Chapter 19: The Prenatal Class
The community center smelled of lemon polish and rubber mats, a combination Julian found almost offensive in its cheerfulness. He swept through the double doors with Theo half a step behind, one hand pressed to the small of his back in that infuriatingly attentive way that made Julian want to snap at him and melt into him in the same breath.
"Julian Cross," he announced to the startled instructor, a mousy beta woman clutching a clipboard. "I called ahead. Private consultation."
The room held perhaps a dozen expectant couples, all of whom turned to stare. Julian ignored them with practiced ease, his gaze fixed on the instructor's name tag. Brenda. Of course it was Brenda.
"Mr. Cross, yes, we have you on the list for the full class," Brenda said, her voice chirping with forced brightness. "We were just about to begin breathing techniques. If you'd like to find a mat—"
"I've read the curriculum," Julian cut in. "Your breathing method is outdated. The exhale count should be six, not four. Shortening the exhale to four increases carbon dioxide retention, which will only compound the anxiety of a contraction. My doctor confirmed this."
A ripple of murmurs went through the class. Brenda's smile tightened at the edges.
"The technique we use here has been vetted by—"
"I'm sure it has," Julian said, already lowering himself onto the nearest mat with a grunt. His belly made the motion awkward, and Theo's hand shot out to steady him. Julian batted it away. "I'm not fragile. I'm correcting your pedagogy."
Theo settled beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Julian felt the warmth of him, the steady alpha presence that still made his pulse quicken even after months. He refused to show it.
"Six counts on the exhale," Theo said, his voice soft and accommodating, offering a gentle smile to the instructor. "We'll practice at six."
Brenda nodded tightly and resumed her class, though her voice had lost its confidence. Julian watched her with the satisfaction of a man who had just won a boardroom argument, his chin lifted, his hand resting on the curve of his belly.
Then the contraction hit.
There was no warning. One moment he was cataloging Brenda's flaws, the next his body seized as if a steel band had wrapped around his middle and begun to tighten. His breath caught in his throat, and his hand found Theo's before he could think, gripping with a force that would have bruised.
"Julian." Theo's voice came from very far away, then very close. "Breathe with me. Six counts in. Hold. Six counts out."
"I can't—" Julian's voice came out thready, unrecognizable. The pain rolled through him in waves, and for the first time he understood that all his diagrams and research and carefully rehearsed techniques meant nothing against the sheer, terrifying reality of a body that no longer obeyed his commands.
"Look at me." Theo's hand cupped his jaw, turning his face. Those hazel eyes were steady, golden with quiet strength. "Follow me. In. One, two, three, four, five, six."
Julian's breath shuddered in. He held it, his eyes locked on Theo's.
"Out. One, two, three, four, five, six."
The band around his belly loosened. Not all at once, but enough that he could breathe again, enough that the room swam back into focus. He realized he was gripping Theo's hand with both of his, his knuckles white, his nails digging into Theo's palm.
"Good," Theo murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You did so good."
The class was watching. Brenda was frozen in place, her clipboard clutched to her chest. Julian should have cared. He should have reasserted his authority, made some cutting remark about the inadequacy of the class's methods. But his heart was pounding and his hands were shaking and the fear was still there, crouched beneath his ribs like something wild.
"I'm terrified," he said, the words scraping out of him before he could stop them. "I'm terrified of losing control. Of not being able to breathe through it. Of—" He swallowed. "Of failing."
Theo's thumb stroked over his knuckles. "You won't fail."
"You don't know that."
"I know you." Theo's voice was low and fierce. "I've watched you face down boardrooms and contractors and a pup who refuses to flip. You don't fail, Julian. You pivot. You adapt. You command. And when you can't command, I'll be right here, breathing with you until you can again."
Julian's eyes burned. He blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall. Around them, the other couples had gone quiet, their own breathing exercises abandoned.
"Six counts," Julian managed, his voice rough. "You'll count for me."
"Every single one," Theo promised.
The silence stretched, thick and expectant, until Brenda cleared her throat. She took a step forward, her clipboard lowered, her earlier chirpiness replaced by something quieter, more measured.
"Mr. Cross," she said, and Julian braced himself for a dismissal, for the cutting remark that would remind him he was just another difficult expectant parent she had to tolerate. Instead, she said, "I have a private session slot Thursday evenings. Seven o'clock. Just you and your partner. We can focus on the breathing techniques you prefer, and I can show you some positioning work that might encourage your pup to turn."
