by Max Monroe
I shrank back at the look on Cassie’s face. Dean pretended to scratch the air like an angry cat, and I had to bite my lip to hold in my laugh. “What do you mean before I’m able to get an epidural?”
“Some doctors make first-time mothers wait until they have dilated to four centimeters before they can get their epidural,” Georgia explained.
“What! Four centimeters!” Cass shouted in response, and people inside the bistro started to give us the side-eyed glances that said, What the hell is going on over there? I wasn’t sure whether I should scoot closer and try to defuse the bomb or run while I still could. In the end, the horribly morbid part of me couldn’t stand to miss the carnage.
Georgia, the pregnancy expert, nodded while a slightly smug smile consumed her pretty pink lips. “Yeah, four centimeters.”
Cassie looked at me for help.
It’s your own fault for not leaving.
I shrugged and contorted my face apologetically. “She’s right. Some doctors do make first-time moms wait until they’re past that four-centimeter mark.”
“Oh. Hell. No.” She shook her head maniacally. “Hell fucking no,” she muttered and then placed both hands over her belly and stared down at it. “Sorry, baby, but Mommy is not going to wait until she’s almost halfway to complete and ready to push before she gets some goddamn relief from you trying to claw your way out of my uterus. I love you, but yeah, not happening, little man.”
“And the cursing is back,” Georgia muttered, in my opinion, unwisely.
“You can shut the fuck up!” Cassie snapped back.
Dean’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Can we not talk about pregnancy and uteruses and vaginas? I came here to eat, not vomit.”
“Oh, shut up, drama queen.” Georgia glared at Dean. “This is important stuff. She needs to be prepared.” And then her eyes moved back toward Cass. “And you need to read those pregnancy books I bought you. And ask your doctor questions about delivery. And honestly, you need to really consider getting a—”
Cass pointed at her. “Do. Not. Say. That. Word. Again.”
“Doula.”
“Fine!” Cassie shouted, and her hands went up in the air. “Dean’s my doula. Congrats, Dean. You’ve got the job.”
Dean’s face morphed into absolute panic. “Oh no, honey. Hell no, actually.” He held up both of his hands and wiggled his fingers. “These are not the hands of a man who touches pussycats. Especially ones that are crowning and ready to deliver.” He grimaced as the words left his lips.
“Actually,” I pointed out with the raise of one finger. “It’s the baby that crowns. Not the pussycat.”
Dean leaned forward and pretended to retch. Needless to say, that got us more attention from the surrounding patrons.
And I couldn’t stop myself from bursting into laughter.
Georgia and Cassie stared at me in confusion.
“What? I’m sorry, but the mere idea of Dean being in the delivery room while you’re screaming your head off is beyond comical. It is fucking gold.”
Dean grinned, and Cassie started to laugh.
But Georgia had not a single change in her serious, steadfast facial expression.
I pointed toward her as my laughter slowed. “Look, I get it, you’re worried about Cassie and the baby. And I think it’s really adorable you care about her so much.” I glanced at Cass. “Seriously, she’s only doing this out of love, so cut her some slack.”
My eyes met Georgia’s again. “But come on, Georgia. You need to cool it on the crazy. Cassie is taking care of herself. She’s taking care of the baby. And both mom and baby are healthy and happy. I mean, look at her. Only a healthy pregnant mom could walk around with that gorgeous glow. Plus, if the size of her boobs is any indication, her baby will be well fed and taken care of, always.”
“Okay. Okay.” A soft smile crested Georgia’s mouth, and she held up both hands. “I get it. I’m a little bit crazy, but it’s only because I love you,” she declared as she winked at Cass. “I promise, I’ll do my best to try not to be so overprotective and worried about my best friend and godson. But just cut me some slack, all right? Some days, I just worry about you. I just want you and little man to be healthy.”
“Those are literally all the exact things you just said,” Dean whispered to me under his breath. I giggled a little but shushed him so that the ladies could finish their moment.
