A KISS FOR A KISS

by Hunting, Helena

  I pull up the messages, nervous all over again.

  Jake: I know you’re still in the air, but I want you to know that whatever you need I’m going to be here for you.

  Jake: You don’t have to worry about not getting the support you deserve. Emotional, or otherwise. I know you’re a strong, independent (sexy) woman and you’re more than capable of doing this on your own, but I will stand by your side every step of the way.

  Jake: I’ve set up a pregnancy calendar so we can track appointments and milestones in the coming weeks.

  Jake: Flight tracker says you just landed. Checking in to make sure you arrived in Tennessee.

  Jake: I probably look like a desperate stalker at this point with the number of messages I’ve sent. Five hours is a lot of time to think.

  I nearly burst into tears, my relief overwhelming. I didn’t know how much I needed these messages until I read them. I manage to keep my emotions under control as I message to let him know I’ve landed and I’m about to get my car and drive home, but that I’ll text again as soon as I walk in the door.

  It takes twenty minutes to get through the airport, and then I have to find my car, which proves to be more difficult than I expect because I usually take a picture of where it’s parked so I don’t forget. Unfortunately, I was in a rush on my way out of town, so there’s a bit of guesswork involved.

  An hour after I land, I walk through the door to my townhouse and drop my bag onto the floor. I fire off a message to Ryan to let him know I’m home and then do the same with Jake.

  My phone rings two seconds later.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey. I’m glad you’re home safe. Was the flight okay?” Jake’s voice is low and soft.

  “It was good.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  I don’t know how to do this with him now. Everything that was fun and light and easy suddenly isn’t.

  “Hanna, I need to tell you something.”

  “Okay.” My stomach does a flip-flop at his serious tone.

  “I know that we’ve both been through this before, and that it’s a lot different this time. I don’t know how this all feels for you, but if I’m overbearing or overstepping, I want you to tell me, okay? I want us to try to be as open and honest about where we’re at as we can.” Jake’s tone is earnest.

  “I’ll try my best to do that.” I’m already more optimistic than I was when I left Seattle.

  “Good. Me, too. You must be exhausted, so I’m going to let you go, but if you need anything, I’m a phone call away.”

  _______________

  I WAKE UP the next morning feeling like a bag of garbage. I’m very glad I don’t have any meetings scheduled first thing, because I’m not actually capable of functioning.

  I don’t remember the nausea being this bad, although combined with jet lag and stress, it seems to be a pretty horrible trifecta. I find a sleeve of saltines and park myself on the couch, munching my way through half of them while I wait for the queasy feeling to subside.

  Seattle is only two hours behind, but Jake messaged this morning to see how I slept. And to check if I got the link to the shared calendar and if I’ve gotten ahold of my doctor.

  My head is throbbing, likely from the lack of caffeine, but I’m not sure I can handle the smell of coffee yet. I hope this phase doesn’t last long. Cutting caffeine cold turkey will not be pleasant.

  I decide my best plan is to call my doctor again before I do anything else. However, it turns out I’ve slept through a call from them already. And that I happen to have an appointment in less than an hour. It means I only have enough time to throw on some clothes and pull my hair into a ponytail before I’m out the door.

  But I’ve left my purse on the kitchen table, along with my keys, so I have to go back and get those. Then I’m on my way.

  By the time I get to the doctor’s office, my head feels like it’s going to explode. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to stop and grab a coffee, so I’ll have to deal with what feels like a miniature Thor slamming his hammer into my temples until my appointment is over.

  My doctor is a lovely woman named Roxanne Tumbler. She’s in her mid-to-late fifties, and she has three children, two in college and one close to finishing high school. She was over forty when she had her third, so I know I’m in good hands.

  I’m called in right away and take another pregnancy test to confirm what I already know: that there’s a bun in the oven. Once that’s taken care of, the nurse busies herself with weighing me and taking my blood pressure. She frowns when she sees that it’s one-thirty-two over eighty-seven and takes it again. This time it’s one-thirty-five over eighty-nine.

