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I place the pregnancy test on her table. “Were you going to tell me?”
Her eyes wander to the stick, and almost instantly, her face drops into disappointment.
“I was trying to process.”
Moving behind her table, I beg her to stand so I can wrap my arms around her. I bury my head into her neck, smelling her intoxicating skin. Knowing that over the next eight months or so, I will get to watch her beautiful body change from carrying our baby, makes my heart sing like fucking crazy.
She pulls away, her body stiff as she straightens her posture.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m trying to finish this presentation for tomorrow.”
I’m surprised by her lack of joy but quickly remember the hormonal thing and decide to back off from my usual assumptions.
Let her go through the emotions.
Tomorrow she’ll be wanting to go stroller shopping and buying an entire store of baby clothes.
“Okay, I understand. But are you happy? I want to be there every step of the way this time.”
“Um... yeah,” she mumbles, distracted by an email on her screen. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be happy?”
I bring her hand to my lips, kissing it gently. “Okay, Mrs. Workaholic. I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing. How about lunch?”
She purses her lips, a small smile following. “I’m really busy.”
I raise my hands in the air, calling defeat. “Okay, okay, but tonight, you’re all mine.”
We both agree not to mention anything to anyone until the twelve-week mark, especially to Masen since he has a big fucking mouth. However, on the way home, I did tell Lex, knowing he will keep the information confidential.
“Congrats, this is where all the fun begins again,” he teases over the phone.
“I know,” I tell him. “It’s just Presley’s been acting off.”
“It’s that hormonal thing,” Lex reminds me. “One minute they’re up, the next they’re crying over some stupid fabric softener commercial.”
“Right, I guess I wasn’t around the first time, so I missed a lot of that.”
It wasn’t my choice exactly to be away fr
om Presley during her pregnancy with Masen. Life back then was entirely different.
However, this time I want to be there every step of the way, already feeling a loss by not being there when she took the test, but now isn’t the time to tell her that. I didn’t want to rock the hormonal boat.
“Trust me, I’ve done this three times. Just go with the flow. Embrace the mood swings and be prepared to wake up at three in the morning on the hunt for butter pecan ice cream and Cheetos.”
Lex has a point. I need to man the fuck up, not sweat the small stuff because Presley has the hardest job of all.
“As long as I don’t have to push anything out, I’m good to do whatever.”
Nine
Haden
We sit in the waiting room surrounded by several patients.
A good majority of these patients are women at different stages of their pregnancies, some with smaller bumps to many who appear ready to pop. A few appear agitated, annoyed at their significant other and fanning themselves, complaining about the heat.
