Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Hunter
Fifteen weeks pregnant
B eing nervous is a new experience for me. Okay, well that’s not entirely true, but being nervous for my parents to meet a woman? Definitely new.
I look at Michelle, straightening the throw pillows on the couch. Then she moves to the kitchen counter, sliding the charcuterie board I put together an inch to the right. I do my best to stifle a smile. This is the third time she’s made this circuit in the last five minutes. Last time, it was two inches to the left. Next, she’ll ask me if I think the pictures on the wall are crooked.
“Is this straight? I don’t think it’s straight.” Right on cue.
“Mich, it’s fine. My parents are not fancy people. They’re going to love you.”
She scoffs, heading back to the couch. “Yeah, right. Who loves the woman who manages to get knocked up by their son?”
I walk toward her, taking the throw pillow out of her hand and guiding her to sit down next to me. “It took both of us to make this baby.” My eyes follow the path her hand makes to rest on her stomach. “And they’re going to love you because I?—”
“I swear to god if you tell me you love me right now, Hunter Brandt.”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it and she throws me a death glare.
“Sorry, sorry. I don’t think we’re that much of a cliché. What I was going to say is because they know you and the baby are important to me.”
Michelle’s face relaxes into a pleased smile. “It’s not like I don’t know that. You moved your whole life here, sold your motorcycle, bought me bubble bath last week. But it’s still nice to hear out loud.”
I make a mental note to tell her something I like or appreciate about her more often.
She looks around the room, her eyes analyzing for anything out of place. “Maybe I should light a candle? Does it smell funny in here? It smells funny?—”
“Hey,” I interrupt her spiral once more. The full weight of her gaze connects with mine. Those nerves from earlier? They’re back with a vengeance, but for a whole new reason.
“Along with being important to me, I like you as a person, you know.” Wow, Cyrano. That’s the best you can do? “What I’m trying to say is you’re important to me for more than carrying our baby. And because of that, I want to be sure I introduce you to my parents in the best way I can.”
A puzzled look crosses her face. “So, you need to know my middle name or something?”
My hands have to be darkening the couch cushions by now. They’re sweating so much. “No, well, yes, I’d love to know your middle name. I’d love to know everything about you, honestly. But in this case, I mean—what are we? How do I refer to you?”
“Oh.” She pauses and looks thoughtful. “I guess ‘baby mama’ may not go over well with all crowds. ”
Emotion rises up in me to hear her say it again. “You are more to me than?—”
“I know, I know,” she cuts me off, her tone soothing. “I’m more to you than a human incubator. I’m sorry. I make bad jokes when I get nervous.”
I think back over the past few weeks. “Just when you get nervous? Because I’d say you’re pretty corny most of the time.”
There’s a pause before she speaks, her words soft. “Or do you make me nervous most of the time?”
I suck in a breath. Fuck. Did I force my way into her life? Is she not comfortable in her own home anymore?
“Your thoughts are all over your face, Hunt. I love having you here. But since you asked what we are . . . that’s part of what makes me nervous. Beyond being future co-parents, I feel ...” She straightens her shoulder and breathes deep. “I feel a pull toward you. I felt it that first night, in the days that passed even before I knew about little Cumulus here. It’s not going away. And that terrifies me, because I know I should be putting the baby first, and maintaining a civil relationship between us is more important than any urges or instincts I have.”
I waggle my eyebrows, breaking the tension. “So, you’re having urges?” She smacks my arm gently.
“C’mon, you started this. What about you? Do you feel ...” she trails off, looking lost. I curse my inability to be an adult— again .
“Yes. Yes, I feel a pull too. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about”—I gesture around—“us, our situation, everything. If there’s a chance for us to be more than co-parents and friends, I’d like to talk about exploring that.”
She laughs, leaning back on the couch, her hand once more drifting to her stomach. I see her falling into the position absentmindedly more and more. It warms my heart each time.
“We’re doing this all backward,” she says. “Have a baby together, move in together, now try to define the relationship? I think we missed a few steps. ”
“Yeah, I feel like an engagement should have been in there somewhere.”
“Let’s leave the fake engagements to your brother, okay?”
“You know, there’s something to that. We may not know how to define ourselves, but at least we don’t have to tell my parents we faked an engagement.”