Julian blinked. "You're offering me a private class."
"After that contraction?" Brenda's mouth curved into a dry smile. "You need more than a group setting. And honestly, you'd probably correct my form for the entire hour anyway. Might as well give you the floor."
Theo laughed, a warm, surprised sound that made Julian's chest tighten. "That's very generous of you, Brenda. Thank you."
"Generous," Julian repeated, hearing how small his own voice sounded. He hated it. He straightened his shoulders, summoning the armor of his CEO persona, but Theo's hand was still wrapped around his, grounding him. "I don't require charity."
"It's not charity," Brenda said simply. "It's good practice. I've had a few clients like you. The ones who show up with research and a plan and think they can outsmart their own bodies." Her gaze softened. "The ones who need to learn that their bodies aren't the enemy. They're the partner in this, not the adversary."
Julian's throat worked. The fear was still there, crouched and waiting, but something else flickered alongside it. Something that felt dangerously close to relief.
"Thursday at seven," he said, his voice steadier now. "We'll be there."
Brenda nodded, making a note on her clipboard. "I'll have a private room set up. Bring your own mat if you prefer. And Mr. Cross?"
Julian looked up.
"That was good," she said quietly. "What you did just now. Admitting you're scared. Most people spend the whole class pretending they're not."
Julian opened his mouth to argue, to deflect, but Theo squeezed his hand and the words died in his throat. He settled for a curt nod, his jaw tight, and watched Brenda return to the front of the room.
"Thursday," Theo murmured, close to his ear, his breath warm on Julian's skin. "I'll clear my schedule."
"You're always clearing your schedule for me," Julian said, but there was no bite in it. He turned his hand over, lacing his fingers through Theo's, feeling the steady pulse of his alpha's heartbeat against his palm.
"I'll always be clearing my schedule for you," Theo said, and kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and unhurried, as if they were the only two people in the room.
The warmth of Theo's kiss lingered on Julian's mouth, a soft counterpoint to the trembling still working its way through his hands. He was about to pull back, to reclaim his composure and make some remark about the class's inadequate ventilation system, when a familiar voice cut through the murmuring.
"Julian Cross. Fancy seeing you here."
Julian's head snapped up. Elise stood in the doorway of the community center, a rolled yoga mat tucked under one arm, her soft face creased with a knowing smile. She wore a fitted black top and leggings, her dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she looked entirely unbothered by the dozen pairs of eyes that turned toward her.
"Elise," Julian said, his voice carefully neutral. "I didn't realize you taught here."
"I don't." She walked toward him, her footsteps unhurried on the rubber mats. "I teach a private session at the studio next door on Tuesday evenings. I was just leaving when I saw you through the window." Her gaze flicked to his belly, then to Theo's hand still laced through Julian's. "I also saw what just happened."
Julian's jaw tightened. "It was a Braxton Hicks contraction. Perfectly normal at this stage."
"It looked like more than that," Elise said, without judgment. She crouched down to Julian's level, her eyes steady and kind. "I've been teaching prenatal yoga for eight years. I know what a practice contraction looks like when it's edging toward the real thing." She paused. "And I know what fear looks like when it's wearing a suit of armor."
Theo made a small sound beside Julian, something between sympathy and agreement. Julian shot him a look that should have incinerated him on the spot, but Theo only squeezed his hand, his expression warm and unrepentant.
"I'm fine," Julian said flatly. "I have a private session booked with Brenda on Thursday. I don't need—"
"Brenda's good," Elise interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. "She knows her breathing techniques, and she'll teach you positioning that might help that stubborn pup of yours turn." She tilted her head, considering. "But she doesn't know your body like I do. I've watched you move through two yoga sessions. I know how you hold tension in your hips, and I know how you fight against your own breath when you're scared."
Julian's throat tightened. He hated being seen like this, laid bare in front of a room of strangers by a beta who had no business reading him so easily. And yet, there was something in her steady gaze that made him want to listen.
"What are you offering?" he asked, his voice clipped.
"A private session. Tomorrow afternoon, if you're free. We'll focus on hip openers, on breathing through the kind of pain you just felt, and on some techniques that might coax your pup into a better position." Elise smiled, soft and a little wry. "And I'll let you correct my form all you want. I've got thick skin."
