“If I should go back to work after I have Emma.”
“Oh. I’ve wondered about that too. What do you want to do?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I like my job, but I think I’m going to like being a mom too.”
I always knew I would get married and have kids someday. I tried not to let myself think too far ahead and risk feeling sorry for myself since I had no prospects in sight, but I imagined being home with my children like Mom was home with us. But now I have a job I really enjoy, and I don’t know what to do.
“If it helps,” Archer starts, picking up his coffee. “You don’t have to work. I’m still a resident now, but once I get a job, I’ll make more than enough to support us all.”
I smile, but his words make me realize how much we have to talk about. We never discussed finances or anything serious like that. Though those are topics usually discussed before getting married, when debts and assets combine. Archer and I aren’t getting married, though having his baby is more binding. I can’t divorce him from being Emma’s father.
“I don’t want you to feel obligated to support me.”
“I don’t,” he says right away, setting his coffee down. He looks into my eyes and my heart flutters. “I want us to live together,” he says and looks relieved as soon as the words leave his lips. Has he been wanting to say that for a while too?
“You do?”
“Of course. I love you and love waking up next to you. I like making you breakfast and taking a shower with you. And when Emma is born, I want to be there. Yeah, she wasn’t planned, and things aren’t exactly worked out yet, but I love you and I love her, and I want us to be a family.”
“Me too,” I tell him, not sure why I dreaded this conversation as much as I did. We’re at the tip of the iceberg with a lot left to discuss and figure out, but at least I know for sure we’re on the same page.
Archer phone rings, and we both tense. He grabs it, lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s the hospital.”
“On your day off?”
“I never really get time off,” he sighs. “Don’t worry, they can’t make me go in or anything today. I’m already maxed out on hours.” He flashes a smile. “But I did tell the nurses to call me with progress on patients.”
“You’re a good doctor.”
He answers the phone, going over a progress report with a nurse and gives an order for a medication increase.
“So what happens if you’re like out of the country on vacation?” I ask when he hangs up.
“There’s always someone on call. On the weekends it’s usually other residents. I know which surgical resident is on all this weekend.” He makes a face. “That’s why I asked the nurse to call me.”
I laugh. “So this might be a stupid question, but I’m gonna ask it.”
“Shoot.”
“Med school is hard. Like really hard. So how does a not-so-good doctor get to the point of performing surgery?”
Archer laughs. “I’d like to know that myself. Some people are book smart and might do really well in something like family practice but can’t handle the stress and pressure of anything more urgent.”
“Makes sense.”
“And not all med schools are created equal.” He finishes his coffee and yawns. “We have time to lay down. You’ve already showered and eaten breakfast. Want to go back to sleep?”
I take another bite of eggs and nod. Going back to our conversation about living together is ideal too, but we have limited time and that’s a big topic to discuss. Still, I know I’ll be distracted at work and can’t be held responsible for searching for houses for sale in the suburbs.
“You’re in a good mood. Did you get laid before you came in or something?” Marissa asks a little too loudly. A few others in the breakroom turn and look at me.
“Yes,” I say, noting the surprise in their eyes. I might be a nerd, but I’m not a prude. Obviously. Though as Marissa pointed out this morning, what I know is my baby looks like I ate too much for breakfast to anyone who doesn’t know me. “Archer is in town. Though it’s more than that.” I add granola to my yogurt and grab another bowl to fill with fruit. There were complaints about our breakfast spread being ‘unhealthy’. Instead of pointing out that everyone in the office should be happy we even provide food in the morning, we simply added healthier options. The company has money for it, after all.
Waiting until we’re in the hall and headed to my office, I look around and make sure no one is in earshot. “Archer told me he loves me and wants to live together so we can raise Emma as a family.”
“That’s great!”
“I know!” I smile, feeling my whole heart swell up inside of me. I focus on the happy, purposely ignoring the fact that wanting something doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. We still live miles and miles apart. Archer has no idea where he’s going to end up. He could be in school, so to speak, for another one to three years.
“And we talked about me going back to work after Emma is born.”
Marissa turns to me, face paling. “Are you not coming back?”
“I honestly don’t know. I feel really conflicted.” We go into my office. “I love it here. But I also know I’m going to love being a mom. Archer said he’s happy to provide for us too. I mean, he’ll make a very decent living as a surgeon. It’s not like we couldn’t afford for me to stay home.”
She snickers. “You’d make a good trophy wife.”
“We’re not married.”
“Not yet.” She raises her eyebrows.
“Easy tiger,” I say, holding up my hand. I flip it around. “No ring.”
She laughs. “He’s crazy about you. I could tell just from the two minutes we were together. I bet he’ll put a ring on it before the baby pops out.”
That weird squirmy flutter is back, and I put my hand over my stomach, gently pressing down as if that’ll help me feel Emma moving. “Being crazy about each other isn’t the same thing as having a relationship and getting engaged.”
“I’d ask if you were drunk, but I know how serious you are about avoiding anything bad for the baby.”
I make a face. “Why would you think I’m drunk?”
“Because you’re not making any sense. He’s crazy about you. How is that any different?”
“Because as much as I love Archer—which I really truly do—how can he know this is what he wants?”
“Uh, because he said he fucking loves you.” Marissa takes a bite of her donut. “Stop doubting yourself.”
I nod, putting both hands on my stomach. “I know I am. But I’m trying to be practical. It’s not just my heart on the line here.”
Marissa nods and puts her food on my desk. “Do you think Archer is going to flake out or something?”
“No. I just…” I close my eyes in a long blink. I’ve been keeping this from everyone, even myself, since Archer and I started dating. “I don’t want him to regret this in a year, ya know? I don’t want Emma to think we’re a family and then have us split up.”
“Are you worried you’re going to regret this in a year?”
“No. But I need to be realistic. People who get married just because they’re having a baby together don’t always have the best relationship. We’re not living together. He doesn’t know the bad side of Quinn Dawson yet. While I love to believe I’m perfect, I’m sure there are plenty of little things about me that will annoy him. Like my obsession with cats. Or the way I put off doing laundry until I have to wear bikini bottoms as underwear.”
“Don’t you think he has weird things too?”
“Yes, I’m sure he does. What if they annoy me too much?”
“And what if they don’t? I totally get what you’re saying about people trying to make things work after an accidental pregnancy, but it’s not like you and Archer are some random hookup. You’ve known the guy since you were fucking fourteen years old.”
I take a moment to let that sink in. There’s no one safer than Archer. I might
not know the nitty-gritty, but I know him. I’ve known him for years. And he’s known me.
“You’re right.”
“What?”
“You’re right.”
Marissa smiles and I realize she only asked ‘what’ so I’d repeat myself and say she was right twice. Laughing, I shake my head and pick up my yogurt, wanting to eat the granola before it gets soggy.
“Okay, fine. I do trust him. I’m scared things are too good to be true. He seemed really set on being a family and living together, and mentioning how he’d have a job makes me think he’s leaning away from the fellowship and more toward getting his big-boy job. Hopefully here in Chicago or…or…”
“Or?”
“In Eastwood.”
Marissa’s eyes widen. “Eastwood?”