But when I faint one day during lunch, Nathan catches me in his huge arms and there are no more arguments.
“Alright,” he admits firmly. “If something isn’t right, we’ll soon get to the bottom of it,” he tells me, not letting go of me for a second even once the ambulance arrives.
I’ve never been on the receiving end of paramedics, and can only think about my dad and how he must’ve handled his whole hospital stay.
So kind and so polite about everything. I’m trying to brush it off and get back to work but Nathan won’t have it.
He wants me to go to the hospital for a full body scan, check-up. The whole works.
“They’re doctors, honey, they know what’s best,” he assures me once the female paramedic manages to get me alone. Her male partner leading Nathan back through to the kitchen.
“I think this is a little bit of overkill,” I murmur, feeling silly all of a sudden.
As if the phone call, the ambulance coming has made everything else I’ve felt for so long seem so trivial. Almost stupid.
“Maybe,” the medic muses to herself, taking my blood pressure and running a hand over me, here and there. Doing what paramedics do best before asking me in a low voice.
“And is this the first time you’ve had an episode like this during your pregnancy?” she asks, a matter of fact.
“Excuse me?” I gasp, sitting up and clutching at my chest, feeling insulted.
How dare she? How would she-
Oh.
“You didn’t know?” she asks, her eyes shining with kindness.
“I mean, we’ll have to check for sure, but I mean… Girl? You pregnant,” she announces with satisfaction, gripping my hand and smiling with excitement.
Confirming everything I guess I already knew but couldn’t voice out loud to Nathan.
Not yet anyway.
Mainly because I don’t know what or how to do any of this.
My silence in this conversation gets interrupted by the sound of Nathan from the kitchen, and he comes rushing in.
A very confused looking paramedic behind him until he’s brought up to speed by his co-worker.
“They didn’t know,” she shrugs, and smiles at me again, pressing down on my chest so I stay down, telling Nathan it might be best if I went in for some tests.
“I mean, we’re paramedics. But y’all wanna be sure, right?” she laughs.
“You’re doin’ fine honey,” she whispers to me, patting my arm as Nathan darts this way and that, having his own special reaction to the news.
“Just fine,” I squeak, only relieved when I feel Nathan’s arms around us both. Our baby and me.
We both stare in wide-eyed amazement at the ultrasound screen in the hospital an hour later.
“Hmm. A perfectly happy and healthy baby...” the doctor almost announces, but sensing our mood, asks if we want to know now or have it as a surprise.
“A surprise?” I gasp, falling back onto the bed with Nathan’s hand gripping mine.
“I’ve never been more surprised in my life.”
“Or happier,” Nathan smiles, kissing me firmly as his hand presses against my belly.
“Happier or more proud,” he adds.
Extended Epilogue
Five Months Later
Nathan
“Because I’m her father and that’s the tradition. You wanted a traditional wedding? Then the father pays for it!” Paul insists, almost shouting until I produce some paperwork.
I’m nodding patiently, even feeling a part of my jaw twitch where he hit it so long ago and almost willing him to try again as I try and make him see sense.
“Paul. This is the bill so far from the church. The service. The catering…”
I’m laying it out, only because it’s exactly what he wanted to see.
“…The security,” I continue, starting a little as he jumps up.
“Security! What the hell kind of wedding is this?” he gasps, clutching at the papers, his eyes moving down to the numbers before he groans, sinking his head into his hands.
“Oh my god, Nathan. Security? Really?” he asks again, demanding I assure him his daughter and the grandchild she’s carrying is safe.
“Of course they are,” I clip, almost shouting. “And these numbers are within my means, not yours,” I add. Maybe a little too harshly, but it’s true.
“A world-famous author getting married with industry contacts and publishers, media and all the fans who I know want to see Lucy… It just can’t go ahead on an auditor’s budget, I’m afraid,” I tell him again.
“But. But it’s…” he stammers.
“Yes, yes it is,” I whisper hoarsely in his ear, repeating the quoted amount. “And I have a hundred times that, more than a hundred…”
“I just want it to be special for my baby girl,” he groans again, complaining as if he hasn’t done enough already.
I sit myself down opposite him, reminding him what a fine job he’s done raising Lucy and supporting us both in marriage so far.
“Even if you were an asshole for the first three months,” I remind him, smiling to myself.