It wasn’t okay, by some measures, to run off without spilling the pregnancy news. But the words refused to bubble up, so fine. She’d go to the doctor Friday, take the night to absorb whatever info that gave her, and try again after their dinner Saturday.
Super reasonable plan. Didn’t make her twitch with regret at all. Or guilt. Not one negative feeling. Certainly not by the time she was gowned and sitting on the paper sheet of the exam table, legs dangling. Toes curling in her socks, then flexing while she pushed out a breath that did not calm her down. Proof: the way she startled when at the knock on the door.
“So, yes.” Dr. Saavedra raised her eyebrows, watching for her reaction to this confirmation.
Rachel didn’t know it herself. Relief? Terror? Her toes were still curled, for whatever that was worth. “So.”
“Do you need a moment? Or should I launch in with calendars and blood draws and the ultrasound?”
She flexed her toes. “Okay. Sure. Let’s launch. It’s five weeks. From conception, I mean. My cycle ended almost nine weeks ago, it’s never reliable but I looked it all up. And that night was five weeks and two days. The condom broke. I took an EC pill, but ... well, you know better than me how that might not have worked. So.”
She really liked how Dr. Saavedra never interrupted her. Maybe it explained why her words finally bubbled up. And Dr. Saavedra accepted the flood, not even using the time to make notes. Rachel confirmed she hadn’t thrown up or bled or any number of other things in those five weeks.
“Okay, we’ll take a look now. Sometimes people end up on the slim side of statistics. Let’s take today in hand, and go from there.” Then she did lots of typing and bustling and directing Rachel to lie back and such. Then: silence.
Waving a wand around inside her, clicking, staring at a screen. And silence. Machine noises, but no words. Granted she was steeped in a super emotional fog in the early weeks with her Hannah pregnancy. Dealing with that news and the urgency of needing to leave Sergei and the impossibility of supporting herself after all the money he’d taken from their joint account to invest in some friend’s scheme and telling her you’ve never had a head for numbers, Rachel, stop acting like this is a problem. You fucking question me at every turn when you’re incapable of grasping the most basic things. All those vows to cherish and honor me, and you can’t even get a decent dinner on the table on time, never mind understand the details of a business arrangement. So maybe that first ultrasound was super silent and she didn’t remember.
“Dr. Saavedra?”
“It’s looking good. Uterus is good, cord doing its thing. Heartbeat great.” She checked her notes, smiled at Rachel, then went about putting away her ultrasound. “Based on what you said, even with your irregular cycle, you should be a bit over seven weeks. I’m checking my measurements, but that’s not right. The embryo’s too big, too developed. I’m calling it nine weeks, three days. Which puts you back in line with your last menstrual. Does that fit with your experiences? If you conceived about two weeks before the night of the emergency contraceptive?”
Well, there went her toes again. She understood that the subtext was, “Do you feel the same about the pregnancy if it’s two weeks further along than you thought?” But all she could ask was, “Is it dangerous for the baby? The morning after pill?”
“No. It was a great deal of progestin, but well past the time that would have stopped pregnancy. Obviously. The timing was fine.”
She nodded, sinking back enough for the paper under her butt to rustle. “Cool.”
Dr. Saavedra took her relief as confirmation that the essential nature of the conversation hadn’t changed. Which, it hadn’t. Not that every other damn thing was clear to her yet. But confirmation that the pregnancy was real, and healthy, settled something within her. Smoothed down all her prickles, so even her toes managed to relax.
It didn’t ease all those Sergei-snide fears about how Theo would react to the news. Or how she might manage the whole single parenting two preschoolers aspect of her next few years. Or what long-term fallout the decision to keep this baby would have on it, on her, and on Hannah.
But knowing she contained a fast new heartbeat and over an inch of busily multiplying cells working away within her? Even the scariest questions lifted up and away and gave her room, for now, to process one thing at a time.
Almost immediately after Theo opened the door to her, she was gaga for his son. Probably hormones or something. He was ferociously cute, and spent her first three minutes there hiding behind Theo’s legs, big brown eyes sparkling like he was giggling to himself the whole time. By the time he crept out to take the box of toy cars she’d set on the coffee table, he was flirting with her. But still not saying a word. She could tell from Theo’s smirk that he knew the kid was playing her.
Call her a guitar, then, cause Andres had no trouble strumming her heartstrings. By dinnertime, they were all friends. By dessert, he’d offered to give her some of his duplicate Pokémon cards so she could start her own collection. Not too many. But a few. She declined, but it didn’t seem to faze him. Theo left her watching a movie while they disappeared for bedtime.
His mistake. She was more than half asleep herself when he returned. Way too fuzzy-brained to start a serious conversation. Way too lethargic to get intimate. They snuggled and stroked and spoke idly for a bit, long enough to wake her up.
“I should head out.”
“Mmm.” His tongue had other ideas.
“Theo. If you lure me to your room, you’re not getting rid of me tonight.”
He wrapped a leg over hers. “Right.”
She laughed. “So that’s what you want? Your son to find me here in the morning?”
He withdrew his mouth, but his hands didn’t get the message. Her body kept trying to convince her to jump in on the action, too. Ridiculous body. Good thing her mind still knew how to be stern. She scooted to the other end of the sofa.
“I could wake you up early and sneak you out.”
“And what’s your son’s track record on sleeping in?”
“It’s been known to happen.”
“On the morning y’all head to Galveston? When he’s already got his beach toys and boogie board stacked and ready to go by the front door?”
Theo snorted. “That’s my proof I’ve got a real influence on him.”
“Excessive planning? I’d say so. Have you introduced him to spreadsheets yet?”
He rubbed his neck. “Well. I mean. Checklists are so useful.”
This man. Her gut really needed to stop tugging her towards him. They were so much more bound up in each other than he even knew, and until they talked.... She stood. He deserved to enjoy his vacation without all this future hanging over his head. Discussing it now, too tired and too cautious about being overheard by a wakeful child and too close to days upon nights with no follow-up time. No. Bad plan.
“Thanks for dinner.”
“Thanks for dessert.”
“Your son’s super.”
“Thanks, I think so, too.”
Oh, the hidden messages in all their words. She was too sleepy to read it. Dreadful to imagine how much more exhausted she’d be trying converse during the second trimester. She covered her yawn and leaned against the warm welcome of Theo’s chest. “Okay, I’m off. Have a great time on your trip, drive safe. Text me.”
“I will, if you’ll text me tonight when you get home.”
She squeezed him to her. She’d miss touching him so often, now he’d gone and gotten her used to it all the time. “Promise.”
Another kiss. Damn he tasted sweet. Another. Palms on backs. Shoulders brushing. One last kiss.
“I’ll miss you.”
“Have too much fun to miss me.”
Another kiss. “Not sure that’s possible. But we’ll try.”
“Night, Theo.”
He watched her to her car, waved as she pulled away.
Next time they saw each other, everything would change.