4
Quinn
Sunlight streams through the living room windows, directly illuminating the front door. I’m on my way to the kitchen to find something to eat, and I stop, looking at the door. Everything that happened yesterday is fresh in my mind, including the fear. I was afraid for myself, but even more afraid for my child, and now I understand why some women refer to themselves as ‘mama bears’ when it comes to protecting their babies.
The rug I tripped over has been smoothed out again, and I remember it all so well.
The look in the guy’s eyes. The desperation and anger in his voice. The way he looked at the shirt, I was wearing and knew it belonged to Archer. I’m certain I’ve never seen that Bobby guy before, but he looked familiar.
Tearing my eyes away from the door, I continue to the kitchen. It’s seven a.m., and after eating mac and cheese last night, Archer and I watched the final Harry Potter movie before falling back asleep. He’s still sound asleep in bed, and I didn’t want to wake him.
Trying to avoid a queasy stomach, I’m on the search for crackers. I bend down, looking in the cluttered cabinet filled with nonperishables. The floor creaks behind me and thinking it’s Archer, I spring up, box of crackers in hand.
But it’s not Archer. It’s Sam, and he’s naked. He freezes, letting out a shriek.
“Oh my God,” I exclaim and divert my eyes.
“Quinn, I…I…I thought you were still asleep,” he stammers, bringing his hands down to cover his junk.
“I was hungry,” I say, trying not to laugh. I fail. I bring my hand to my mouth and turn away.
“Women don’t usually laugh when they see me naked, you know.”
I grab a dish towel from the counter to toss to him.
“That’s not big enough,” he says seriously and side steps away.
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes and turn away to open the crackers.
“Quinn?” Archer calls, voice thick with sleep. He comes into the kitchen, probably making sure I’m okay after hearing Sam yell. “Dude,” he says to Sam. “We talked about this.”
“I thought you were both still sleeping.”
“You talked about this?” I ask, looking at Archer. He’s just in his boxers, and there are creases from his pillow on his face. His dark hair is a mess, stubble covers his strong jaw, and he looks so damn sexy without even trying. He makes butterflies flit in my stomach, and with everything we went through yesterday, I feel closer to him. “So this is a regular occurrence?”
“Yes,” Archer says with a chuckle. “It’s so fun living with him.”
“Hey,” Sam interjects, walking backward down the hall. “I’m confident in my body.”
“Trust me, we know.” Archer moves in behind me, arms going to my waist. He kisses my neck and I lean back against him. “I can make you something better than crackers for breakfast if you want.”
“This is fine for now,” I tell him, spinning around in his arms. “I was going to go back to bed. You should too. You look tired.”
“I’m all right. Do you want eggs again?”
“You don’t have to make me anything, babe.” I set the box of crackers down so I can hug him. “Are you working today?”
He shakes his head. “I’m on call again.”
“You won’t work so much when you get a new job, right?”
“I shouldn’t.”
Now’s a perfect time to ask him about where he’s going to apply, to bring up the great hospitals around the Chicago area. If we want to live together, one of us is going to have to move. I guess it could be me, but when he’s actively looking for a new hospital, it makes sense that it’s him, right?
“It’s morning,” he says before I can go on. “We need to talk about that guy from yesterday.”
He tenses, ever so slightly, and if I weren’t holding onto him, I wouldn’t have noticed. I do have questions, but I don’t know how Archer will answer. He didn’t see the guy. How’s he going to know anything about him?
“Okay.” I slide my hands down his arms and step back, grabbing the crackers. “We can talk while we eat. I’ll make you breakfast this morning. I do know how, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” His eyes go to my wrist, and he looks guilty, almost as if it’s his fault I got hurt. “But I like making you breakfast.”
I smile. “I won’t object to that.”
“What do you want?”
“Eggs.”
“You’re getting predictable, Quinn,” he says with a shake of his head. I laugh and open the box of crackers, too hungry to wait to eat. I take a bite out of one and go get my phone. I have a bunch of texts from my mom that I didn’t hear last night since I passed out. She’s excited to see another picture of the baby, but then asks why I got another ultrasound done.
My lack of response must have worried her, and her last text is a request to call me in the morning. I go to call her back and then remember there’s a time difference between Eastwood and Indy. And they’re an hour behind? No. Ahead. I think? I’m smart, yet figuring out time zones will forever confuse me.
Either way, it’s early, and Mom’s probably still sleeping or at the very least just starting her day. Taking my phone with me, I go back into the kitchen and check my email, responding to a few, while Archer makes breakfast. Mom texts me, and I exit out of my emails to respond.
Mom: Are you awake? You’re worrying me, Q
Me: Yeah, I am. And sorry. I fell asleep early last night. Archer was able to get a doctor-buddy to do another ultrasound so we could see the baby.