We laugh. “No, we can definitely leave that honor to Preston and Jax,” she says.
A comfortable silence descends, a feeling of home taking over as the refrigerator kicks on with its now-familiar hum and the smell of fresh bread the neighbors brought home from the farmers’ market wafts in from the hallway.
“You know, you forgot something in your synopsis of our history,” I say.
“What’s that?” She rolls her head along the back of the couch to look at me.
“There were some corny pick up lines, some laughter, and some really great sex.”
Her eyes grow serious. “I haven’t forgotten. I think about it all the time. But that’s what scares me. I think given where this is headed in twenty-five weeks, I need more than only laughs and good sex. We know those work. I need to know how things can be between us outside of those parts.”
I lean forward slowly, letting her know I’m coming into her space. I rest my forehead against hers, wanting her to see me. Hear me. “I’m beginning to realize anything you want that’s in my power to give, it’s yours. Maybe outside, too.”
We sit still, breathing the same air, tension building again, but this time tension of anticipation. Of want. Of fear. Of risk.
A buzzing noise slices through the air, the intercom. Michelle jumps away from me, and in the next second is on her feet. “Is that them?”
I look at my watch, seeing the rest of the morning has flown by. “Yup, right on time. Margaret’s specialty.”
“Shit! I never lit that candle. Can you buzz them in?” She takes off for the kitchen, in search of matches. I watch her with a small smile on my face. I knew she felt it too, this something between us. We just need to be brave enough to explore it.
I push up and hit the button by the door. “Hello?”
“Hunter! It’s us.” I hear my dad’s voice and my smile grows bigger, excited to have so many important people all in one place for the weekend. “Come on up,” I say, pushing the button to unlock the front door.
I didn’t show Dad and Margaret how much I appreciated their support and patience while we still lived in the same state. The nervous feeling returns. I meant it when I said they’ll love Michelle. Pretty sure it’s impossible not to. This time, the nerves accompany a desire for their approval. I’m finally taking chances, trying to be there for someone else and putting myself second. Hopefully, they can see it too.
Michelle moves into my view, setting a three-wick candle on the coffee table. She wafts the air above it. “I hope they can’t smell the match ...” She worries aloud, wringing her hands.
“C’mere,” I say, waving her into my side. I kiss the side of her head. “Thank you for doing so much to make them feel welcome. I think it’s going to be a great visit.”
She looks up at me, a pleased smile on her face, her shoulders relaxed for the first time all morning. They press up toward her ears again as there’s a knock on the door.
Before I let her go, I need to say one more thing. “Also, after they leave in a few days. I think we should go on a date.” With that, I step away to open the door.
“Hunter!” Margaret exclaims, holding a bouquet of flowers and a reusable bag full of who knows what. She thrusts the flowers at my dad, so she has a free hand to give me a hug. It took me a long time to accept her hugs after she and my dad got together. She never pressed me or made me feel bad about it, but in the tightness of her squeezes now, I sense the desire to make up for those years when she had to love on me from afar.
“Hi, Margaret. Dad,” I say next, the bouquet of flowers tapping me gently on the back as Dad gives a hug of his own. “How was the trip down?”
“Oh, you know the train,” Margaret says. “We got in later than expected last night, but Duncan had a car waiting for us. The hotel is too much, but that’s your brother.”
“I’m pretty sure the hotel and car are to make up for your insistence on taking the train,” I say. “He would rather you let him fly you, first class.”
“Psh, I know. I did enough flying everywhere when I worked. Now, I want to take my time, enjoy seeing the world around me.” Margaret was a fierce businesswoman, having a stake in several patents she sold off when she retired. Now, she refuses to give up her more leisurely travel methods if she can help it.
A cough sounds from behind us. Michelle has a horrified look on her face when I turn around and I can only imagine she needed to cough for real but is afraid we think she was trying to remind us she’s here. Like I could ever be unaware of her presence when we share a room.
I step back to stand next to Michelle. “Michelle, this is my dad, Stephen, and stepmom, Margaret. Dad, Margaret, this is my Michelle.” She looks up at me in surprise, but I simply squeeze her waist. I didn’t stop to think when it came time to make the introduction. Now I know she’s open to more, I don’t care what word falls between. As long as she’s mine.