Bernie knew it had been the right decision to take the manager’s job at Creekwood Apartments, but she didn’t have any idea just how much she would love it. Within the first six weeks she was there, she subscribed to Units magazine. She joined the Apartment Association of Greater Dallas and attended webinars on tenant relations and the Fair Housing Act. She created a satisfaction survey that she sent to each tenant to get feedback for future services. She managed the work crews, fielded tenant complaints, and handled rent collections. Not that there weren’t problems. A lot of them. But she never brought Jeremy a problem without also proposing a solution, and he had yet to disagree with her. Given Jeremy’s incredible success as a businessman, that gave her ego a really nice boost.
When she thought about Charmin occupying the same job, she almost laughed out loud. Charmin had spent all day every day trying to find ways to avoid work, while Bernie couldn’t wait for the next task. She knew there would come a day very soon when she’d have to slow down, and when that time came, Jeremy was going to send somebody over to help, eventually filling in for her until the babies were born. But for now, she was getting the job done and loving every minute of it.
One afternoon Jeremy was in her office at Creekwood, thumbing through the payables for some of the carpentry work.
“That guy charges an awful lot,” Bernie said, pointing to one of the bills. “It’s starting to really add up. I can get bids from another company if you want me to.”
“What’s the quality of his work?”
“Top-notch.”
“Better to pay a lot to get it done right the first time then to pay again to have it fixed.”
“Good point.”
Jeremy glanced to Bernie’s inbox. “What’s this?” he said, picking up the booklet that was lying on the top.
“Something I picked up about childbirth classes.”
He sat down on the edge of her desk to look at it. “Is that where they teach you all that breathing stuff?”
“Yeah. It’s supposed to help with the pain.”
“I thought painkillers were supposed to help with the pain.”
“Not if you’re having natural childbirth.”
“Is that what you want? Natural childbirth?”
“My doctor says with twins, it’s a pipe dream. Actually, I’d prefer they knock me out and wake me up when the kids turn eighteen, but I don’t think that’s an option.”
“When do the classes start?”
“In a few weeks. I’m supposed to take them in my second trimester instead of my third, because a lot of twin pregnancies don’t make it all the way to term.”
“Says here you need a coach.”
“Yeah. I thought I’d ask Teresa. She has two kids, so she knows what it’s like. With her there to help me—”
“Hold on. What about me?”
“What about you?”
“Shouldn’t I be your coach?”
“Uh…”
“Bernie. I am the babies’ father.”
“You want to be in the delivery room?”
“Why not?”
“Do you remember that PBS documentary we started watching that night about childbirth? When that baby popped out, I thought you were going to faint. You couldn’t turn the channel fast enough.”
“That was because it was somebody else’s baby. It was ugly. That was why I nearly fainted.”
“All newborn babies are ugly. It’s the law.”
Jeremy drew back. “My children will not be ugly.”
“Yeah, but will their father be facedown on the floor?”
“Nope. Coaches are always in control.” He smiled. “I like that. Coach. If I’m going to be in there when the babies are born, I might as well be in charge.”
“Uh-huh. I’m thinking they call it ‘coach’ because it’s a sports reference, which is an excellent way to convince men to show up.”
“Did you sign up for the classes yet?” Jeremy asked.
“Not yet. We can go on either Tuesdays or Thursdays. Two hours a night for six weeks. Which day do you want?”
“I don’t care. Just sign us up and I’ll work around it.”
“You sure you want to do this?”
“Yep.” He tossed the brochure back in her inbox. “I’ve got to get back to the office. Just let me know when it’s a done deal and you have the schedule.”
As Jeremy left the office, Bernie felt a little shell-shocked. He was actually going to be in the room with her when the babies were born? She had never imagined he’d want to do that, and she wasn’t prepared for the feelings that overwhelmed her at the thought of it.
She picked up the brochure. On the front was a photo of a man and woman. The woman was in a labor bed, and the man was holding her hand and smiling at her. All at once she felt the same way she had that first day in her doctor’s waiting room, when she’d seen that couple sitting together, smiling at each other as they felt their baby move. She’d felt a shot of envy so strong it was almost incapacitating, and she was feeling the same way now.
Sometimes at night, in that zone between waking and sleeping, Bernie imagined reaching over to feel a man beside her, a man who was good and kind and dependable who would love her forever. She imagined him turning over and pulling her against him, holding her close, and for those few moments, she could let down her guard, melt into comfort and safety, relax in the warmth of his arms, and all her problems would go away. In the last several years, that dream had become so hazy that she rarely even thought about it anymore, but there was something about the prospect of single motherhood that brought it right back into sharp focus.
She’d never actually visualized the man before. He was more of a thought, a concept, an ideal. But that night, when she lay down to sleep and that hazy dream returned, this time it was Jeremy’s arms that were holding her, his warmth she was sinking into.
