Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Hunter
Thirteen weeks pregnant
M y two-week timeline turned out to be a bit idealistic, but a little more than three weeks after I made Michelle breakfast, I’m crossing the boundary line into DC.
“I still don’t understand why you got a U-Haul when you have like ten boxes, half of which are cooking supplies,” Spencer complains for the umpteenth time in our ten-hour trip that unexpectedly took two days from Holly Ridge. We planned to make the whole drive yesterday, but trouble with the first truck I rented delayed us.
“You know, you didn’t have to come with me.” I grit my teeth and throw up a prayer as I navigate another roundabout on our way to Michelle’s apartment.
“Spend two days of my two weeks off in a smelly truck and cheap hotel room with my favorite brother? I wouldn’t have missed it.”
I’d roll my eyes if I felt comfortable taking them off the road in front of me for even a second during the morning rush hour traffic, but after twenty-eight years, Spencer knows it’s implied.
We crawl forward and another light in front of us turns red, the traffic on the other side of the intersection stopping me from pulling through on the yellow. My grip on the steering wheel tightens and I check the clock for the fifteenth time in the last thirty minutes.
“Relax,” Spencer says for the fourteenth time in the same span. “We’re only a few minutes away. The appointment starts in thirty minutes. Hayden and Jax are already waiting outside the apartment. We’ll get the truck unloaded and returned while you’re at the doctor.”
The less-than-ideal rush hour arrival is so I can make it to Michelle’s second check-up. Spencer’s not wrong about the overkill on the truck size, but neither of us has a car that can pull a trailer. Dad and Margaret offered to lend us their mini-SUV, but something about a thirty-one-year-old using his parent’s car to move in with the woman he accidentally knocked up tasted sour, so here we are. They took the news of the pregnancy and my sudden move really well. Ninety percent of me knew they would, but the ten percent still stuck as the teenage screw up worried this would be the final straw that caused them to give up on me.
“Hunt, dude. Green light.” Spencer points at the traffic light.
I pull the truck through, passing the delivery truck with his flashers on causing the bulk of the back up on this street and we start moving at a normal pace. Moments later, we’re pulling up in front of Michelle’s apartment and into the parking space she reserved for us through the city.
As Spencer promised, Hayden and Jax are standing in the shade created by the buildings this time of day. My heart rate picks up when I spot the red-haired figure completing their triangle. Michelle and I spent time coordinating and checking in over the past few weeks, but hadn’t found a rhythm to talk about the more mundane and day-to-day things. I look forward to experiencing her day to day. It’s funny how a person could go from someone you wistfully remembered to someone you found again and then to someone you’d miss in the span of a few days.
I hop out of the truck, tossing Spencer the keys over the hood. My hand moves automatically to Michelle’s back. As she turns, I place a peck on her cheek, breathing in her smell. Even though my possessions are boxed up in a moving truck right now, I’m more settled than I have been since I left her the last time.
“Sorry. Traffic was fucking terrible. We need to go, yes?” I say, glaring over the top of her head at the shit-eating grin my twin sports. Like he doesn’t worship the ground Charlotte walks on already. If they decide to have kids, he’ll be an absolute wreck.
“The bus will be here in a minute, or we could walk. It looks like it’ll be about twenty minutes either way with the morning rush,” she says.
“If you’re up for it, I’d rather not get in a vehicle again so soon.”
Michelle nods. “Sure, it’s not too hot yet today. You guys all set to unload?”
Spencer and Hayden hit identical salutes as Jax rolls her eyes. “I’ll keep these two in line. You guys get going.”
Michelle laughs as we set off toward the doctor’s office. Halfway down the sidewalk, she shifts her bag to the shoulder closest to me, hefting its weight up higher.
“Here, let me,” I say, gently tugging on the strap until she lets it slide off her arm and onto mine. “Sheesh, I didn’t know meteorologists used bricks in their work.”
“Wow. Dad jokes already. You’re really leaning into the role,” she says, deadpan.
I shrug, unable to keep the goofy grin from my face. “Gotta start sometime. But seriously, what all is in here?”
“Well, I have some notebooks. Shoes and a change of clothes for after my appointment. I’m hungry all the fucking time right now, so I packed some snacks. Plus, a water bottle because my pregnancy app yells at me about drinking water constantly. And there’s a front moving through later today with a chance to produce severe storms and possibly tornadoes. There’s nothing I can do for the tornadoes, but I packed a pair of sneakers in case of rain. It’s going to be a hell of a day.”