It’s the truth with a few things omitted, but I instantly feel bad for lying. Though I know my mother and know how much she’ll panic if she were to know everything that happened. I could be right in front of her and she still wouldn’t be convinced I’m okay.
Mom: Oh, that’s good! She’s growing! I started a Pinterest board for the baby shower. Do you want to do a gender reveal? We can do something small for that, if you’d like. Just us and Archer’s family.
Me: I’ll talk to Archer about it. We’re going to find out what we’re having as soon as we can. Arch said there’s a newer test I can do in like 2 weeks.
Mom: Two weeks! I’ll start planning! Do you want to have it here? Eastwood is in the middle between you and Archer.
My chest tightens and a new wave of panic washes over me, one that hasn’t quite made it to the shore yet. In two weeks, we could know what we’re having. We’ll pick out a name and can start planning the nursery. But where will it be?
“Do you want toast?” Archer asks, sliding a plate of eggs in front of me.
“No, thanks. And thanks for the eggs.”
He takes a plate for himself and sits across from me. “They’re easy. Someday I’m going to make you a real meal. I’m not the best cook, so don’t have high expectations.”
I laugh. “I’ll save my high expectations for sex.”
“You know I aim to please. Multiple times.”
I push my eggs around on the plate, helping them cool. “So far, so good. Trust me, I’ll let you know if things start to suck in the sack.”
“They won’t,” he promises. “Though some sucking might happen.”
Laughing again, I scoop up some eggs and blow on them before putting them in my mouth. Mom sends me another text with pictures of cakes she found on Pinterest for a gender reveal party.
“How do you feel about having a gender reveal party?” I ask.
“What is that?” Archer gets up to make a pot of coffee.
“Basically a party announcing if the baby is a boy or girl. You don’t tell anyone until the end, and you pop a balloon with pink or blue confetti in it or something.”
“And it’s a thing people do now?”
“Yeah. If you have a halfway decent Instagram following and you don’t do one, people will wonder what’s wrong with you.”
Archer chuckles. “I don’t really care either way. Any excuse to have a party is good in my book. Do you want to have one?”
“I know they’re a little lame, but yeah.” I bite my lip, looking at the photos my mom sent. I haven’t told anyone besides my family and Marissa about the baby. I’m a modern woman with a successful job, and shouldn’t worry about people judging me over having a baby when I’m not married. But I do, just a bit.
“Then let’s do it.”
Archer’s words make me smile. “My mom is going to go crazy over this. She wants to know where to have the party?”
It’s a simple question, but I know it raises the same
concerns to Archer too. He turns on the coffee maker and comes back to the table. “If you’re going to take impressive Instagram pictures, your parents’ farm has the perfect setting.”
“I’m glad you have your priorities in check.”
He nods. “I gotcha, babe. We’ll make sure to have everything posed perfectly. I’ll even take pictures of all my food before I eat it. Actually, we could invest in some of that realistic-looking fake food. I hear it photographs better.”
I look at Archer, a big smile on my face. He makes it so easy to fall.
“Good idea. Anything for the likes.”
“Exactly. The number of likes is a direct correlation to how loved this baby is. We really have to step it up.”
Laughing, I finish the last of my eggs and get up to put the plate in the sink. “So if we are able to find out the baby’s sex in just a few weeks, shouldn’t you tell your parents? They still don’t know.”
The light goes out in Archer’s eyes. “Yeah…they don’t. Want to have lunch with them soon?”
“Of course. I haven’t seen your mom in years. Do you think she remembers me?”
“She does. I talked to her last night and told her you were my girlfriend. I didn’t tell her about the baby yet. I’d rather tell her in person.”
“Yeah, I agree. You said she’ll be excited?”
“She will. My dad too. They’ll be surprised, but happily surprised.”
“Good.” I put my hand over my stomach. “I don’t want any more drama.”
Archer tenses again, and his hand goes to the back of his neck. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when his phone rings. It’s someone from the hospital, and it sounds like a nurse asking for new medications for one of Archer’s patients.
I take Archer’s empty plate to the sink, rinse the dishes off and then load them into the dishwasher. Archer is still on the phone, so I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I really want to kiss him, but not until after my mouth is clean.
One of Archer’s lab coats is hanging up in his closet in his room, and I get it out, smiling when I see his name stitched into the fabric. He joked about liking to wear this out in public, so people know he’s a doctor. Biting my lip, I look back into the kitchen. I can’t see directly into it from Archer’s room, but I can hear his voice. He’s still on the phone, and after listening for a brief moment, I think a patient is being difficult and not following post-op instructions.