And she went to sleep feeling as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
Two weeks later, on a Tuesday evening, Bernie and Jeremy walked down a hospital corridor to room 202 and peered through the glassed-in upper half of the door. Four other couples were already there, sitting in a circle on the floor. Bernie couldn’t help thinking they looked like four beached whales with four clueless people sitting beside them who had no idea how to get them back in the water. And as soon as she and Jeremy joined them on the beach, they’d look just as lost, clueless, and stuck.
“Are we late?” Bernie said. “I hate being late.”
“Yes, we’re late. So we’d better get in there.”
Jeremy opened the door for Bernie, then followed her into the room. Another woman was there in addition to the four couples, but since she was single and nonpregnant, Bernie guessed she was the instructor. She sat on the floor with the others, her legs crossed in a funny yoga position that only freakishly thin women could accomplish. She tilted her head, blinked her giant blue eyes, and gave Bernie a beatific smile.
“Hello. You must be Bernadette.”
Bernie felt an instant sense of ick that she just couldn’t quell. She knew women like this one. They were named Lilith or Harmony or Sapphire and spent a lot of time visualizing world peace.
“Uh… yeah,” Bernie said. “Bernie, actually.”
“Bernie,” the woman said, that smile still stuck to her face. “I’m Crystal.”
Of course you are.
“And this is your birth coach?” Crystal said, turning her attention to Jeremy.
“Yes. This is Jeremy.”
“Hello, Jeremy. Please join us.”
Just then, Jeremy’s phone rang. As he reached for it, Crystal’s saintly smile turned into an admonishing frown.
“Turn it off,” Bernie whispered to him, and he looked back at her as if she’d asked him to sever his own arm.
“Off,” Bernie said.
Jeremy twisted his mouth with irritation, but he turned off his phone and stuck it into his pocket.
“I’m sorry, Jeremy,” Crystal said. “But we’re learning how to make birthing a child a calm, tranquil experience. A ringing phone instantly destroys that tranquility.”
Bernie had never thought of childbirth as being a particularly tranquil activity. But if Crystal could show her how to refrain from gnawing through Jeremy’s jugular vein during labor because he was the one who’d put her there, she was all for it.
Bernie found an open spot on the floor. Jeremy helped her sit, which was becoming more difficult to do with every week that passed. If she was this unwieldy at eighteen weeks, what would she be like in another month or two?
She didn’t even want to think about it.
Crystal suggested they go around the circle so everybody could introduce themselves. Fortunately, only two of the couples were of the traditional variety—husband and wife. One couple was a woman and her female partner, and the other was a woman with her boyfriend, so Bernie didn’t feel even more out of place than she had walking through the door. But she did have the sense of the others sizing them up. As always, they had to be thinking the obvious: She’s with him? What’s the deal with that?
“Now,” Crystal said. “Can anybody tell me the most valuable thing you can take into the birthing room with you?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure it’s not an iPhone,” Jeremy said under his breath, and Bernie raised an eyebrow. No smart remarks. This is serious business.
“The answer is a positive state of mind,” Crystal said. “In light of that, we’re going to learn some positive affirmations. Ladies, will you repeat after me?” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then spoke as if she were channeling Confucius.
“I believe in my capability to give birth.”
Jeremy turned to look at Bernie, one eyebrow lifted. Is this woman for real? She shot him the evil eye. If I have to say this stupid stuff, the least you can do is listen.
Bernie repeated the words, even though she was pretty sure this baby was coming out no matter what she believed.
“I trust my body to birth my child,” Crystal said.
Bernie said the words, but really. Ditto her previous thoughts. Bodily trust wasn’t going to change a thing.
“I inhale peace,” Crystal said as she sucked in a noseful of air.
“Inhale peace?” Jeremy whispered.
Bernie repeated the mantra, then sucked in some air of her own, smelling not one iota of peace.
Crystal tilted her gaze toward the ceiling, her eyes drifting closed. “My pelvis is like a flower opening to the sun.”
“Pelvic flowers?” Jeremy murmured. “Good God Almighty. Now I’ve heard everything.”
“Will you knock it off?” Bernie whispered back.
“Bernie?” Crystal said. “Jeremy? Is there a problem?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “I was just wondering exactly how one inhales peace. And that pelvis thing—”
“Never mind,” Bernie said, digging her fingernails into his thigh. “I’ll explain it to him later.”
For the briefest of moments, Crystal’s mystically enhanced demeanor gave way to a cranky schoolmarm expression. It was probably her way of warning Jeremy that even though she inhaled peace, she didn’t mind exhaling a little kick-ass. Then she transported herself to the Land of Bliss once again.
“What’s very effective during the more difficult phases of childbirth,” she said, “is to distract yourself with positive mental images. Imagine yourself walking along a tropical beach with ocean waves lapping at your toes. Picture yourself in a beautiful country garden, picking a bouquet of roses…”
Uh-huh. And the whole time Bernie would be picking those roses, her entire lower body would feel as if somebody was smacking it with a sledgehammer.
