Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Michelle
Twenty-one weeks pregnant
I wake up more well-rested than I’ve been in weeks. The solid, warm presence at my back can claim credit. His hand is cupping my stomach, his breath even and warm at my ear.
After yesterday’s appointment, my brain tries to revolt about anyone touching my belly, but my heart pushes back until I can conjure up thoughts to combat the negativity. Here is a man who cares so much for me, for us, for this baby we made together. Instead of discomfort, a sense of being cherished rolls through me.
To the outside observer, my shape hasn’t changed much at this point. This means I’ve been able to keep it quiet at work, which I’m grateful for, especially with the opportunity of the web content. But Hunter, if he were awake, would notice a firmness is forming underneath my skin where his hand rests. The space Cumulus is occupying grows week by week.
Like they’re responding to my thought process, a flutter comes from where Cumulus is resting. My eyes close again, wanting to extend the contentedness of the moment the three of us are sharing.
“Holy fuck,” Hunter exclaims as my eyes pop open. “Was that ...” Maybe he doesn’t want to jinx it.
The firm nudging happens again, right where Hunter’s hand is resting on my stomach.
“Yup, that was little Cumulus saying good morning.” A giddy laugh follows as I move my hand to rest right next to his. He laces our pinkies together as we wait and hope for another kick.
“Has that happened before?” he whispers, like speaking too loudly will startle the baby.
“No,” I whisper back, in case he’s on to something. “I’ve felt small movements before, but it’s the first time?—”
I’m interrupted by one more kick and Hunter’s the one to laugh this time. “Holy shit, there’s a baby in there.”
A full belly laugh erupts from me dislodging Hunter’s hand. Moment broken, I roll over to face him, watching as the sheepish look on his face melts into laughter too.
We come down from the high slowly. Hunter continues to gaze at me with wonder, and I can’t look away.
“That . . . that was amazing,” he says. “I can’t believe I got to be a part of it.”
I reach up and stroke his face, my hand tracing down his chest until I clasp his hand. “I think it happened now because you were here. When I woke up, I felt so protected. The bad thoughts from yesterday tried to work their way back in, but because you were holding us”—I rest our hands against my stomach—“they didn’t find any room.”
Hunter inhales sharply, his eyes round with emotion. He leans in slowly, his intent clear, before brushing his lips with mine. Morning breath be damned, I open for him and go willingly when he breaks free from my grip to haul me closer.
The kiss is heated, but with passion and fondness, not as a precursor to more. Our mouths slow, until his forehead tips to mine, breathing each other’s air .
“Good morning,” he says.
“A good morning it is.” We stay like that for a long moment, enjoying this new place we’ve found together.
My stomach growls, breaking the moment. “God, for once, could my body pretend like it still belongs to me?” I roll over on my back and stretch. Hunter’s eyes follow my movements. I feel it like an extra layer of fabric as the cotton of my sleep shirt rubs across my nipples, hardened by the cold air from the window unit.
“Well, it’s my job to feed that body, whomever it belongs to, so I guess I better get up.” He lingers for a moment longer before pushing up and out of bed. It’s my turn for my eyes to meander over his body. Fuck , my baby daddy is hot.
He catches me staring at his ass as he turns around and smirks at me as he covers up with his shorts.
“So, what’ll it be for breakfast this morning?” His head pops out of his shirt, his hair adorably mussed. “Omelet? Or maybe pancakes and fruit?”
“Yes,” I say, my stomach growling again. I never regained the lost calories from yesterday, but I’m ready to make up for it now.
Hunter’s grin tells me he’s also thrilled my appetite is back. “All right, I’ll get going. See you out there in a few?”
“Try and keep me away.”
He throws me a wink before walking out of sight. I sigh, allowing myself one more moment to bask in the happiness of the morning before rolling into a seated position and getting up to get dressed.
As I walk past the dresser and catch my reflection in the mirror above it, this time, I see a strong woman. One who’s growing a baby and keeping herself healthy while doing the same for it. I don’t see someone who’s a percentile on a chart, or worthless in other’s eyes because of her weight. It’s good to be back. As my body continues to change over the next several months, I’ll be ready to deal with those emotions as they come. But the one thing I know? They won’t be brought on by some asshole doctor who is so small-minded he probably can’t memorize pi past the second decimal.
Hunter’s humming to himself when I reach the kitchen, flipping an omelet in one pan and a pancake in another. Competency kink in full effect, I squeeze my legs together at the thrum that rushes through my lady parts. I wolf whistle to show my appreciation.
The grin on his face when he turns to look at me is contagious.
“How in the world did you put this together so fast?” I ask in disbelief when he puts a steaming omelet on one plate in front of me and a stack of pancakes in the middle of the table.