“Stop stealing my husband’s moves.” Cassie winked back at her. “And I promise I will try to be more understanding. Love you, Wheorgie.”
“Love you too, Casshead.”
“Awwwwww….” Dean said with a big smile. “You two are the fucking cutest.”
“Hey! Watch your language around my kid!” Cassie exclaimed as she held both hands over her belly. “He can hear you. And I’d really love it if he doesn’t have a fucking mouth full of curse words the second he comes out of my vagina.”
“But, honey, you just said fucking,” Dean admonished.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m covering his ears.”
We all laughed at that.
Dean smirked and stared at Cassie’s chest in disgust. “You’re right,” he told me. “They are literally bigger than my head.” He waved his hand over them and looked Cassie in the eye. “Do you mind covering those up a little more when we meet for lunch? I mean, they are starting to scare me. I honestly think I’m going to start having nightmares.”
Cassie tugged down the neck of her shirt even farther. “Yeah, well, my husband thinks otherwise. And I prefer him to walk around with a constant boner, so consider your suggestion declined.”
Dean put on some imaginary Fuck you lipstick with his middle finger, and then checked it in his real-life compact that he pulled from God knows where.
“Speaking of Thatch, have you guys decided on any names yet?” I asked, genuinely curious and trying to move the conversation along. I knew it had been an ongoing debate between the two of them. So many of the names Cassie suggested were ridiculous, I had started to wonder if she was just pranking him.
Oddly enough, pranks had been the foundation of their relationship. I’d missed the details, but every once in a while, the group liked to take a trip down memory lane.
Her lips curved like a cat with its cream. “You have no idea how much fun I’m having with this.” Jumping into action, she pulled her phone out of her purse and set it down on the table, tapping the screen a few times and pulling up a text conversation between her and Thatch. “Read these.”
I foolishly took the phone from where it sat and started scrolling.
Cassie: Naked Dinner tonight? I’m horny and need to be stuffed full of your giant cock. Pretty please? With cherries and whipped cream and a naked Cass spread across the kitchen table?
Thatch: Fuck, Cass. That got my cock hard, instantly.
Cassie: So, that’s a yes?
Thatch: That’s a FUCK YES. GET NAKED. I’M LEAVING WORK NOW.
Cassie: But…it’s only noon, honey.
Thatch: I DON’T GIVE A FUCK. NAKED LUNCH. GET NAKED, CRAZY. DADDY’S COMING HOME.
Cassie: I have the best Daddy in the whole wide world.
So horrified I didn’t think I could speak, I shoved the phone at Georgia.
“Uhhh…” Georgia muttered once she read through the same conversation I’d just choked back down in the form of vomit. “I really could’ve gone my whole life without knowing you call Thatch ‘Daddy.’”
“That big tall drink of motherfucking water could be my daddy any day of the week.” Dean sighed and then pointed at Cassie. “You are one lucky bitch. Don’t ever forget that.”
I laughed. “So…is naked lunch code for a brainstorming session for baby names?”
Cassie smirked. “Nah. Naked lunch is code for Fuck my brains out, Daddy.”
“Why did you make me read that?” Georgia asked, but the smile on her face contradicted the admonishment in her voice. “Now I’ve got all kinds of weird shit floating around in my head.
”
Cassie cackled. “God, I love you, Wheorgie. You always make my day.” She swiped the screen a few more times and pulled up a different section of the conversation.
“Here. This is what I meant for you to read.”
None of us reached for the phone.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Stop being little bitches.” Cassie shoved it toward me.
Georgia and Dean scooted around and leaned over my shoulders so we could read at the same time.
Thatch: What do you think about Liam?
Cassie: That reminds me of this model I photographed about four years ago.
Thatch: *growls* Never mind.
Cassie: What? It was just some random model I took photos of.
Thatch: Did you fuck him?
Cassie: Yeah…we probably shouldn’t use that name.
Thatch: Benjamin, but Benny for short.