  “Should I be worried about that?” I ask and try not to fidget.

  “It’s on the higher side, and you’re usually right around normal, but we’ll wait to see what Doctor Tumbler says.” She gives me a reassuring smile and leaves me on my own.

  I figure it’s best to wait until after the appointment to message Jake, otherwise I’m bound to create more worry and anxiety where there doesn’t need to be any. Yet.

  But while I wait for the doctor, I send Paxton a message.

  Are you free tonight?

  It takes her less than thirty seconds to get back to me.

  Wine and cheese at your place? I want to hear all about the weekend. Don’t think I didn’t notice the vague texts.

  I don’t say anything about the wine, or my intentional vagueness.

  I’m working from home today, so come over whenever.

  She replies with:

  I’ll head straight there after work.

  I respond with a thumbs-up and tuck my phone back into my purse as Doctor Tumbler slips into the room and closes the door, my file in her hands. Her smile is questioning. “I didn’t realize you were trying to get pregnant.”

  “It wasn’t planned.” Roxanne has been my doctor for a long time. She was there for all the failed pregnancy attempts with Gordon and the miscarriage.

  I can both feel and see her concern as she takes the seat in front of the computer monitor. “Is this a welcome surprise?”

  “I think so. Unexpected, but as long as the baby is healthy, then I would like to proceed.” My biggest fear right now is that she’ll tell me it’s not safe for me to continue with this pregnancy.

  She crosses her legs and faces me. “I know you’re already aware of the risks, but I’m going to be very upfront with you, Hanna. The potential for complications is a lot higher than they were last time. And there’s a significantly higher chance that you could miscarry again.”

  “I know. I’m willing to take that risk.”

  “I figured you would be.” Her smile is soft and knowing. “Do you have a sense of how far along you are?”

  “I think about twelve weeks, or so? If I had to guess, I’d say I got pregnant in early June.”

  Roxanne’s eyebrow lifts. “Twelve weeks? That’s positive. We’ll need to get started on blood work right away. Would you like to test for chromosomal abnormalities liked we intended when you were trying last time?”

  “Yes, absolutely. Barring any extreme complications, I’m planning to keep the baby, no matter what.” I cover my belly with my hand.

  She folds her hands in her lap. “I think you should also keep in mind quality of life. If the child has exceptional needs that could place a high demand on your energy and your resources. You will need to take those things into consideration as well. But one thing at a time. I’ll send you to the lab for blood tests immediately, and we’ll set up an ultrasound as soon as possible. That way we know where we’re at and what we can expect in the coming months.”

  “Okay. That’s good. I’d like to be as informed as possible moving forward.” I’m nervous about the tests, even more so now. “I just want to know if the baby is healthy.”

  “Any cramping or spotting? We’re going to want to monitor you closely, especially over the next several weeks. The lower your stress levels, the better.
Are you doing this on your own, or is the father involved?”

  “He’s not local, but he’ll be involved.”

  “And he’s supportive?”

  “He is.” The messages since I’ve left Seattle have been exactly what I needed but am scared to want. Having Jake’s support is a double-edged sword. It means I’m not alone, but it also means I need to give him a say in what happens. Like one of us eventually having to move if we’re going to co-parent effectively. I recognize there’s a strong connection between losing the last baby and the end of my relationship with Gordon. I’m afraid to count on Jake too much, to get comfortable with the idea of having this baby and then have it all taken away.

  “That’s good. Does he understand the risks involved?”

  “He does. We talked about my pregnancy history.”

  “Okay.” She smiles softly. “This is something you’ve wanted for a long time, so I’m glad you have a supportive partner.”

  “I’m aware this pregnancy will be my last,” I say.