“After the break, we’ll work on visualizations such as these in conjunction with our breathing exercises,” Crystal said. “So now we’ll talk about the various kinds of breathing for each stage of labor…”
As she rambled on, Bernie thought, Who knew there were other ways to breathe besides just in and out?
An excruciating hour and a half later they were leaving the class, armed with a couple of book recommendations and breathing homework. Max swung the car around to pick them up.
“You don’t seem to be clicking with our instructor,” Bernie said as they got into the car.
“What’s with her, anyway?” Jeremy said. “Shouldn’t she be in a cult somewhere drinking Kool-Aid, waiting for the mothership to return?”
“Hey, you said you wanted to come to these classes.”
“Yeah, but I thought they’d actually be practical. All that woo-woo stuff’s about to kill me. And I figured if I got bored, I could text somebody, or maybe check stock prices. But Attila the New Age Hun made me put my phone away.”
“You have the attention span of a gnat. Will you at least try to pay attention next time? If I don’t learn to breathe right, I have it on good authority that I’ll be in excruciating pain and scream my head off.”
“You know, women had babies long before anybody ever heard of childbirth classes,” Jeremy said. “They used to give birth on cave floors in subzero weather with a T-Rex growling outside, and not one of them sprouted pelvic flowers or inhaled peace. So why do we need all that affirmation crap?”
“We? Who the hell is ‘we’?”
“Hey, I’ll be right there to feel your pain. Or at least watch it.”
Max glanced into the rearview mirror. “What the hell are you two talking about?”
Jeremy shook his head sadly. “Believe me, Max. You don’t want to know.”
A few minutes later, Max pulled up outside Bernie’s apartment. Jeremy got out to walk her up the stairs.
“Okay,” Bernie said, as she unlocked her door and Jeremy escorted her inside. “Now you have an idea what the process is like. Are you still sure you want to be in the room when things go down?”
“No problem,” Jeremy said. “I’m not the one whose pelvic flower is going to be opening.”
“She makes it sound so easy, doesn’t she?”
“Yep. Gardening, giving birth… it’s all the same.”
Listening to Jeremy’s easy banter about her upcoming screamfest made Bernie feel as if she wasn’t in this alone, and a sense of contentment surrounded her like a warm blanket.
“Well,” he said. “I’d better go. I have a flight to catch early tomorrow morn—”
All at once, Bernie felt a strange flip-flop in her stomach. She gasped a little, steadying herself by putting a hand against the door frame. She thought for a moment something must be wrong, only to realize it was just the babies moving.
Just the babies moving. That was like saying a tsunami was just a big ocean wave.
Jeremy took her by the shoulders. “Bernie? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just the babies moving.”
“Moving what? A piano?”
“Sure seems like it. Here. Feel this.”
She grabbed Jeremy’s hand and placed it on her belly, and a moment later, it happened again—a big, undulating shift beneath her skin that actually made his hand move. Her doctor had told her that she’d feel quite a bit of movement, since she was having twins, but she sure hadn’t expected this.
“Whoa,” she whispered, laughing a little. “Are you believing that?”
Bernie expected him to make some smart comment about the movie Alien, suggesting that maybe the babies were actually creatures from outer space, or maybe tell her if she thought the kids were acting up now, wait until they were thirteen and started screaming and slamming doors.
He didn’t.
Instead, he continued to stare down at his hand where it rested against her, seemingly transfixed. He took a small step forward, easing so close Bernie swore she could feel the warmth of his body mingling with hers. Then he put his other hand on her. Spread his fingers. Waited for movement. When it finally came again, a tiny smile curled the corner of his mouth.
“My God,” he said breathlessly.
The next few seconds seemed to stretch into hours. Barely able to breathe, Bernie lifted her hands and placed them on top of his. The moment she touched him, he slowly turned his gaze up to meet hers. When their eyes locked, she flexed her fingers in a gentle caress. They stared at each other like that until the moment was so charged with emotion that she thought she’d die from the intensity of it. Was he looking at her like this because of the babies?
Or because of her?
He turned his hands over to grasp hers, giving them a gentle squeeze, his eyes fixed on hers with unrelenting intensity. She felt as if he was reading every thought she had, and those thoughts were growing hotter by the moment. She’d never felt desire like this in her life. Never ached for a man’s touch so badly she couldn’t breathe. It was as if every hot, sexy thought she’d ever had about him was coming to life.
He pulled one of her hands against his chest, where she felt his heart beating wildly. He smoothed his other hand along her upper arm to the curve of her shoulder, then tucked it beneath her hair at the back of her neck. When he brought his lips to within inches of hers, she could almost feel him quivering with self-restraint.
“I want you so much,” he whispered. “Please don’t tell me no.”
“Not a chance,” Bernie said.
“Thank God,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.