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“What?”
“Why doesn’t he just move in?” Eric asks
“He said it… ” Nikki blurts out, “… not me.”
“Because we haven’t spoken about anything.”
Eric sighs heavily with exaggeration. “Why not?”
“Why not? Because we just had a baby.”
“That was four weeks ago.”
“Yeah, and having a baby isn’t easy,” I inform him, annoyed he thinks I’m sitting around here doing nothing. “It’s exhausting.”
“Eric, give her a break,” Nikki chastises. “Besides, once the hormones get a hold of you, good luck.”
“What hormones?” I ask, pretending I have no clue what she’s talking about.
Nikki laughs. “The ones which make you think about dick twenty-four-seven.”
“She said it…” Eric blurts out this time, “… not me.”
I intake a deep breath, not wanting to delve into this topic since every time I bring it up in my head, I end up at a dead end. Still horny, of course.
“I have an idea,” Nikki begins, then continues, “it’s your birthday. How about Eric and I stay here for a few hours to take care of Emmy? Why don’t you put something nice on and go to the office to open all your fabulous gifts? You’ve got extra milk stored in the fridge?”
“Yes, I pumped only an hour ago. I have about a weeks’ worth of milk stored in the fridge.”
“Great,” Nikki announces with an overbearing grin. “I’m sure a small break won’t hurt you.”
“I could,” I admit, then smile slowly. “But I’ll only be gone for a few short hours. I don’t know how I feel about leaving her.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Eric sings with an over-joyed expression. “Let’s go find you a fabulous birthday outfit.”
Eric’s mission in life is to make everyone look fabulous. So he picks out a sweetheart neck Dolce & Gabbana dress hanging in my closet, which surprisingly fits. Aside from one massive problem, and when I say massive, I mean my breasts.
They are really popping out.
“Oh, honey, that rack of yours. I’d come in my pants if I were a straight man.”
“Ew,” I say with a scowl. “Great for motorboating if I had someone to drive the boat.”
Eric bursts out into laughter. “Oh, child, I’ve taught you well.”
As difficult as it is to say goodbye, I leave my apartment, though I contemplate going back inside the elevator and upstairs when the overwhelm hits, and it feels wrong to leave Emmy.
However, when I exit the building, into the beautiful fresh air and sound of the city, a sigh of relief washes over me.
Freedom.
I take a cab to my office, and upon entering the building again, it feels like a breath of fresh air. My heels click against the marble floor, a simple sound that instills confidence in me—something I’ve battled with my entire pregnancy.
When I reach my floor, my team is standing in the foyer to then yell, “Happy Birthday!”
There are plenty of hugs and presents given. A table sits in the middle with food plus a giant birthday cake. Champagne is handed out, and I quickly google if I’m allowed to drink. One glass is supposed to be okay if I wait two hours to feed. I also read up on pumping and dumping, though the information is conflicted. I decide maybe half a glass is safer, plus a pump and dump just to be sure.
Eric isn’t wrong in his description of the gifts. Every company I’ve ever worked with has sent me a gift—plenty of designer names. I quickly ask my marketing team to organize photos and thank you cards to make sure we credit and give thanks where due.