“Wow. That is equivalent to a few bricks, I think. What a weather day to welcome me to DC. How can you tell if the front has tornado potential, instead of only severe storms?”
Michelle launches into a complicated explanation about pressure, fronts, and wind streams, her hands gesticulating wildly. A lot of the terms she uses go right over my head, but I love seeing her so passionate. I make a note to find a good meteorological wiki and study up. I’d love to listen to her talk weather anytime.
Her explanation leads us the rest of the way to the doctor’s office. The waiting room is packed when we step inside, even though it’s not nine yet.
“Shit, it’s busy. I’ll go check-in—grab us those two seats over there? I don’t see any others together.”
I walk in the direction she pointed, speeding up as I see another guy approaching from the other direction. My butt hits the seat, with Michelle’s bag in the one next to me while he’s still five paces away. His eyes narrow, but he gives me a nod. I can tell when game recognizes game.
Women in a variety of ages and various potential stages of pregnancy fill the room. Some are sitting alone, others with partners. I think of Michelle sitting here alone for these appointments. In reality, I know she would have support if she needed it, but fuck, am I glad for barbecues, happenstance, and a touch of fate.
Michelle appears in front of me, and I move her bag so she can plop down. “One of the doctor’s called out sick, that’s the reason for the madhouse. I let them know my work shift starts in a little over an hour, but I know I’m not the only one trying to make it to work on time.”
“Is the station far from here? ”
“It’s not too bad by bus. A bit of a stretch for a walk.”
“If we need to, I’ll order you a ride share.”
“Or I can order my own ride share if I need to,” she says, leveling me with a look. A look that reminds me Michelle has been living on her own for a long time, and while she’s willing to accept me as part of this, she’s not willing to entertain a hero complex. That’s fine. I’ll put away my lance and steed for a time when we need them.
“Lewis?” A voice from the door calls.
“That wasn’t too bad,” I say, trailing behind her as we pick our way through outstretched feet and strollers.
“Said from the perspective of someone who hasn’t sat under an air conditioner in a thin exam gown waiting to have your vagina held open by cold metal.” The nurse we pass at the desk through the door snorts.
“Am I right, or am I right?” Michelle says.
“Oh, you’re right,” the nurse responds.
“Understood. I’m a young Padawan in the gynecological world. I’m ready to learn and observe.” I watch Michelle try—and fail—to stifle a laugh. Glad to know she appreciates my sense of humor.
We’re ushered into a room where I stand along the wall while a different nurse takes Michelle’s vitals and asks her questions. I see her making note of Michelle’s morning sickness frequency and hope the doctor will address it. I have some questions of my own, but I’m getting the vibes I’m to be seen and not heard while we’re in these walls.
The nurse grabs a cloth gown from under the exam table. “Go ahead and put this on. I see you requested an external ultrasound today, so I’ll grab you a blanket too. Do you want your um ...” the nurse’s eyes flash to me, seeming uncertain of our relationship.
“Baby Daddy?” I helpfully interject, causing Michelle to groan and cover her face. Definitely a seen and not heard vibe now .
“This is Hunter. He is the baby’s father and my new roommate. And yes, I’d like him to step outside.”
“Let’s go, Hunter,” the nurse says. I follow her, reminding myself Michelle’s clinical description of our relationship, while accurate, is meant to inform, not to hurt my feelings. All the same, I mentally move up a conversation about how our roommateship will proceed.
I hear the door creak behind me. Michelle peaks her head out. “You can come back in now.”
I wait a beat to let her get away from the door and enter to see her climbing up on the exam bed, her legs covered in a sheet. We sit for a few minutes, the sound of people walking up and down the hallway on the other side of the door the only thing keeping us from sitting in complete silence.
“So, how’s your new project going?” I ask, wanting to break the awkwardness. If our walk here proved anything, Michelle is always willing to talk about the weather.
“It’s really great. We soft launched the blog last week and are going to film the first videos to post later this week. There hasn’t been a ton of traffic yet, since we aren’t promoting it anywhere, but the feedback we’re getting is positive. It’s great to have the chance to do the type of weather reporting I came to DC to do.”
“What kind of reporting is that?” I ask, glad the tension in the air disappeared.
“Honestly, a lot like the stream of consciousness you got about storms and tornadoes on the way here. More scientific, more detailed. I started out with my forecasts trending in that direction but got some feedback viewers weren’t connecting with me. I should have known; pretty, smart, and fat as a woman is too much for some people to handle.”
