Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMMA
I clutched my oversized tote bag to my chest as Charlie and I stepped into the birthing class. The room was filled with soft mats, plush pillows, and an array of strange-looking props that I couldn’t begin to identify. The scent of lavender hung in the air, presumably to create a calm and inviting atmosphere.
It wasn’t working.
Not on me, at least.
One foot in that room and panic like I’d never known infused me. Something about the concept of practising to have the baby made it all the more real.
Not to mention the stress of waiting for the test results to confirm the baby’s health. The doctor had assured us that the tests were routine, but the anxiety gnawed at me constantly. I wanted to share my fears with Charlie, but he seemed so focused on being supportive, in the most clinical way possible, that I didn’t know how to broach the subject.
“You okay?” Charlie asked. “You look a little pale.”
His hand hovered near the small of my back. I could almost feel it. The ghost of his touch. But it rarely came these days.
When had his touch become so rare that even this near-contact sent a jolt through me? The warmth of his palm used to be a constant, reassuring presence. Now, it seemed he couldn’t bring himself to bridge that final inch.
I forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just... processing.”
In a few short months, I’d be responsible for a tiny human. Processing the reality that I was about to learn how to push said human out of my body. Processing the fact that ever since my baby bump had really popped, Charlie hadn’t touched…
Like I was nothing but a duty and it was the baby he really wanted.
Of course, I’d understood all of that before now. I just thought I had a handle on it.
These days it was hard for me not to fixate on what went wrong. The kiss we shared at the hockey game six weeks ago had been off the charts, but ever since he’d put a distance between us. He treated me more like a roommate than... whatever we were supposed to be.
It had occurred to me more than once that I could be imagining the whole thing. That maybe nothing had actually changed and I was the one making too much out of a situation.
But then he’d started going out of his way to avoid squeezing past me in the kitchen or shifting his hands on the car door to stop our hands touching as I got in. There were too many little things not to make something of it.
“Charlie?”
I turned at the vaguely familiar voice, my eyes landing on a petite pink-haired woman waddling towards us, her belly prominently displayed in a form-fitting maternity top. I recognised her instantly. Mona Martin. From Abi’s wedding. She hadn’t looked ready to pop back then, but not much else had changed. Shaun followed close behind her, his grin widening as he glanced from Charlie to me.
“Oh my god, what are you doing here?”
“Mona! Shaun!” Charlie’s hand dropped to his side. “What a surprise,” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual.
I glanced at him, surprised at the panic that flickered across his features before he schooled them into a friendly smile. His eyes darted between them and me.
Mona’s gaze shifted to me, her brow furrowing slightly. “And who’s this?”
Charlie cleared his throat and finally placed his hands on me. Granted, it was just my shoulder, but that touch burned through my dress. My traitorous nerve endings lit up, while my mind rebelled against the false intimacy. I fought to keep my expression neutral, but my heart leapt at the touch, even though it felt like a performance for our audience.
“Mona, you remember Emma? She was the wedding planner for Abi and Finn’s wedding.”
Recognition dawned on her face, quickly followed by shock. “Of course! It’s so good to see you again. What are you doing in LA?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Charlie beat me to it. “Emma’s staying with me for a while. We’re, uh, expecting.” He gestured vaguely towards my midsection.
“Oh.” Mona’s eyes widened, darting between Charlie and me. “Oh! Wow, that’s... congratulations!”
Shaun’s grin grew even wider. “No wonder you’ve been so scarce lately. You knocked up the wedding planner?” His shoulders shook. “Does Finn know?”
Charlie’s hand tensed on my shoulder, and I could practically hear the gears in his head grinding to a halt. “Uh, not yet. We haven’t really told anyone...”
I forced a smile, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “It’s all still new. We’re just... figuring things out.”
Figuring things out.
When would we move out of that phase? I’d grown tired of this limbo a while ago. Also how could this be new still? We’d been living together for weeks, sharing a home but not a life despite my subtle attempts to change that. I’d lost count of how many times he’d rejected or ignored my advances at this point. The distance between us seemed to grow with each passing day, as insurmountable as the swell of my belly.
Mona’s eyes lit up, and she clasped her hands together. “Oh, this is so exciting! We can be pregnancy buddies!” She reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me closer. “How far along are you? I’m six months, but I swear this little one’s trying to make me look like I’m carrying twins.”
“Twenty-two weeks.”
“That’s fantastic!” Her enthusiasm was overwhelming, especially given that we’d only met briefly at Abi’s wedding. “Oh, we have to get together for lunch sometime. Or even better. I know all the best prenatal yoga spots in LA. We could take a class together.”
Before I could respond, the instructor called for everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s get started!”
Saved by the bell.
“Find a comfortable spot on the mats, and we’ll begin with some breathing exercises.”
