Redeeming 6: Boys of Tommen #4

AOIFE

“WELL, good news, your cervix is favorable,” the doctor said, tossing his gloves in the nearby bin. “The baby’s head is engaged. That bloody show you experienced this morning. That was your mucus plug. I wouldn’t be surprised if you delivered in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Twenty-four hours?” Mam exclaimed. “That soon? But she’s not due for another three weeks.”

“Only 5% of babies are delivered on their due date, and this baby is measuring on the larger side, which aligns with why she’s already two centimeters dilated,” he replied. “It could take several more days. Another week, even. Babies are unpredictable, but in my experience, your daughter is a prime candidate to deliver sooner rather than later.”

“Can you slow it down, doc?” Perched on the examination table, with my legs hanging open, and my dignity back in Ballylaggin, I pulled up on my elbows and pleaded with the man in green scrubs “I’m not due for another three weeks and my boyfriend doesn’t get back into town until Wednesday night.”

“Aoife,” Mam sighed. “It doesn’t work that way, pet.”

“Baby comes when baby is ready,” the doctor replied. “And I’m hedging towards baby being ready, Aoife.”

“Well, I don’t care what either of you say,” I grumbled, rolling off the examination table and adjusting my maxi-dress. “I’m not having the baby until Joe gets home.”

“Hey, waddles,” Casey called out, as she leaned against the side of my father’s van in the hospital carpark, basking in the warm summer’s afternoon. “How’s our baby coming along?”

“Don’t start,” I grumbled, heaving my over-sized inmate across the carpark. “It’s too damn hot and I’m suffering from a serious case of electric shocks to the fanny.”

“Lightning crotch,” Mam corrected, as she unlocked the van. “Please, love, I know you’re cranky, but try not to be so vulgar.”

“Lightning crotch.” Casey grinned. “Oooh, sounds kinky.”

“You know what’s not kinky, Case? Having a geriatric obstetrician ram his entire hand inside of your fan —”

“Aoife!”

“Vagina,” I amended with a huff.

“Are we talking an entire fist here?” my best friend asked, as she helped hoist me into the van.

“We’re talking an entire fist, arm, and elbow!”

“I hope he wore a glove.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Aoife,” Mam chuckled, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. “It was a standard internal, love, not calving season at old MacDonald’s farm. If you think that was bad, just you wait until you’re delivering. It’ll be carnage down there.”

“Old Macdonald’s farm,” Casey snorted. “Good one, Trish.”

“Wow,” I deadpanned. “I am so pleased that the impending demise of my vagina is so entertaining to you.”

“Well, that’ll teach you to let your boyfriend put his willy in there without protection.”

“Yes, Mother,” I drawled, tone laced with sarcasm. “I have indeed learned the error of my ways.”

“She’s already two centimeters dilated, Casey,” Mam said excitedly. “The doctor thinks she’ll have the baby by tomorrow.”

“Chill, Mam,” I cut in. “Nothing’s coming out of me until Joey comes home.”

“That’s not technically true,” Casey chimed in, pointing to damp circular stain on the front of my dress. “You’re leaking a little there, babe.”

“Oh, come on,” wailed, throwing my hands up in dismay. “What the hell is wrong with that boob?”

“We should buy you a bell chain and rename you Daisy.”

“Which one, love?”

“The left one,” I grumbled, reaching for a tissue to stuff into my bra. “The right one always behaves herself, but the left one is an embarrassing bitch.”

“Oh, come on,” Casey chuckled, patting my big belly. “Ignore the leaks and let’s go and get those swollen hooves a pedicure before baby daddy gets back.”

“Hm,” I grumbled, slightly mollified at the thought of seeing Joey again. “Do you think they have a hedge-trimmer at the beauticians?”

“Come on,” Casey coaxed. “Give us a smile. You’ve only been waiting for this all summer.”

She was right.

I had been waiting all summer.

Fifteen long weeks to be exact.

Joey was coming home.

Finally.

By Wednesday night, we would be together again.

“I’m nervous,” I heard myself admit aloud for the first time, even though the feeling had been eating away at me for weeks now.

“What?” both Casey and Mam asked in unison. “Why?”

“Because look at me, guys.” I gestured to my stomach. “I’m not exactly the Aoife he remembers.”

“Aoife, you’re about to have the boy’s baby,” Mam offered gently. “You are beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Fuck beautiful, babe, you are breathtaking to look at,” Casey chimed in supportively. “I don’t know anyone else on this planet who could pull off a nine-month baby bump and still look completely fuckable! He’s going to lose his shit when he sees you!”

“Casey,” Mam chastised. “Please, love, can we not?”

“Sorry, Trish, but it’s true,” my best friend replied. “Our girl here is a MILF!” Grinning wickedly, she added, “And when Joey the DILF gets home, there’s going to be explosions.”

“Oh, sweet mother of mercy,” Mam muttered, sounding pained.

“You have nothing to be insecure about, Aoif,” Casey added. “But just to top up that glass of self-esteem, we’re going to go all out on the pampering today, and it’ll be Daddy T’s treat.” She looked to my mam before asking, “You swiped the credit card before we left the house this morning, didn’t ya, Trish?”

“I sure did, girls.”

“Yay.” Clapping enthusiastically, my bestie draped her arm over my shoulder. “We’re about to do some damage.”