Scoring the Billionaire(20)

"Right now, it looks that way to me too."





"You need a fucking doula, Cass," Georgia repeated for the fourth time  since we'd sat down for lunch at a bistro not too far from the  Mavericks' stadium.

Every table that lined the exposed brick wall was filled with couples  and families and people taking a midday break from work, but in our  party, I was the only one who hadn't taken the entire day.

Georgia claimed to be working from home, and Cassie made her own  schedule. But Dean had flown the Brooks Media coop and trekked all the  way from Manhattan just for this lunch date in New Jersey. Apparently,  he was filing it as an expense, citing sanity and happiness in the  workplace.         

     



 

I'd questioned if he thought that was a good idea, but he'd pretty much  waved it off. "Kline Brooks isn't going to say jack shit about a day  date with his wife," he'd said. I wasn't quite so sure, but I wasn't an  expert by any means.

"For fluffernutter sake's, Wheorgie!" Cassie screeched and slammed her  palms down onto the table, a wild woman finally pushed over the edge. It  took quick hands and reflexes on everyone's part to prevent our water  glasses from tipping over, but other than that, none of us batted an  eye.

This had become the norm: Georgia constantly worrying about Cassie and  the baby and fixating her neuroses on anything and everything  pregnancy-related. I was concerned for everyone's well-being when  Georgia and Kline decided to start a family.

Seriously.

With the way she acted toward Cass's pregnancy, you'd think Cass was actually her surrogate.

"I honestly don't think Cass needs a doula," I offered in hopes I could  play Switzerland and stop a full-on catfight from breaking out. "She's  planning on having the baby in the hospital and-"

But Cassie had other plans, chiming in before I could finish my attempt to keep the peace.

"And I'm getting all the fudging drugs they will allow me to have. All  of them. I want them to numb me from the neck down. I have no desire to  feel this child shoot out of my vagina. I mean, have you seen the size  of my husband? He's huge. And I'm not just talking about his giant  schlong. I mean, big hands, big feet, big fluffing head." She pointed to  her belly as evidence. "Look at me! No one should be this big at  twenty-some-odd weeks pregnant with their first baby. If the size of my  belly is any indication, the fudging doctor is going to need bridge  cables to suture up the hole."

Dean and I couldn't not laugh at that, but Georgia stayed steadfast in her doula views.

"A doula can still help you even if you get an epidural." She pleaded  her case. "They'll just be there to guide you through the rough parts,  before you're able to get an epidural."

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.