I placed a hand on her arm. “No, nothing needed yet. I haven’t decided if I’m having a drink and doing a whole ‘pump and dump’ situation tonight or sticking to water.”
“The things you never knew you’d need to consider, am I right?” Maggie said, raising her glass. “I’m grateful I have some time before I need to think about that again because this warm cider and salted-caramel whisky is delicious.”
Damn, that did sound good.
Maggie waved her beverage in a circle toward my face. “Are we addressing the clear aura you have going on that says your sex drought is over, or are we ignoring that tonight?”
“Jeez, Mags.” Emma shook her head.
“I’m just saying I’m glad to see it.”
I didn’t need a mirror to know my cheeks were now red, but I simply looked at Emma and Maggie and gave a slow nod.
Maggie motioned her hand in a tell-me-more gesture.
“She does not need to elaborate, Mags. Especially in the middle of this party.”
“Note, we are not in the middle but tucked over to the side, out of hearing range of everyone but ourselves,” Maggie said to Emma, then looked my way. “I mean, don’t share if you don’t want to, but last time we talked, this was long overdue. Feeling okay about everything?”
I glanced around, ensuring that Maggie was right and there was no one nearby. “Yeah, I’m feeling great.”
“What made the difference?”
“We finally talked, and Aidan reassured me about a lot of fears that I hadn’t even realized I was feeling.”
Maggie nodded sagely. “Communication—it is, sadly, all that it’s cracked up to be.”
“Yeah, I should have had the conversation so long ago.” I rubbed my hands on my jeans, filled with a bit of nervous energy. “I have no idea why I stopped confiding in him.”
“Because shit gets real when a baby comes into your home.” Maggie hopped up and started walking around the lounger, her hands moving as she spoke.
Emma leaned over. “Prepare yourself—this is one of her soapbox issues.”
Oh boy.
Maggie ignored both of us and gathered steam as she spoke. “I mean, we have these baby showers. People want to guess the candy bar in a diaper which, I mean, eww.” Her face was priceless with her nose wrinkled in disgust. “They give these parenting books out that talk about sleep training and attachment parenting versus other types of parenting. People talk about formula feeding, breastfeeding, cloth diapers, disposables. Food introduction is gone over in detail, as is childproofing your house. But riddle me this—why doesn’t anyone talk about the emotional roller coaster you go on as a mom after having a baby? Why aren’t there articles written on how your entire pelvic region is rearranged? Why doesn’t anyone talk about sex after pregnancy or how your vision of yourself changes, or how hard it is to just take a moment to breathe? Or possibly the benefits of seeing a pelvic floor therapist after baby? Hmm?” She stopped trying to wear a hole in the floor and turned to face us with her hands on her hips as she waited for our response.
Emma and I muttered in unison, “Patriarchy.”
Maggie threw up her hands. “Exactly.” With that, she plopped down beside us. “I’m sorry, Grace. I feel like I wasn’t up front with you about the journey into motherhood. I failed as a friend.”
“Add me to that list.”
I looked up to see Ivy moving to join us, a glass of ice water in her hand. Our bookstore-owning friend had a fashion style more out of the days of Woodstock than the current time period and was clearly ignoring any idea of standing outside that night. Her blond hair was down and loose with curls cascading over her shoulder to the red dress she wore. I loved it even if I didn’t think I could pull it off. I was a fan of the wrap dress because of the simplicity. Hers was a sheer dress with a plunging neckline that my current cup size would overwhelm. There was dark red embroidery in key locations all over, and judging by the look on Jake’s face as she slid next to me on the lounger, I’d say he was a fan.
I bumped her shoulder with my own. “Hey, lady, I haven’t seen you since your new babe arrived. How are you doing?” I worked closely with Ivy when we wanted to do author visits in town and the library and bookstore joined forces to foot the bill.
“We’re good, thanks. And thanks for sending dinner home last week with Jake.”
“I wish I could take credit for that, but Aidan made the chicken pasta for you all. I just made the brownies.”
“Grateful either way. But”—she looked at Mags and Emma, then back to me—“I couldn’t help but overhear Mags, which isn’t hard when she’s on a roll. I should have said something to you too, but it’s almost like you forget how hard it is the further away you get from it. I will say from zero kids to one was far harder than one to two if that helps any.”
“Really?” I gave Ivy an assessing glance. That seemed hard to believe. Then again, when she had Addie, she’d been a single mom. That alone made me feel incapable. Like, think how many single moms there were out there, killing it, and I’d spiraled when I had a husband to help.
“I see you,” she said, leaning back on an elbow on the mountain of pillows. “You’re judging yourself.”
“Again.” Maggie wagged an eyebrow at me.
