I interrupted by leaning forward and lightly kissing her forehead. “Let me stop you right there, Maggie. I don’t blame you. There were two of us in that bedroom, remember? And I had the broken condom, right? While not planned in any way, I don’t regret what we did, baby or no baby. And let me just say, I’d never regret having a baby with you. So move past that right now, okay?”
Maggie kept her eyes on me as she took a deep calming breath. “Thanks. And I can quickly answer the questions you just ran through. Yep, Bridget is my principal. I’m three weeks late today, roughly, which equates to somewhere around seven weeks when looking at a pregnancy term. Today I bought a test on my lunch break. I took it after school because I couldn’t wait anymore, and she happened to find me as I was having a mini meltdown. And I have no idea what I need beyond to stop crying so easily. I think I’ve cried more today than I have in the past ten years combined.” She paused for a moment before continuing, seeming to gather some strength. “Strike that. I do need something.”
It was ridiculous the joy I got at the idea of helping her. “What? Anything.”
“I’m starving.” She gave me big brown eyes.
I smiled at her. “This I can handle. Do you have any food in this place, or is it a barren wasteland like the last time Emma and I were here?”
I laughed as she gave me a small eye roll. “It wasn’t a wasteland. I just only go shopping once a week.”
“Condiments, Maggie. You didn’t even have condiments.” I popped up off the couch to check out what she really had to work with. I opened her refrigerator, happy to see that she had more food in here than last time.
“Well, mayo makes me squeamish ever since I got sick on tuna salad one summer. And I have no idea why I didn’t have anything else other than I prefer to eat at the brewery,” she said to my back as I moved to the kitchen. Looking over my shoulder at her, she grabbed the throw to wrap around her shoulders and followed me over to the kitchen.
“Do you have pasta or Arborio rice?” I scanned what she had available.
Looking in one of her cabinets, she pulled out a box of mini rigatoni. “Does this work for what you’re thinking?”
“Yep.” I grabbed it and placed it on the counter, dumping some chopped pancetta, mushrooms, half an onion, cream, and parmesan on the counter.
“My mouth is watering already. What are you thinking?” she asked. “And how quickly will we be eating?”
“Well, I usually make risotto with this stuff, but I think it would work with pasta too.” I nodded my head to the counter, grabbing a skillet.
“Want me to make a salad?” Maggie asked.
I gave her what I hoped was a firm look. “Mags, I’m taking care of you tonight. You’ve had a shit day, and knowing you, you’ve been wondering if you were pregnant for three weeks, convincing yourself you weren’t and freaking a bit the whole time. Sit your ass on that stool and chill. Want some tea?”
Maggie closed her eyes and blew out a sigh. “Well, you aren’t wrong. It was a shit day. That being said, it’s looking up. And peppermint please.”
I immediately looked over to her. “Are you feeling sick?”
“Good Lord, this is going to be a long nine months if you’re going to stress over everything,” she grumbled. “No, I just like peppermint.”
I shook my head at her and headed over to where she stored her tea. Maggie grabbed her phone out of her purse and hooked us up with some music. The next hour passed easily. I let the conversation move away from the pregnancy and the two of us, sensing Maggie needed some normalcy, at least for an hour or so.
As we were cleaning up the dishes after dinner, the topic once again returned to the one I’d let drop. “Did you get a chance to schedule a doctor appointment today with all the craziness?”
“I sent a request through the hospital’s website. I haven’t checked my email to see if they replied before they closed for the night,” she explained. “I’m hoping the folks in scheduling saw my note about getting the appointment either in my doc’s early-morning slot before school or after four. I can’t take off during the day for the next week. There’s just too much to do to wrap up the school year.”
“Want to check now? If it’s okay with you, I’d really like to go with you to the appointments,” I asked quietly, not wanting to alarm her at my desire to be involved. In some ways she reminded me of an easily spooked horse my grandfather had worked on rehabilitating when I was a kid.
Her eyebrows went up.
“What?” I asked.
Maggie’s cheeks colored. “Um, it’s just a gynecologist appointment isn’t something I thought I’d be experiencing with you. They’re a bit, well, exposing.”
I nodded. I’d never been to one, clearly, but I knew a little about them. “I understand, and if you don’t want me there, I’ll respect that. But if I can go, even to a few, I’d like to.”
Maggie watched me for a moment. “Sure,” she said, moving toward her phone. “Let me check my email.”
She sat for a few minutes, scrolling through what I assumed were her emails. “They said I have a slot after school on Monday.” She looked up at me. “Does that work for you?” She held her phone out for me to look at the email.
I scanned it as well, then grabbed my phone. I opened the calendar app and added the appointment to my calendar before handing Maggie back her phone. I slid my phone in my pocket and leaned back against the counter.
“Sully?”