“Benny?” Georgia shrieked. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? That’s practically my name.”
“Relax. That was Thatch’s idea, not mine,” Cassie comforted.
When Georgia’s eyes went back to the phone, Cassie mouthed, “Front-runner.”
I shook my head, and Dean chortled into his mimosa.
Cassie: *singing* She’s got electric boobs and a Mohawk too…Buh-Buh-Buh-Bennie and the Jets….
Thatch: “She’s got electric boots a mohair suit.”
Cassie: Those are not the lyrics.
Thatch: Yes. They. Are. Google it. And Benjamin is out now. You just ruined it.
Thatch: What about Max?
Cassie: When I was in fifth grade, I had a gym teacher named Max. He must’ve had 100 moles on his body, and his chest hair always peeked above the neckline of his shirt. God, I’m getting nauseated just thinking about it.
Thatch: Fuck. Never mind. What about Declan?
Cassie: Awwwww, I’m picturing this little leprechaun with a pot of gold now!
Thatch: Jesus, Cass.
Cassie: We could dress little Declan up in a green suit and green hat!!!
Thatch: NO.
Cassie: Thatcher…
Thatch: No. Give me some name ideas since you just ruined all of mine.
Cassie: My top three: Walter. Kanye. Channing.
Thatch: Are you high off pickle juice again? I mean, seriously, Kanye?
Cassie: I thought Kanye Kelly was a kick-ass name.
Thatch: Yeah. No way, Crazy. No fucking way.
Thatch: I love you, honey. I really do. But I’m getting worried our child will be nameless.
Cassie: What about Seaman?
Thatch: Pretty sure that’s what got us here trying to pick out baby names.
Cassie: Not SEMEN, but Seaman. Little Seaman Kelly…I think it’s got a certain quality to it, honey.
Thatch: Yeah. A spooge-like quality. I can’t continue this conversation with you right now or else I’m just going to start beating my head against my desk.
Cassie: Naked Dinner tonight?
Thatch: I’ll bring the SEMEN.
Georgia’s nose scrunched up. “Seaman? Really, Cass?”
Cassie grinned. “Hilarious, right?”
I nodded. “Not gonna lie, I thought it was brilliant.”
Dean grimaced. “If you name your child Kanye Kelly, I will scratch your eyes out like a feral cat.”
Cassie laughed. “Fierce words, diva.”
He nodded with raised eyebrows.
“Well, will you promise to take care of little Kanye Kelly because his mother won’t be able to see worth a sneakers without her eyeballs?”
Dean’s head tilted to the side. “Huh? Sneakers?”
“It’s her replacement word for s-h-i-t,” Georgia explained on a whisper.
“You realize the baby can’t spell yet, right?” I asked with amusement.
“Considering your kid is doing advanced calculus at the age of six, I think you might be wrong. My baby could be figuring out a way to cure cancer inside the womb right now for all we know.”
Georgia burst into laughter. “Yeah. That’s not what a baby made by Cassie and Thatcher is doing right now, I know that with certainty.”
Cassie glared, but Georgia held up a finger and went on. “Scheming? For sure. Plotting? Yep. But finding a cure for cancer? Nope. Not happening.”
Cassie’s ice-cold stare melted into a grin.
Dean downed the rest of his drink in one swig and signaled for the waitress to bring another.
“What’s your deal?” Georgia asked, twirling a finger in the direction of his glass.
“I’m in fucking New Jersey,” he whispered like the words tasted foul.
“Oh, come on!” Georgia said with a laugh. “You took the day off. My husband is essentially paying you to be here.”
“Well, of course, you like it,” he dismissed. “You live here now. You didn’t have to sit next to a shirtless man on the train who smelled like a decaying rabbit.”
Cassie covered her mouth, mumbling from behind her hand, “Well, that’s graphic.”
“Trust me,” Dean said with a sigh. “The commute is that awful.”
Cassie must have noticed the look on my face. “You do it every day. Is it really as bad as the drama queen says, Win?”
