Page 70 of Marrying My Ex's Boss

Hey, I thought you said you don’t stay around for the sexy time.

‘This bitch.’

JUSTINE

“What’s this?”

“Your birthing palace.”

“My what?”

“It’s where you’ll give birth.”

“Aren’t I going to the hospital for that?”

Once again, I have no idea what the hell is going on.

The man turned a room I had never seen in another wing of the house into some sort of…I don’t know what to call it. It’s gorgeous, that’s all I can say. The walls are pink marble, there’s nothing but luxury wherever I look, and this does not strike me as a place where guts and gore should be displayed.

The room was bigger than the bedroom in our master suite, and that’s saying a lot. There was a pedestal tub on a marble platform, bathrobes, towels, a bed, a birthing bed, and who knows what else. It also looked like he’d brought half the garden inside.

There were incense burning censers and some other crap that I’d never seen and didn’t know what they were for. Outside of that area was a sitting area where I guess he would be waiting. It looked like something Cleopatra would’ve liked, with banquets and gold mirrors on the walls.

"Where did you come up with this idea?”

“It’s an old Asian custom. The women in the royal family had a special birthing room in the palace; I kinda like that idea.”

‘As long as there’s epidural in this bitch, otherwise, I’m out.’

Not now, Justice.

‘Humph.’

“What’s Justice saying? He doesn’t like it?”

“He’s just wondering if there will be the usual hospital amenities available.”

‘You know, like a fucking doctor and some drugs, you crazy bastard.

Justice hush.

“Of course, your doctor, a midwife, a doula, and two qualified nurses.”

I’m almost afraid to ask any more questions because the crazy is strong with this one. I thought the last few months of bed rest were hell, oh no. The doctor made the mistake of telling him the babies had dropped into position, and all hell broke loose.

Monique threatened to quit at least twice a day, and I think the rest of the staff found my hidey-hole. His grandmother is the only one who seems able to calm him down. I don’t think he’s slept in three days and I’m afraid to get down off the bed to go pee because he has a fit if I do anything else.

Four children, my ass, this is it. I can’t do this again. I’ll go nuts from boredom.

‘I hear that sister. Thank heaven this isn’t going the whole ten months of I’d shoot myself.’

Why are you complaining? He’s not doing it to you.

‘Bless your heart. I see those people running around in your stomach, done sucked what little sense you had clean out your head.’

I can’t deal with both of you at the same time, okay?

“Do you like it?”

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