“What?” I splutter. “You’re, you’re not ...”
She holds up her hand. “Hunter. It’s okay. The way I’m saying it, there’s no derogatory meaning behind it. It’s like saying you’re tall, or someone else is thin. Being in an on-air position like I am means I’ve heard pretty much every opinion under the sun about my body. Growing up female in high school helped prepare me too. I’m healthy and I love my body.”
I sit and absorb what she’s told me for a moment, my eyes never leaving hers. I find myself nodding. “Okay. That’s . . . that’s good to know. It’s going to take me some time to unlearn the way society uses the word more often, but I want to do it. Because, as you may recall, I loved your body too.”
Michelle’s cheeks tinge pink. “Breezing right past that for now. While we’re on the subject, sometimes in places like this”—she indicates the exam room we sit in—“people will try to ascribe unhealthy connotations to the word. I have a lot of practice shutting them down, but I want you to be prepared.”
I open my mouth to respond.
“Prepared to hear it. Not prepared to respond.” She cuts me off. “I can handle it.”
“Understood,” I say. There’s so much about this woman that amazes me. I can’t wait to keep learning about her.
A knock on the door indicates the arrival of the doctor. A woman with brown hair walks into the room, and Michelle’s face lights up.
“Dr. Barber,” she says, her voice excited. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“Hi Michelle,” the doctor says warmly, sanitizing her hands from the station inside the door. “Dr. Patton is the one who called out sick today, so we’re divvying up his morning appointments and rescheduling as many of the afternoon ones as we can.” Her eyes move to me. “And who do we have here?”
“This is Hunter. He’s the baby’s father.”
“Oh?” Dr. Barber’s eyebrows shoot high on her forehead in surprise. I take that to mean Michelle explained a bit about our situation at her last appointment.
“It’s a long story, but it turns out our social webs are a bit more tangled than we knew. He really wanted to be here today.”
The doctor turns her warm smile on me. “Well, I’m glad you could make it, Hunter. Nice to meet you.” Her attention returns to Michelle. “And now I understand the ultrasound request. To confirm, we can’t guarantee your insurance will cover it. There’s a chance, given your age, but we’ll need you to sign a form confirming you’ll pay out of pocket if you need to.”
Michelle nods. “That’s fine. I called the office ahead of time and got the cost. I’m good for it.”
Dr. Barber smiles again. “Alrighty then. I’ll go grab a machine and a tech, and we’ll get you all checked out.”
The door shuts softly behind her. Michelle takes a deep breath and then meets my gaze.
“You requested an ultrasound?” I say, my voice soft, like if I say it too loud, they’ll cancel it.
She nods, swallowing hard. “I know you made a real effort to get yourself here in time for this appointment. I . . . I didn’t want you to have to wait.”
I cross to her side in two steps. Not a huge feat in a small exam room, but I know I would have gotten to her in the same amount of time in a room three times this size.
I reach out for her hand, and she lets me grab it. “Michelle, I ...”
A knock sounds at the door again and her hand leaves mine, greeting the doctor and the nurse. I want to be a better listener, and I promise myself next time I’ll bring a notebook. Get every little thing down and commit it all to memory. But right now, they sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher as I wait until it’s time for the little screen to turn on.
“Okay, everything from the internal exam looks great. Let’s get you ready for the ultrasound.”
My hearing flips on a switch, and everything seems too loud. The opening of the gel bottle. My heartbeat and breathing in my ears. The click of the machine being turned on.
This time, Michelle’s hand finds mine, and she gives it a squeeze. The doctor puts the wand on Michelle’s stomach. I watch the process in fascination until I hear it. A little “thump, thump” coming from the machine to our right .
“There they are. Nice and strong. Can you see it? It’s that?—”
“That little cloud right there,” I say, pointing to the part of the screen that’s flickering.
“That’s right,” Dr. Barber says. “Seems you’ve got good instincts.”
“Little Cumulus,” Michelle says, her voice wavering slightly. My eyes leave the screen to see moisture pooling in hers. I grip her hand tighter and follow those instincts, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“We’ll give you two a minute,” the doctor says, slipping out of the room after the nurse.
“Do you really think it looks like a cloud?” Michelle asks, her eyes locked on the screen.
“Absolutely, I do. The nickname fits them perfectly.”
She leans her head on my shoulder, and we stay there together, looking at the life we somehow created flicker on the screen. Rightness washes over me again as I press another kiss to the crown of Michelle’s head. However we decide to navigate this thing, I know we’re doing it right. Together.