Charlie’s hand slid from my shoulder to the small of my back, guiding me towards an empty mat. The touch shocked me but simultaneously sent a shiver up my spine, and I tried to ignore the warmth that spread through me at his proximity.
It should have been comforting. Instead, it highlighted every moment he hadn’t touched me in the past weeks. I settled onto a mat and tried my hardest to shake off the negative energy. I had to stop obsessing over his actions. We were having a baby, what did it matter if he didn’t touch me, kiss me or really look at me anymore?
A tapping sensation started in my lower abdomen and I smiled, imagining little feet bouncing inside of me. The sensation, growing more pronounced with each passing week, never failed to amaze me.
“You okay?” Charlie whispered, his breath warm against my ear.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. He was so close, yet it felt like there was an ocean between us. How could I tell him that I wanted more than this platonic arrangement we’d agreed on? That every time he touched me, my skin caught fire with need?
I guessed the better question was: could I handle more rejection?
I’d never been the type to throw myself into romantic relationships without a thought. I’d grown up watching my aunt flit from one man to another, cycling through the highs of falling in love to the lows of heartbreak. Watching that, having her as a role model, I’d been extra careful vetting the men I dated. Didn’t do casual. No one night stands.
Until Charlie.
Maybe I should try dating apps for real. “Dads, I want you to sit behind your partners, legs on either side to support them. This position will help you both feel connected and allow you to provide physical support during labour.”
Shaun and the other expectant fathers in the room seamlessly moved into position, clearly having done this before. Charlie, however, hesitated.
“Uh, should I...?”
“I guess so.”
Charlie shuffled behind me, his movements awkward and unsure. “Is this okay?” he asked, his hands hovering near my waist.
“It’s fine,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. But my heart was racing. The stark contrast between Charlie’s uncertainty and the other fathers’ easy confidence stabbed at my insecurities. As he settled in behind me, his chest pressed against my back. It was torture being this close, knowing that for him, it was just part of the class.
The instructor began leading us through breathing exercises, but I couldn’t focus. All I could think about was his proximity, the way his hands rested lightly on my hips, the rise and fall of his chest against my back. Every inch of contact tingled and made my frustrating hormones sit up and take notice.
“Remember, moms,” the instructor said, “your partner is your rock during this process. Lean into them, both physically and emotionally.”
I wanted to laugh at the irony. How could I lean on Charlie when I was terrified that one wrong move would shatter this fragile co-parenting arrangement we’d built?
As the class progressed, we moved through various positions and exercises. Charlie was attentive, following the instructor’s directions to the letter. But there was a clinical precision to his touches. It was nothing like the loving caresses Shaun bestowed on Mona, or the tender looks the other couples shared.
Each carefully placed hand, each perfectly executed movement only served to remind me of what we lacked. Charlie’s attentiveness felt more like a well-rehearsed performance than genuine care. During a break, Mona waddled over to us, Shaun in tow. “Isn’t this class great? Shaun and I have been coming for weeks. It’s really helped us feel prepared.”
I nodded, forcing a smile. “It’s... informative.”
“Oh, you two are naturals,” Mona said, beaming at Charlie and me. “You look so in sync already.”
If only she knew. I glanced at Charlie, expecting to see discomfort or maybe amusement at Mona’s assumption. Instead, he was grinning, looking every bit the proud father-to-be.
“Thanks,” he said. “We’re just taking it one day at a time.”
As we moved into the next set of exercises, I couldn’t shake that pesky thread of inadequacy that had woven into my thoughts. Loving couples surrounded me and I felt like a fraud, pretending to be one half of a partnership that didn’t really exist.
As if the session couldn’t get any more humiliating, the instructor demonstrated a massage technique for easing lower back pain during labour. Charlie’s warm hands settled against my lower back and began to rub at a pretend ache.
I bit my cheek, holding back a groan of pleasure that would not be appropriate in a room full of strangers.
But my body’s reaction couldn’t overshadow the doubt — fear really — that we’d lost some sparkle in the last four weeks. Right around the time I started to really show. Only there had been something. A tension. A barely restrained need.
Now we were just… comfortable.
“Is the pressure okay?” Charlie asked, his fingers working out a knot in my muscles.
“It’s fine,” I said, hating how my voice caught.
Everything was fine. It had to be fine.
As the class wound down, the instructor had us practise different labour positions. In one, I was supposed to lean back against Charlie’s chest, his arms supporting me.
“Relax into your partner,” the instructor said. “Trust them to hold you up.”
I tried. I really did.
“Emma, you need to relax,” the instructor said gently, coming over to us. “Your body is rigid. Remember, your partner is here to support you.”
I don’t rely on other people. I’d always managed on my own, and this wouldn’t be any different.