, but it feels like her negative feelings go deeper than that, and I don’t know how to help. It’s as if she’s falling into some sort of depression. The thought had crossed my mind a couple of times over the months, but I dismissed them as being part of her standoffish personality. Then we went to the childbirth class and something Babbette said made me realize I may be handing this whole situation all wrong.

  After the childbirth/porn video our instructor kept referring to as a “beautiful documentation of our journey,” she started talking about postpartum depression and what it looks like. Anxiety, mood swings, insomnia, fear—all signs of depression after the baby is born, but it hit me that they’re also signs of depression in general. They are also all things that seem to be getting worse as time goes on.

  I do my best to let her know I’m not going anywhere. I rub her feet every night, I get her favorite takeout, I try to make anything to do with the baby fun and light, even stopping for ice cream after every doctor’s appointment, but she seems to be pulling into herself more and more.

  Part of my problem is I don’t know her very well. Sure, I know she loves daytime talk shows and the finer things in life. She is wildly independent, a lot on the bossy side, and has a huge family that she loves, even if they overwhelm her. But those things all seem surface level. I have no threshold in which to gauge any changes in behavior and, truthfully, that kind of scares me. What do I reall
y know about her beyond her previous employment and that she’s having my baby? Almost nothing. And that’s a scary realization. We’re going to be part of each other’s lives for at least eighteen more years. She’s going to help me raise my child. She’s going to be equally responsible for this child’s health and well-being, but is she up to the task?

  I don’t think she’s a psychopath or anything, but there are still the unknowns rolling around in my brain, and the more she holds it all in, the more uncomfortable it makes me feel. The more it also makes me worried she’ll take a nosedive into a serious depression postpartum. And I have no idea how to make it better.

  Instead of wallowing in my thoughts, I’m out here carrying barbells and trying to shred my muscles to the point of pain so I can concentrate on that and not my worries. I need some time to let my own thoughts rest. Maybe that’ll help me sort it out.

  I hear the door open and slam closed behind whoever has joined me. I doubt they’re here to work out. Probably a staff member taking advantage of this beautiful spring day. I’m surprised none of the classes have moved out here for a change of scenery yet. It’s only a matter of time.

  “Isn’t today supposed to be your light day?”

  Ah. Abel. Makes sense. He knows me better than just about anyone, so I’m sure he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. Of course, I’m not going to tell him. That’s too easy, and it’s way more fun to keep him guessing. I may have lots of thoughts and feelings right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m a smart-ass at heart.

  “Okay, stalker,” I grunt as I slowly lower the barbells down to the ground. “Super weird that you know my workout schedule.”

  He saunters over and inspects the weights I’m using, probably curious about how much I can carry. I know. I’m impressive.

  “I’ve worked with you for years. It’s not hard to see the patterns of behavior when you rarely deviate from them.”

  “Well, I’m changing things up today. You could join me if you want. Make a real man out of you.”

  He holds his hand up. “Pass. I trained Trevor this morning, and you know how he likes me to work in some sets. My quads are already tapped out for the day.”

  “Suit yourself. But a little creativity in your workout wouldn’t hurt.” I wipe my brow again and look around the small yard, trying to decide what I want to do next. “Do you happen to know if any of the sleds are free inside?”

  Abel gives me a concerned look. “Okay, now I know you being out here alone is more than just deviating. What’s wrong with you?”

  I easily avoid his gaze by taking the barbells apart so I can put each piece away. “Why does something have to be wrong? My comp is in less than two weeks. I need to get in some extra workouts to prep.”

  “I’m calling bullshit on that. I’ve seen you train for Strongman. Hell, I’ve helped you work out for it. You have never added sleds as part of your training.”

  Flashing him a cocky grin, I refuse to admit my weakness. “Just because I have a competition doesn’t mean I don’t want to look my best, too. A little fine-tuning of these glutes will get me ready for bathing suit season. The bend and snap isn’t just for the ladies.” I wiggle my ass at him just to make him gag.

  “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, but I also don’t appreciate you planning on showing your ass to any woman besides my cousin.”

  I must flinch at the reminder of her because Abel’s demeanor completely changes to one of compassion.

  “Ahh. So that’s why you’re out here beating up your body. Woman problems.” I could deny his hunch, but I’m already tired this conversation. It’s why I came out here to be alone—so I could feel how I feel without anyone asking me about it. Looks like it was a short-lived solution. “How’s she doing, anyway? For real. Not the same non-answer answer she gives me every weekday.”

  “She’s giving you non-answers?” This news surprises me and is also a little concerning. I would feel better knowing she’s talking to someone, even if it isn’t me.

  “Her standard answers are ‘fine,’ ‘any day now,’ and ‘we don’t know yet.’ I can see it in her eyes that she’s struggling with something but can’t get anything else out of her. And now you’re out here on your easy day… what’s really going on, Joey?”