I looked from her face to the others’ and back again, admitting, “I don’t know about the dead rabbit, but it’s not great.”
Georgia’s eyes softened sympathetically.
“I’m actually thinking about moving over here.”
“Oh my God!” Georgia bounced in her seat as Dean made a face of disgust. “You could get a house close to Kline and me! We’d be able to help out with Lex if you needed too!”
Cassie rolled her eyes at Georgia’s enthusiasm.
I reached for Georgia’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks. I’m not sure if I could afford a house near you guys, though.”
“It’s not—”
“It’s a fudging mansion,” Cassie cut her off.
I started to go on, but I stopped talking when the waitress set down our plates. Before I could manage the first bite of my chicken salad, my phone pinged on the table with a text notification. Wes’s name flashing across the screen with the words, Wanna do a late night in the office tonight?
Cassie snatched the phone from the table before I could stop her.
“‘Do a late night in the office’?” she asked with a sly grin. “Hmm… A late night… in the office…with Wes? What does that mean exactly? I’m probably going out on a limb here, but is do a late night code for getting fucked on Wes’s desk?”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed my phone from her.
“Holy s-h-i-t!” Georgia exclaimed. “Are you and Wes having s-e-x?”
I took the largest bite of my chicken salad that I could manage and then proceeded to gesture toward my mouth and shrugged.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Dean announced. “You are boning the delicious, mysterious, hotter-than-the-sun Wes Lancaster? I’m literally eating lunch with the three biggest bitches in the tri-state area right now.”
We all three giggled at that.
“Seriously. Why are you taking all of the hot ones off the market?”
“Kline, Thatch, and Wes like pussy,” Cassie teased. “You like cock, remember?”
Dean grinned. “I do like cock. Love it, actually.”
The woman at the table across from us put her hands over her daughter’s ears. I tried my best to give a nonverbal apology, but she was probably going to want to keep them covered.
Cassie pointed toward me. “So, how is Wes’s cock?”
The burn of the hot seat upon me, I forgot all about that lady and her daughter and engaged in cock talk of my own. Though, to be fair, I was using it to say I wouldn’t talk about the cock. “I’m not talking about Wes’s cock over lunch.”
“But you’ve seen it?” Georgia continued the interrogation.
I just stared back at her as I took a sip of my water.
Cassie’s smile nearly consu
med her face. “And you’ve licked it? Sucked it? Fucked it? Rode that—”
“Yeah. Okay,” Georgia said with a hand in Cassie’s face. “The baby doesn’t need to hear these kinds of things.”
I blushed. Neither did I.
Cassie slapped her hand away. “But I do. Tell me. Are you having sex with Wes?”
I shrugged and did my best to square my shoulders. “Maybe. A little bit.”
“I knew it!” Cassie exclaimed. “I fluffing knew it!”
“Are you guys dating?” Georgia asked.
I shrugged again. “Uhh…well…no. I don’t know… We’re just sort of….”
“So, you’re fuck buddies,” Cassie answered for me. “That’s fantastic. Good for you, Win. Good. For. You.”
“Do you want to date him?” Georgia questioned. “Like, do you want a relationship with him, or is it just about the sex?”
I honestly didn’t know the answer to that.
“What’s he think about your downgrade to Jersey?” Dean asked with a raise of his perfectly coiffed brow.
“He doesn’t think anything,” I countered. “We’re not in a relationship.”
Eyes turned wild and suspicious all around, and I couldn’t really blame them. There was a certain amount of want in my voice despite my efforts to conceal it.
Do I really want a relationship with Wes?
That seemed like a huge risk with a man like him. A man who had a mile-long history of never settling down and always perusing the pussy buffet.
I honestly wasn’t sure he was capable of a relationship, especially with a woman who had a child.
But he’s different with Lex…
Which was true. But that was right now. What would happen six months down the road? Would he still enjoy being in a relationship with a woman who would always make her daughter top priority?