Ane Mylund Pedersen

“She can cry for five more seconds,” I decide. “We’re trying out that self-soothing thing anyway, remember?”

Her lips quiver with humor. “I thought you were against it.” She deepens her voice and gives it a drawl to mimic me. “‘I ain’t gonna let my princess suffer, darlin’. What kind of father does that?’”

My jaw drops in outrage. “I did not say ain’t.”

“You may as well have.”
― Elle Kennedy, The Goal

“We’re here to help ease you through the labor process. The mainstream media and health organizations feed you an endless supply of fear and paranoia, but the truth is that childbirth does not have to be a painful experience. Today we will start our journey to a joyful and pleasurable labor. These three classes will help you refocus your negative feelings, drawing in serenity and pushing out fear.”

“Are we in a breathing class or signing up for a cult?” Tucker whispers.

Cult. Definitely cult.

“Partners, helpers, move into position behind the mama.”

“I already hate this woman,” I hiss as he crouches behind me.

“Because she called you mama or because she says it’s not a painful experience?”

A man a few mats down raises his hand. “Where should we put our hands?”

“Great question, Mark.”

Oh God, she remembers all our names.

“During labor, the appropriate position will be the lower back, but for today, we’re concentrating on relaxation, so please place your hands on your partner’s shoulders.”

Next to me, one expectant mother is taking copious notes, as if Stacy in the peasant skirt is the oracle of laborhood, speaking the ten commandments of birthing.

“If she says, ‘There’s nothing to fear but fear itself,’ we’re out of here,” I say a little too loudly.

The gunner and her equally serious partner turn around to glare at me. A burble of laughter threatens to escape. Can we get arrested for disturbing the peace in a breathing class”
― Elle Kennedy, The Goal

“She’s so gorgeous. I can’t believe we made her,” he says quietly against my ear. “I’m buying a chastity belt.”

“I don’t think she needs one yet.”

“I’m thinking ahead.” He gently moves me aside to pluck the carrier out of the base.

I arch a brow. “I heard you once had a threesome.”

He nearly trips on a non-existent crack in the sidewalk. A light cough precedes his query, “A threesome? Who’d you hear that from?”

Ha! He doesn’t deny it. Amused, I brush by him to get the front door. “Carin heard it. Said it was always the quiet ones.”

“No threesomes for Jamie,” he declares. “Maybe we should homeschool her until she’s thirty.”

“We’re turning into hypocrites.”

Tucker nods enthusiastically. “Yup, and no guilt here.” Right before he ducks into the house, he murmurs, “By the way, it was a foursome.”

I gasp. “Two guys and two girls?”

He smirks. “Three girls and me.”

“Wow.” I’m more impressed than angry. “Good for you, stud.”
― Elle Kennedy, The Goal

“Mom’s going to love you,” I assure her. “You’ll see.”

*

Mom hates her.

Or at least, she’s doing a good job of hiding her love.”
― Elle Kennedy, The Goal