“While you were napping yesterday, I did some more prep. Figured if the omelet took some coercing this morning, I would have it done in a few minutes before you talked yourself out of it.”
I wince at his accurate portrayal of how I reacted to food yesterday. A moan escapes as I take a bite—the cheese, herbs, and peppers hitting my tongue all at once. Hunter nods in approval before heading to the stove to make his eggs. I force myself to slow down so I don’t get sick and still have some food left to eat with him.
“I’ve come a long way in my issues with food, but yesterday hit all my insecurities and brought them out again.”
Hunter flips his omelet. “I’ve never experienced the need to make a doctor glad they’re surrounded by medical professionals before.”
I’m quiet for a moment before saying. “I think I want to file a complaint, like Jessa suggested yesterday.”
He walks over to the table, somehow balancing his eggs, a bowl of fruit, and some syrup. “I’m really glad you are. I’d never force you—it’s not my place to fight your battles—but how he treated you yesterday is unacceptable.”
I put two pancakes on my now empty plate and drizzle syrup. “You know, if you wanted to hold my battles’ hands behind their back or something, let me get a good hit in, I think that would be okay.”
His smile is as big as the mega pancake left on the plate he pulls toward him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
M onday morning, I get off the elevator onto the floor WUSN occupies. The bustling energy of everyone hustling to get things done between the morning news and the midday edition is a complete contrast to the rest of my weekend. After our breakfast, we snuggled on the couch and finished the movie from the night before, sans in-person strip show. The rest of the weekend was spent meandering to whatever we wanted to do next. We were relaxed, and we were together.
Now, I’m thrown back into the fray of the workday, and for the first time, I find myself not energized by it. Maybe that’s the twenty-first week talking.
“Lewis.”
I whirl around, recognizing the voice of Raymond Bauer, my boss, from down the hall. I stand off to the side, waiting for him to get to me.
“Been keeping an eye on the system in the Atlantic now it’s hit the Gulf of Mexico?” he asks, gesturing for me to follow him to his office. You might think I’d be offended he’d ask, but I’ve learned this is just how Ray starts a conversation.
“Of course. I saw it hit rapid intensification status a few hours ago.”
“The midday projections are here. Take that rapid intensification and keep it climbing.” My phone dings as he sends them over, saving me a few seconds from loading them myself. The wind speeds have increased by sixty mph in the past twenty-four hours. At this rate ...
“Fuck, it’s headed right for Houston,” I say, thinking of how some communities are still climbing out from under the hurricane that hit last year. “These pressure numbers are dropping several millibars an hour. That’s ...”
“The making of a potential Category Five,” Ray finishes for me. “I want you there. I’ve got a spot reserved for you with a crew who knows what they’re doing to keep you safe. A few other meteorologists, ex-military. You’ll work together, share footage. A major change in weather reporting.”
My mind scrambles. I’m still far under the recommended cut-off date for flying, but the rest of it? Being in the fray of a hurricane, in who knows what conditions? “Who’s going to cover my shifts? Isn’t Elizabeth out on vacation?”
“I called her and offered to cover whatever cancellation fees they encounter and add two vacation days onto what she gets back if she comes in. Weather is going to be shit in the Caribbean with this going on anyway.”
“Yeah, what meteorologist books a Caribbean vacation in August?”
“Guess her fiancé did it as a surprise and she didn’t want to squash their vibe.” We nod in understanding. Lay people.
“Well, I mean, I have this thing later this week?—”
“This is a big deal, Lewis. I need a big deal reason for you not to go.” Guess scramble time is over.
“I’m pregnant.”
He sits back in his chair. “Well, that’s probably the biggest deal of them all.”
I nod. “I’m due end of December. I planned to talk to HR soon, to get things lined up, but?—”
“But you’re a woman in a cutthroat field, so there’s no right time to tell.” My face must display my surprise because he laughs. “I have a sister, a wife, and two daughters. I know about cis, white man privilege. It’s why I lobbied for you to get the job and found a way for you to do forecasts your way when the brass made me tell you to tone it down.”
And here I spent all this time thinking of Ray as the bad guy. Instead, he’s a really good guy who didn’t want to pass the buck. Hmm. As I reach up to wipe my eyes, I think at least he knows I’m pregnant and not fully in control of my hormones.
“Well, you can’t go to Houston. Damn, I really wanted this spot ...”
“Send Elizabeth.” It’s out of my mouth before I consider the potential downfall of sending the thin, beautiful Zendaya lookalike out on a major assignment in my place. I shake myself internally. Break the ceiling and reach back to pull women with you, and all that.
“You think she can do it?” Ray asks. This time I hide my surprise better. He’s asking my opinion?
“Yeah, I think she’s got what it takes. And I’d love for her to keep doing the online stuff while I’m out on maternity leave to keep people interested. If there’s the budget, we could work together on it when I get back.”
