“I, um… I’m just a little freaked out about the appointment.”
I storm over to her and shift her chair to the side as I drop to my knees. “Talk to me. What are you worried about?”
“What if there’s something wrong with the baby? There’s a thing called a blighted ovum. What if I have that and I’m not even pregnant? Or what if I messed up my ovulation window and it’s twins? Or what if?—”
Taking her hands in mine, I press a soft kiss to her tattoo. “Pregnancy is scary. You’re trying to grow a little person inside you, and yes, there are a lot of things that could go wrong. But information is power. They’re going to rub cold jelly on your stomach and show you exactly how the little lentil is doing. There’s no need to worry until you hear otherwise from the doctor.”
“Lentil?”
I pull out my phone and show her the app I downloaded a few weeks ago. “I had to guess when your last period was, but right now your baby is the size of a lentil.” A tear slips from the corner of her eye and I brush it away. “I promise we'll make sure you get every test available so we can prepare for anything that comes our way. Until then, focus on keeping your stress to a minimum and your health.” Aubrey scoffs at my suggestion soI ask, “Did you remember to eat breakfast?” She nods, another tear escaping. “Good girl. Do you need a minute before we go?” She nods again. “Do you want me to stay?”
“No, it’s all right. I just need a second to collect myself.”
“Okay. I’m going to leave first and meet you outside the building. If you’re not out there in five, I’m coming back.”
As I stand, I kiss her forehead, and as I’m about to walk away, she grips my hand. “Thank you. I’m just overwhelmed and it helps to know I’m not doing this alone.”
I hold her hand tighter. “I only make promises I intend to keep, so when I tell you I’m here for whatever you need, I mean it.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” She offers a wry smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. I don’t expect her to believe me, especially after the hell her ex put her through.
Leaving her office, I make a silent promise to myself: one day, I’m going to marry that woman. As impulsive as it would be, I’d drop to one knee right now if I knew she’d say yes. After waiting outside for only three or four minutes, Aubrey exits the building, sliding on her sunglasses and slinging her oversized purse into her shoulder. I want to reach for her, pull her to me to comfort her, but if the wrong person saw or photographed it, we’d have a firestorm of media bullshit to deal with.
“You didn’t have to order a rideshare,” she quietly says, keeping her focus ahead of us.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I don’t indulge her comment. Having someone from the security team drive us would be reckless and would open us up to the rumor mill. A few minutes later, a black sedan pulls up with the matching license plate frommy app, and I open the door for Aubrey. She slides in, leaving me room to sit beside her. Once our destination is confirmed, we’re on our way, and my palms itch to take Aubrey’s hand. I doubt the driver would leak photos, but I’m not taking any chances.
I’m grateful they don’t attempt any small talk and the drive is only five minutes from us. We probably could’ve walked, but with how Aubrey was feeling earlier, the last thing she needs is a long walk to a medical building. We arrive and I open my door, gesturing for her to exit the same way I do. Offering my hand, she takes it, and for the first time in days, peace washes over me as if the planets have aligned. Our driver leaves and I quickly tap my phone to get to the app to tip them, but the second Aubrey lets go of my hand, it’s as if the life has been sucked out of me. The sooner we can make our relationship public, the better.
She leads the way to the office and checks in. I hang back to give her privacy as the receptionist takes her insurance card to scan it, then hands her a clipboard full of papers. The one thing I’ll miss from back home is not needing to worry about medical costs. Healthcare should never bankrupt anyone, and I’m grateful Aubrey has great insurance working for Olivia. She fills out the paperwork in silence, then gets to a section that has her pausing.
“Everything okay?”
With a nod, she gestures with her pen to where it says emergency contact. “Olivia has always been my first on the list. Now she’s Governor Harris, not just my best friend.”
I take the paper from her and write in Olivia Harris on the first line, then hand it back to her. “Put Tracy or someone you trust as the second. At least they’ll try to call Olivia first.”
Aubrey’s eyes are shiny again. She grabs her phone and finds Olivia’s personal number, then to my surprise, she adds my name as second, scrolling in her contacts for my information. My heart swells at the gesture; I never expected her to include me.
“I’d put you first, but Olivia would never let me live it down,” she chuckles. “I’m sorry if it’s too much of a responsibility. I can erase it and?—”
Refusing to let her continue, I gently grip her hand and wait for her to look at me. “I moved here knowing exactly what I’d be signing up for.”
“It’s a lot.”
“I know. Now is probably a good time to admit that I knew about this appointment. Olivia wanted me to start today, but since you never called me back, I may have checked your public calendar and made an educated guess that you’d be at the doctor’s.”
There isn’t a hint of surprise; if anything, she looks amused. “Someone may have said something to me last week.”
“You’re not mad?” Exactly one person knew—Isaac. I should probably be upset that he told her, but if he’s the reason she invited me today, maybe I need to thank him.
“When have we ever done what’s expected of us? You were supposed to be a fun one-night stand while I was in Canada and I planned on having a baby by myself… but you’re here.”
Not giving a fuck who may be watching, I slide my hand behind her and pull her into me, kissing the top of her head as she rests on my shoulder. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Aubrey finishes completing her paperwork, then we’re called back. She hands the nurse her clipboard and we’re led into a room with an exam table, two computers, and a small station with a sink and cabinets. It’s sterile and impersonal. Her doctor and the staff, by law, can’t disclose anything from the appointment, so at the nurse’s suggestion, I move one of the plastic chairs beside Aubrey, taking her hand in mine.
“Being so early in the pregnancy, we may need to do a transvaginal ultrasound,” she explains, handing Aubrey a gown and a small cup. “We’ll also want a urine sample. The bathroom is down the hall. As soon as you’re done with the sample, you can return here and change into a gown.”