  I drop my head and put my hands on my hips. As much as I don’t want to have this conversation, reality is Abel knows Rosalind better than I do. Maybe he can give me some insight as to what’s happening, or at least some advice on how to help her. He’s also been through a pregnancy before. If nothing else, maybe he can tell me what’s happening is normal.

  “I don’t know,” I finally admit, blowing out a frustrated breath. “She refuses to read any baby books and she barely made it through our childbirth and parenting class the other day. At one point she left claiming she had to pee, but she was gone way too long for me to believe her. I was afraid she ditched the class.”

  Abel laughs. “I won’t pretend to know for sure, but trust me when I tell you everything down in this general vicinity”—he waves his hands in front of his own genitals—“is going haywire for her right now.”

  I cringe. “She said something about a hemorrhoid, but I thought she was yanking my chain. Could she really have that? In her butt? I thought only old people got those.”

  Abel shakes his head. “Old people and pregnant women, my friend. May had a really bad one. She bitched about it the whole time she was pregnant with Mabel. Maybe you need to grab some Preparation H on your way home.”

  “Maybe,” I say absentmindedly because I don’t remember anything unusual in that area last time I went down on her. If she does have that issue, I’m kind of glad I missed it. My gut, though, tells me that would be an easier fix than what I’m actually dealing with. I guess I need to level with Abel. “Between you and me, I’m starting to wonder if she’s going to bail on us at some point. Like I’ll come home one day, and she’ll just be gone. Maybe not until after the baby is born, but I just feel like I need to prepare myself to be a single dad. It’s that bad.”

  Abel’s jaw clenches, but I’m not sure if it’s in anger or concern. “Rosie? She won’t do that.”

  “No one calls her that.”

  “Whatever.” Abel rolls his eyes and I can tell the gears in his head are turning. “Okay. Real talk. What are you doing to make her feel like she’s not alone in this?”

  “I give her a foot rub every night. And I big spoon her when she falls asleep.”

  His eyebrows rise ever so slightly. “I had no idea you guys had become that physically intimate.”

  I shrug. This is old news to me. “Her bed was making her back hurt, so she moved into my room. Plus, her hormones are making her uncomfortably horny—”

  “Hup, hup, hup, nope.” He holds his hand up to stop me. “I want to know nothing about my cousin’s sex life. You knocking her up is weird enough. I need no details. Have you maybe cooked her dinner?”

  I refuse to admit to the outcome of this very scenario knowing Abel will never let me live it down, so I just answer with, “You know what happens when I cook.”

  He nods because likely he’s still finding spaghetti sauce in random places from the last time I tried to feed his kids. “Maybe order her favorite takeout?”

  “That’s the thing, man,” I say as I walk to the bench next to the wall and plop down on it. Rubbing my hand down my face, I shake my head in frustration. “I’ve done all that. I’ve made it a priority to do everything I can to let her know she’s not in this alone. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. This is my family. She is my family now. But no matter what I do, I can’t seem to help her out of whatever funk this is. And it’s getting worse.”

  “But have you told her that?”

  “What?”

  Abel sits next to me and rests his elbows on his knees. “Let me ask you a question—how do you really feel about Rosalind?”

  “Hey, you used her name!”

 
“Don’t tell her. It’s too much fun pissing her off.”

  I chuckle because it is fun. She’s damn cute when she’s feisty. “Can’t argue with you there.”

  “Really,” he prods. “If your life depended on it, how would you answer my question? Do you like her like a friend? Are you in love with her? Are you just tolerating her because of your kid? What?”

  I pick at the callouses marring my hands as I think about how I really feel. I know for sure I don’t just put up with her. How could I? She’s funny and tough and sexy as hell. She’s smarter than she gives herself credit for and her dreams are unique and interesting. And she tolerates me and all the things I’m terrible at, which is basically anything outside this place.

  “I don’t know if we know each other well enough to say it’s love yet.”

  Abel nods slowly. “Valid point. What else?”

  “But I like her, Abel. Really like her. Beyond just being a cool co-worker I chat with during the day. I mean I love hanging out with her at home. I love that she’s working on her future and the things she wants to accomplish, even if she doesn’t know I found her GED study book. I love that she’s going for it. I love her pissy attitude and the way she can put me in my place with just a look. She’s entertaining and… she’s so fucking beautiful. And not just on the outside. Just look at how much she’s sacrificed for our baby. Not everyone would do that.”

  Abel, if anyone, knows exactly what I’m saying. His ex, May, left him and his daughter to live with her manager boyfriend. Never mind that she wasn’t a model at that point, or at this point either actually. Regardless, her family got in the way of her dreams, so she got rid of them. It was traumatic on everyone at the time. Thankfully, Elliott showed up and they got a second chance at being a happy, healthy, two-parent family. Again, with the non-traditional in this family. Are unusual situations genetic?

  “Think about that for a second.” Abel breaks my thoughts. I’m hoping he has some words of wisdom. “Rosalind has always been fiercely independent and worked her ass off because she loves spending money.”