Before Julian could answer, Theo spoke up, his voice carrying the eager, golden-retriever energy that Julian both adored and found deeply embarrassing. "That sounds wonderful, Elise. Thank you. We'd love to—"
"We'll discuss it," Julian cut in, but even as the words left his mouth, he felt the tension in his shoulders ease. Theo's thumb traced a slow circle over his knuckles, and Elise's smile grew knowing.
"I'll text you the details," Elise said, rising to her feet. She paused, her gaze dropping to Julian's belly. "He's going to be beautiful, your pup. Stubborn, but beautiful. I can already tell."
For a long moment, Julian couldn't speak. The fear was still there, crouched beneath his ribs, but Elise's words had loosened something in his chest. He thought of his pup, of the small foot he'd felt pressing against Theo's hand that morning, of all the plans he'd made and all the control he'd tried so desperately to hold.
"He's his father's child," Julian said quietly. "The stubborn part."
Elise laughed, a warm, easy sound. "Then I'll see you tomorrow." She nodded to Theo, turned, and walked out the door, her mat swinging at her side.
The room had resumed its quiet buzz of activity, other couples returning to their breathing exercises with renewed focus. Julian stayed where he was, his hand still in Theo's, his heart still pounding a little too fast.
"Tomorrow," Theo said softly. "I'll be with you the whole time."
Julian let out a breath, long and slow. "You're always with me," he said, and this time there was no bite in it, only wonder. "I don't know what I did to deserve—"
He stopped, unable to finish. Theo's hand came up to cup his jaw, turning his face until their eyes met.
"Everything," Theo said. "You did everything."
Julian's breath caught, the word lodging somewhere in his chest like a stone he couldn't swallow. He opened his mouth to argue, to deflect with something sharp and cutting, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he leaned into Theo's touch, letting himself be held for a long, precarious moment.
"We should go," Julian said finally, his voice rough. "Before I correct Brenda's posture demonstration and get us banned."
Theo laughed, the sound warm and low. "You did already correct her breathing technique."
"Pedagogy, Theo. There's a difference."
"Of course there is." Theo helped him to his feet, one hand braced beneath Julian's elbow, the other pressed against the small of his back. Julian's belly swayed heavy and full in front of him, and for a moment he felt impossibly large, impossibly vulnerable. He steadied himself against Theo's solid warmth until the world stopped tilting.
The class watched them leave. Julian felt their eyes on his back like a physical weight, but he didn't care. Not about them. Not about Brenda's carefully measured smiles or the murmuring that would follow him out the door.
He cared about Theo's hand on his spine, steady and sure. He cared about the promise of Thursday, and of tomorrow, and of every breath Theo would count for him until the pup clawed its way into the world.
Outside, the evening air was cool against his flushed skin. The parking lot was nearly empty, the streetlights casting pools of amber light across the asphalt. Theo guided him toward the car, his steps unhurried, matching Julian's slower pace.
"Elise is good," Theo said quietly. "I trust her."
"You trust everyone."
"I trust you more." Theo opened the passenger door, but paused, his hand on the frame. "Julian. What you said in there. About being terrified."
Julian's shoulders stiffened. "I shouldn't have said it. It was unprofessional—"
"It was real." Theo's hazel eyes caught the light, golden and earnest. "You've spent months building a wall around every fear you have. And in there, in front of all those strangers, you let it fall." He stepped closer, close enough that Julian could feel the warmth radiating off his broad chest. "Do you have any idea how much I love you for that?"
Julian's throat worked. The fear was still there, crouched and waiting, but it felt smaller now, less sharp. "I'm still terrified," he admitted, the words barely a whisper.
"I know." Theo kissed his forehead, soft and lingering. "And I'm still going to catch you every time you fall."
Julian let out a shaky breath. He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Theo that he didn't need catching, that he'd never needed anyone. But the memory of that contraction was still fresh in his body, the helplessness of it, the way his control had shattered like glass.
"Get in the car," Julian said instead, his voice steady. "I want to go home."
Theo smiled, soft and knowing, and helped him into the seat. As he rounded the hood, Julian let his hand rest on the curve of his belly, feeling the pup shift beneath his palm.
Tomorrow, he would learn to breathe again. Tomorrow, he would face his fear in a quiet room with an instructor who saw through him.
Tonight, he would let Theo hold him, and for the first time in months, he would let himself be small.