Ray nods. “A perk of you telling me you’re pregnant now is I can fight to get the budget to make it happen. Now, let’s brainstorm what Elizabeth needs to know to get her up to speed. I wonder if she can fly straight to Houston from St. Croix ...”
I get home hours later, my feet each weighing one-hundred pounds. The humidity today is at an all-time high, and I’m still coming to terms with the loss of the Houston assignment. I know there’s no way I could possibly take it—I huff out a laugh on the stairs imagining telling Hunter I plan to fly into a hurricane. He’d blow a gasket. But it’s still disappointing to give up an opportunity like this. To gain some things, you really do have to give up others.
“Welcome home,” he says, putting plates on the table as I close the front door behind me.
“You’re freakishly good at that.”
“I could lie, but it got done too early, so it’s been warming in the oven. I pulled them out when I heard your key in the door. Careful, plate is hot.”
I collapse onto the chair with more melt than normal.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I mean, there’s a major hurricane heading toward Texas, and I don’t get to go cover it. So, I guess things aren’t so great for the people in the path, but I’m okay.”
“Wait, they were going to send you to cover a hurricane? Like in person? Not from a studio?” His eyes widen with each question.
“You heard where I said I’m not going, right?” I stab the fork into my food without looking at what it is. I recognize the flavors of a Tex-Mex pasta dish I’ve come to love and immediately regret my tone. “Sorry, I snapped. I’m the one who told my boss I couldn’t go. I also had to tell him I’m pregnant, but it’s going to be a cool opportunity for my coworker. I’m genuinely happy for her, while also being genuinely disappointed for myself.”
With double confirmation I’m not flying into danger, Hunter starts eating. “You know, humans have the capacity to feel more than one thing at a time.” He softens the sarcasm with a wink.
“Hmm. Sounds familiar, but I don’t like it.” I wink back.
We move on. Hunter tells me about his day. Some more testing with the app. He’s getting up to take the dishes to the sink when my phone pings.
“Ha. My boss is trying to guilt me into taking the Labor Day weekend shifts. ‘Be a team player while you can, Lewis.’ And I thought we made a breakthrough today.” I roll my eyes and put my phone face down. Hunter’s stopped in the middle of drying a pan, looking at me with pure panic.
“You’re going to work over Labor Day weekend? Isn’t there anyone else? I mean, I know you’re incredible and your job should want you on air all the time, but Labor Day?”
“What’s up, Hunt?” I ask, slightly concerned he’s broken .
He lets out a rush of air. “Well, this might be the record for shortest kept surprise ever.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I had this idea over the weekend and found a great deal—I booked us a cruise for the long weekend. You know, a baby moon. Now, at least that I’ve ruined it, I don’t have to figure out a creative way to get you to take Tuesday off, in addition to the days you already have.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet, Hunter.” I’m genuinely touched he went out of his way to surprise me. I know how stressed he is about money, so never expected a big gesture like this for a baby moon. I thought about suggesting a night or two in Annapolis or something. “Where’s the cruise to?”
“The Bahamas. It leaves from Baltimore, so no flights or anything. They’re doing a long weekend special, skipping some of the normal ports to fit it into five days.” My face twitches, and he catches it, his falling.
“Sorry, it’s ironic. You’re so, so sweet. And I’m really excited. My boss and I were talking today about my coworker, the one who’s taking the Houston assignment? She’s coming back from the Caribbean, which is a risky bet during hurricane season. Her fiancé booked it.”
“Shit. I didn’t think. Are the Bahamas bad too?” He looks crestfallen, so I stand and rush over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and putting my chin on his chest.
“Sometimes. But that’s what travel insurance is for.”
“Oh okay.” His smile, though still dimmed, returns as he wraps his arms around me too. “I did get the insurance. We get a full credit as long as we don’t get on the boat and cancel an hour ahead of time.”
“Very smart,” I say, leaning up to press a kiss on the tip of this nose. My eyes cross watching his smile morph into something more genuine.
“So you can tell your boss your ...” he trails off, like he started the sentence before realizing he didn’t know the end of it.
“My boyfriend did good,” I say, watching Hunter’s eyes light up with the word boyfriend.
“That’s right. Now, your boyfriend has been home for several hours, and has not had a single thought about watching last night’s episode of Survivor without you, but ...”
“God, I regret so much Preston and Jax getting you hooked on that show.” He’s binged it in the background when working from home after hearing Preston and Jax have a heated debate about the last season over the fourth.
“Because I then got you hooked on it?” he says, steering me to the couch.
“I’m not hooked. I can quit whenever I want,” I say, shushing him as he tries to rebut during the opening.
Settling further into the coach, he kisses my temple and whispers into my skin. “Whatever you say, girlfriend.”