  “You are in great shape physically, Hanna, which is positive, so let’s make sure everything else looks good and we can start planning from there. I’m keeping an eye on your blood pressure, though, since it’s higher than I’d like.”

  We spend the next half hour reviewing all the risk factors, setting up my ultrasound for the following week, and then I stop at the lab to have my blood work done.

  I leave the office feeling slightly more hopeful, but I’m highly aware that the next several weeks are critical.

  Reducing work stress might prove to be a challenge. Especially with my promotion on the table. Although this baby could impact that. It’s not easy to give a promotion to someone when they’re about to take a maternity leave. And I already know that my company only gives new mothers twelve weeks.

  That seems woefully inadequate.

  One thing at a time, though.

  Schedule appointments. Record them in my shared calendar with Jake. Blood work. Talk to Jake. Then meetings. Then Paxton.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  So This Thing Happened

  Hanna

  ON THE WAY home, I call Jake and put him on speakerphone so I can fill him in on what the doctor said and reassure him that apart from slightly raised blood pressure I’m doing well so far.

  “What’s slightly raised?” he asks.

  “The low one-thirties over the high eighties.”

  “What are the implications of that?”

  “As of now? None. But I had a bunch of blood tests to make sure everything is normal. And I have an ultrasound scheduled for next Monday—”

  “I saw that on the calendar. I’ve already scheduled a flight for Sunday night so I can be there. I’m going to book a hotel close to the ultrasound clinic.”

  “Wow. Okay. That’s good.” I shouldn’t be the least bit surprised. Jake wants to be involved, and I appreciate that, as nervous as it makes me. “But you don’t have to stay at a hotel.”

  “I didn’t want to make assumptions or make you uncomfortable.”

  We had that nap on Sunday morning, and when I woke up, Jake was wrapped around me like he often was when we were sleeping together for all those months. I had to slide out from under him, not wanting to disturb him when it became apparent my bladder wasn’t going to wait for him to wake up. I’ve missed that, and I’m not sure how I’ll feel if he stays at my house in the spare bedroom. But having him in a hotel would feel worse, so I offer, but give him an out. “You staying with me wouldn’t make me uncomfortable, Jake. But if you think it’s better . . .” I trail off, letting the sentence hang.

  “I want to do whatever is easiest for you,” he replies.

  We’ll have more time to talk things through, and it would be nice to have the support, even if I struggle with wanting it. “Why don’t you stay here then? With me.”

  “You’re sure?” I can hear the relief in his tone.

  “I’m sure.”

  We chat for a few more minutes and end the call with the promise to talk soon.

  I spend my afternoon on calls with clients, my nerves building as I wait for Paxton to show up.

  She arrives at five-fifteen with takeout from Franco’s, my favorite Italian restaurant. I’m grateful for the pasta Bolognese, because there is no way I can handle eating anything with cream sauce right now. “Sorry, they were out of the deluxe mac and cheese, which sounds unbelievable, but apparently an entire hockey team came through an hour before I ordered takeout and cleaned them right out.”

  “I can see how that might happen.”

  “I also brought a bottle of red to go with the pasta because I figured you’d only have white.”

  “Also a safe call.” I take the bottle of wine from her and she follows me to the kitchen.

  We plate our dinners, and she unscrews the cap on the bottle and grabs two wine glasses. I don’t stop her, mostly because I want her to be sitting down when I deliver the news. I even let her get as far as pouring me a glass. That I won’t be able to drink for a lot of months.

  Paxton props her feet onto the coffee table and flips her long black hair over her shoulder, dark eyes alight with excitement. “How was the weekend? How were things with Hottie McDaddy?”

  That nickname has new meaning now. I set my plate onto the coffee table. The good thing about Franco’s is that it’s even better the next day, so if I can’t eat it now, I can definitely enjoy it later. “I have to tell you something.”

