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My eyes roll on their own. “Puh-lease. As if you wouldn’t do the same for me. That’s what we do. We’re partners, and always will be.”
The reminder sparks a not-so-distant memory of how we used to sit in this very spot planning routines. We’d spend hours collaborating before introducing the steps to our students. Lately, most of the work falls on me while Joy waits for her little one to arrive. The arrangement gives me full control, but it’s lonely. I miss bouncing ideas off my best friend.
Barre Twirl began as a dream between two college freshmen. It felt like fate when a space became available in our hometown. Our business sprouted, grew, and blossomed in the years since graduation. I believe the best is yet to come.
“Just don’t get too comfortable running the show without me,” she says.
“You’re still present.”
“Not where I want to be.” Joy pouts in the direction of her ankles that are no doubt swollen.
“There’s no better excuse for taking a desk job. Besides, you make a wonderful receptionist.”
Her lips purse to one side. “Let’s be honest, pregnancy brain makes me forgetful at best.”
“Nobody’s sent any formal complaints. They must appreciate your efforts behind the scenes.”
She nods, but there’s a frown holding her smile hostage. “I miss teaching the kiddos.”
My heart clenches on her behalf. “Don’t fret, babes. You’ll be back on your twinkle toes soon enough. Until then, Ginger is more than willing to assist when needed.”
Joy’s lips curve upward. “I think you went into the wrong field. Look into becoming a motivational coach. Just imagine setting up a booth to offer pep talks. You’re top-notch.”
“Could be a decent side hustle. But only for women who are about to give birth, yet are more concerned about their job rather than what’s about to happen to their vagina.” I lean forward to stage whisper, “It’s gonna be messy.”
She snorts, which morphs into a throaty cackle. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re welcome. Take the hint, yeah?”
Joy shudders. “I prefer not to think about being torn to shreds.”
“Can’t say I blame you. It’s going to be just fine, though. You’re a trooper. Always have been.”
“There you go again,” she chirps.
“Moral support.” I dust off my shoulders. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”
“Like I ate a school bus packed with toddlers on a sugar craze.” She gives her stomach another loving pat.
“That’s…oddly specific.”
“Seems appropriate under my current circumstances.”
“Well, you don’t have much longer to wait.” I prop my elbows on the table and tap my fingers together in a giddy motion.
“Two weeks if she’s precise. Even sooner if she’s eager and cooperates. I’m not willing to entertain the idea that she’ll be tardy to the party.”
I hum in agreement. “As you shouldn’t. That little cupcake won’t keep us waiting.”
“Fingers crossed. Our doctor said it could be anytime now. I’m already dilated one centimeter and eighty percent effaced. But that doesn’t mean much yet. Those measurements can stay stagnant until contractions begin, as we learned from Bossy Barb.” She winks while mentioning the strict instructor.
Since Joy’s baby’s daddy was nowhere to be found for the first six months of her pregnancy—by no fault of his own—I attended the classes with her. Cole studied his butt off to make up for his absence. He might be better prepared than Joy at this point.
I squeak, adding a silent clap for extra enthusiasm. “Oh my gosh, it’s almost time! This is so exciting. How’s your stocking stuffer handling the countdown?”
She grins at her fiancé’s nickname. “He gives an excellent foot massage.”
“Hard and fast or slow and gentle, depending on your mood?”
