“Thank you.” Tate and I say in unison.
Once I’ve been moved to the exam room, there's another tap at the door. A middle-aged woman with gray speckled hair enters the room, her laptop clutched to her chest. “Darcy, nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Freyer and it looks like this is our first appointment, where we are just checking to make sure everything is good and getting your care plan established. Am I correct?”
“That is correct.”
“And this young man is…”
“Tatum Reed, ma’am. Darcy’s co-parent.” Tate sticks out a hand to the Doctor’s surprise, but she shakes it anyway.
“Firstly, I’d like to congratulate you, cover any concerns, and go over a basic timeline, does that sound good?”
Dr. Freyer explains how our following appointments will go, what foods and activities I should avoid, and ensures that I have prenatals on deck—which Sin, of course, dropped off the day after I got my positive test. When I mention that I’ve been having issues with nausea and vomiting, she suggests keeping snacks and preggie pops in my purse along with taking a B6 supplement and using Unisom tablets at night. The Unisom is mentioned with the caution of also keeping stool softeners on deck in case it causes constipation.
After stopping at the front desk to schedule our eighteen-week appointment, we head back out to Tates car. My head spins as it comes to me that we won’t be coming back anytime soon and the next time we see our blob, they will be partially formed and we will get to find out the gender. Tate jogs ahead and opens the car door for me.
“You don’t have to do that, you know?”
“I do, my mom raised a gentleman so get used to it. Ya know?” He winks at me, smirking, and closes the door. Hopping in on the driver's side, he asks, “Is the baby hungry?”
“The blob and Mama are hungry. For breadsticks,” I quickly add. “That’s what we want.”
“Italian it is. I know just the place.” He puts the car in drive, music playing softly in the background as he navigates the busy Tampa roads. By the time we make it to Ristorante Bruno, my nausea has kicked up a bit. I need to eat something sooner, rather than later.
“You alright?” Tatum asks when he opens my door, helping me out of the car.
“Ugh. Your spawn is always hungry, and if I don’t feed it, it gets angry.” I grimace, trying to keep myself from emptying the contents of my stomach onto this parking lot.
“Well then let's get you something to eat on the double.” Tatum flashes me a smile.
I can’t help but think the last thing he wants in his life right now is a pregnant woman passing out on him or watching me vomit everywhere. Once inside, it takes almost no time before we are shown to our table, each left with a menu and a roll of silverware.
“So, how are you feeling after the appointment?” I ask Tate as we peruse our menus—I’m debating between lasagna or a minestrone. I don’t want to ruin lasagna, my favorite food, if Tate’s semen demon doesn’t allow me to keep it down.
“You were right. The baby kind of looks like a blob right now. I’m honestly relieved to know that everything is okay so far. You didn’t tell me that you were feeling sick all the time though.”
“I mean you couldn’t do anything. There was no point in telling you.” Daring to peek up at him, I notice his eyebrows are furrowed almost in frustration.
“I could have helped. I can bring you things to make sure you are at least hydrated and fed.”
“Tate, as much as I appreciate that, Sin is a nurse, and has been coming over probably twice a week to make sure I’m alive and stocked up.”
“That’s a fair point,” he concedes with a light chuckle.
What feels like an eternity later because of my tiny and impatient parasite, the waitress arrives with breadsticks. She takes our orders, leaving us afterward sitting in a comfortable silence.
Clearing his throat, Tate eases the tension. “How are we planning on explaining this to our families?”
Well, I honestly don’t know how to answer such a loaded question. I know my family is going to give me the ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed look’, even though on the inside my Mom is going to be freaking out. I am dreading her inevitable suggestion that Tate and I should marry, and that she’s going to spiral into who knows what kind of mood.
“Where’d ya go, D?” Tate speaks again.
“Sorry… I was just thinking that my mother is going to be an absolute basket case when she finds out. When she found out in tenth grade that I had a boyfriend whowasn’tone of her wealthy friends' sons, I swear she almost gave herself an aneurysm. We dated until right before I started my freshmen year of college and the whole time Mom wouldn’t let him attend any events. My parents never missed an opportunity to tell him he wasn’t good enough for me on the rare occasion they did see him. He ended up dumping me because he needed more, and I wasn’t able to give it while living with my parents. I haven’t had a serious relationship since. I mean, I guess we just get my family together and just rip the band-aid off. I don’t think we can really prepare them or ourselves for the news.” I sigh, continuing my mental spiral around this hypothetical conversation. “Any chance your parents might be more receptive than mine?”
“Well, I’m sorry that she did that to you. That’s not fair. No matter how your mom reacts, I’ll have your back, Darcy. I don’t think my parents are going to be upset, I think they’ll just be surprised, which we all were, weren’t we?” I don’t know if it’s his infectious laugh, or the breadsticks delivering their much-demanded nutrients, but I feel my anxiety begin to fade.
“I honest to God thought I had the flu. Then, Sin showed up with Kodi, Harls and a bag full of pregnancy tests, putting me firmly in my place.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal. The waitress comes back by dropping our food off. We finish our meal, and I start to find comfort in the silence I’ve found with Tate.
He drops me back at my apartment, once again reminding me that if I need absolutely anything, at any time, to call him.
