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That deep, gravelly voice scattered my thoughts again. “We’re blessed to live in an era of freedom and fluidity. Platonic daddies, romantic daddies—there’s no one-size-fits-all, no specific way to be, no certain ‘type’ for anyone.”
He narrowed his gaze at me with a laser-like intensity. “Now stop evading the question. Tell me when your first checkup is. I’m taking you.”
Half a dozen weeks had flown by since my sister’s nuptials. I’d done the research. Time was running out. The initial baby checkup should happen within the first twelve weeks—which gave me not much time before having to ’fess up about not being insured...and the clusterfuck of decisions I’d made. Again.
I kept putting off signing up during the enrollment period, always thinking I had more time.
My heart raced as I searched for the right words, gathering courage. I knew there was no avoiding this talk, and I steeled myself before speaking. “Okay, about that. Please don’t get mad.”
He inhaled, his chest rising and falling as he braced himself for the conversation at hand. His gaze softened as he said, “Listen to me. Good friends are honest, even when it’s tough. Share your feelings, don’t bottle them up. It just breeds resentment. Especially if something is bothering you.”
I felt my stomach untangling itself as his words washed over me like a calming wave.
“Okay, but this is a doozie. Don’t fly off the handle.” I barely lifted my tone above a whisper, “I haven’t set up an appointment with the doctor yet.”
Riley’s beauty stunned me into silence. Maybe it was odd to call a man ‘beautiful’. I’d never been so mesmerized by anyone’s features: riveting ocean eyes, dark brows, and a tattooed serpent that slithered at the slightest movement of his arm. His silver fox sophistication sent my heart racing. “Do you need help to find an obstetrician? Our crew has good community contacts. I can ask around.” His kindness touched me—medical providers were scarce in our rural community.
“Riley, you’re not picking up what I’m laying down. I don’t have a doctor because I don’t have insurance. I forgot to sign up during open enrollment. Don’t worry, I read that the first perinatal appointment should be scheduled before twelve weeks, and I’m still within that window.”
It was tough putting a positive spin on the thing that had been worrying me for weeks. Turning twenty-seven came with a sobering realization. I was no longer part of my parent’s health plan.
Self-employed people know that health costs can break profits, and the uninsured face ruinous medical bills. I’d let my symptoms run my life—endangering myself and my baby.
My entire body tensed as a sharp twist of dread seized my gut. I took a deep breath and tried to remain calm, but my heart raced, and I felt dizzy.
I squeezed my eyes tight, waiting for him to hit the roof.
I dared a peek out of one eye, and Riley furrowed his brow and curled his lips inward, as if tasting something bitter on his tongue. His eyes darted around the room as he mulled over what I said, rapid-fire.
Oh shit. This was it. The moment he gave up on me. He’d seen through my facade and discovered I was more trouble than I was worth.
The sound of his voice was a dark, resonant purr. “Keep your pretty little butt put. Don’t go anywhere.”
I thanked my lucky stars for the protective barrier of the screen. My tendency to procrastinate, dodge responsibilities, and procrastinate swooped in like a giant flock of chickens, landing right on my doorstep, coming to roost on my soon-to-be-sore ass instead of a coop.
The video chat window faded to black, and the last of his words reverberated in my earbuds. I stayed there for a heartbeat as the finality settled in—I was utterly alone.
I’d worry about that later.
I yearned for slumber, but Sloth refused to rest. I imagined tiny claws digging into my ribs right above my heart and his heavy breathing kept me awake. “Settle down, little dude. Did you expect him to actually finish telling you a bedtime story? You can’t hope he’ll do that every night, you know.”
I was just drifting off into a light sleep when the insistent ring of the doorbell jarred me. I threw on my favorite slippers, a gift from Clover, and hopped down the hallway. My steps made my slippers’ feathery orange adornment wave jauntily, making it appear as if the wild and frenzied Muppet drummer, whose face adorned each toe, was actually alive.
I squinted from the sudden brightness of the hall lights and the doorbell rang again.
WTF?
Who dared come over at this hour? I shot an eyebrow towards the kitchen clock. It was only seven o’clock. My bedtime kept creeping earlier.
I barked at the intruder, “Wait!” before rushing to the bathroom to freshen up. They could just deal with it. Whoever was knocking had no appreciation for precious sleep, so they could wait outside.
I hopped to the entrance in my leopard print jammies with pink piping and looked through the peephole Riley had insisted on installing for me. No one was there.
“Great. Just great. Wake me up for no reason, why don’t you?” I muttered.
I flung the door open and scanned the area for any clues. My pulse sped up, gripped by anticipation of the unknown culprit that had disrupted my peace. Only instead of doorbell ditchers, a big, dangerous man whose massive muscles I could recite like Luna did lines from her gothic romances, knelt on my doorstep. A bouquet three times the size of his head under one arm, and something shiny resting on his palm.
My jaw dropped and eyes widened as I tried to process what was happening. “What’s going on here?”
