Page 7

Indi

T hat week, it was my first birthing class at the community center.

I was stretching and bouncing lightly on my birthing ball when Ambrose, Astrid, and his mother Millicent walked in.

Giving me a death rattle glare, she and Astrid air-kissed and my former mother-in-law went to sit down behind them.

Of course they would be close. Millicent and Astrid were two sides of the same coin—both with that tall, arrogant gait, both looking like everyone else was shit under their fancy shoes.

Millicent was in her mid-70s with an impeccable white updo and gimlet gray eyes. I absolutely loathed her.

“Oh, how sweet,” the birthing instructor said, gesturing at Astrid and I. “It looks like you’re due at the same time. And you live next door to each other? I bet your babies will be best friends!”

She began to demonstrate the breathing exercises we could use during labor as Astrid glared at me.

“Finn not here?” she asked me snottily as Ambrose carefully arranged his mother’s purse, parasol, and small violent dog beside her. “I guess some women just can’t keep a man.”

“He had something to do this afternoon,” I replied politely, turning aside to concentrate on my breathing.

Pant-pant-blow

Pant-pant-blow

I am a vessel of love and peace

“Indigo! Indi!” Ambrose hissed, replacing Astrid on the birthing ball beside me as she went to get a drink of water.

“Go away,” I hissed back. “You’re being a real weirdo, Ambrose.”

“I need to talk to you,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“You’re pissing off your mother,” I retorted, feeling her death ray stare on me.

“Indi, please—you don’t realize how you’re torturing me.”

“Because I’m with a younger man now? Get a hold of yourself!”

I stood up and took my birthing ball to the far corner of the classroom.

I did not want to hear whatever bullshit Ambrose had to say.

Pant-pant-blow

Pant-pant-blow

I am a vessel of love and peace

When the class was over, I didn’t wait around, but grabbed my bag and was the first one outside in the parking lot.

It was empty except for Ambrose’s dad and me.

My former father-in-law Harold was a thin, nervous man, his balding head covered with a stupendous toupee because my mother-in-law insisted he not be seen in public without one.

Before he retired, he had been a successful CEO of a model train company, but in private life he was dominated by my giant eldritch horror of a mother-in-law.

“How are you doing, my dear?” Harold asked, bounding over to clasp my hand affectionately.

“I’m doing well,” I said, giving him a quick hug.

He had always been literally the only good and kind member of Ambrose’s family.

His little spectacles quivered in time with his tiny mustache, while his pale blue eyes glinted with unshed tears.

“I’m so happy to see you thriving.”

“Not allowed inside?” I asked sympathetically and he sighed gustily.

“Millicent said I was to stay outside and make sure no uncouth person touched our Rolls-Royce.”

I didn't have a chance to say anything else before Astrid stalked over.

“Finn will get bored of you,” she hissed as Harold darted over to accompany Millicent to their car. “He’s congenitally incapable of staying interested in one woman, especially one who does not stimulate him intellectually.”

I am a vessel of love and peace I reminded myself, but apparently peace was going to mean making sure Astrid didn't fuck with me any more.

“I didn’t hear him complaining about needing intellectual stimulation when he had his head between my thighs this morning,” I retorted.

She gasped, and to my surprise, she began to whimper.

“Just—please don’t have sex with him,” she begged. “I’ll introduce you to anyone else you want, I promise. Just—not Finn! Please please please please please not my ex. I can’t bear to see it.”

“Are you trying to keep him as backup?” I asked, stunned at her stupidity.

But just then, a shadow passed across the sun and I looked up in astonishment to see an enormous golden hot air balloon hovering above us.

What the hell

Then Finn’s head popped over the side and he swung himself over the rope ladder, descending from the balloon like an action star, giving Astrid and I a great view of his well-shaped ass in tight jeans as he climbed down. When he was halfway, he turned to me with that gleaming grin.

“Marry me, Indigo,” he called, holding out a little velvet box to me.

It was open, and even from halfway up the ladder I saw it sparkle with an obscenely huge diamond.

His eyes shone at me, and I opened my mouth to reply, when suddenly Ambrose darted in between us.