  “Oh man, does this mean you slept with him again? And if you did, it’s totally okay, because from the pictures alone he looks like he’s hard to resist.” She takes a sip of her wine, and I wait until she sets her wine glass back onto the table before I answer. My couch is grey and wine stains suck.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Paxton’s expression remains blank for a few seconds before she throws her head back and laughs. “Oh my God, you had me there for a second.” She slaps her thigh and her fork flips off her plate and lands on the area rug. Thankfully, it’s dark blue.

  When I don’t start laughing, too, she sobers quickly. Her plate joins mine on the coffee table. “Wait, are you serious? How? I mean, I thought you were menopausal?”

  “I am. I was. Apparently, you can still get pregnant, even when you’re perimenopausal.”

  “Holy . . . wow.” Her hand comes up to cover her mouth. “When did you find out? How did you find out?”

  I explain what happened, and how exactly I came to realize and confirm that I am indeed pregnant.

  Her brow furrows. “Didn’t you use condoms?”

  I give her a look.

  “So one of them broke?”

  I scrub my hands down my face. “We went without once.”

  “Once? Holy hell, Hanna. What are the chances?”

  “Five percent, apparently,” I mutter.

  “Wait.” She shifts so she’s facing me, eyes wide. “Does Jake know? I have so many questions. I want to be excited, but I know how hard this has been for you in the past.”

  I crack a smile. “It’s been an intense forty-eight hours. And yes, he knows. But it’s so complicated.” I need this time with Paxton so I can talk this out. Especially since she’s been through this with me before.

  I tell Paxton all about the weekend, from finding out, to telling Jake, and then telling Ryan and his reaction.

  “Ryan will adjust. He needs time.” She sounds so certain, and I want to believe that she’s right.

  “I hope so. I get why it’s hard for him. Everyone he loves and trusted lied to him for a lot of years. He doesn’t like feeling betrayed, and this thing with Jake and me feels like a betrayal.” And he doesn’t truly know how long it was going on for, although I’m sure he and Queenie can surmise if they want.

  “I can see that.” Paxton taps on the armrest. “Does this mean you’re going to move to Seattle?”

  “That’s not part of my plan. Not right now. It’s too early to make that kind of decision when anything can
still happen.”

  “But is it going to be part of the plan eventually? Or will he move here?” She fidgets with the sleeve of her shirt.

  “I really don’t know. My whole world is here.” I don’t want to think about the things and people I’d leave behind.

  “So he didn’t mention it at all?” she presses.

  “He did, but I’m not ready to deal with what that looks like yet.”

  “Okay. We can come back to that later.” Paxton reaches out and squeezes my hand in silent understanding. “Next hard question. Have you told your parents yet?”

  “No. Not yet.” My stomach does a flip-flop. My mom was such a huge source of support when I miscarried last time. She was there to pick up the pieces, and she was there when my relationship with Gordon crashed and burned. But this is very different. I can only hope after the initial shock, I’ll have the same level of support again.

  Paxton makes a face. “When are you going to tell them?”

  I’d like to say never, but that’s not possible. “Maybe I should move to Seattle.”

  She tips her head, pensive for a moment. “You don’t think they’d be supportive?”

  “I want to hope they will be. But it’s the who I’m having a baby with that I think is going to be the cause of the most conflict. It could literally be anyone other than Jake and I think it would be a lot easier to tell them.”

  “Are you stuck on the fact he’s King’s father-in-law?”

  “It’s a pretty reasonable thing to be stuck on.” I reach for my necklace. “And honestly, as weird as the family dynamic is, I think what I’m least excited to talk about is the fact Jake and I were having this secret relationship and I have no idea what we’re going to be to each other now. And considering what happened with my last pregnancy, I don’t know that putting any kind of label on it makes sense.”

  Paxton sighs, her smile sad. “But he’s a great guy, with a great job, and you already know he’s a good parent. He passed up a career in the NHL so he could raise his daughter on his own. Won’t they see that side as well? And you’re an adult. You can have a relationship with whomever you want.”