More of You: The Home Series, Book Two

by Gretchen Tubbs

  He barks out a humorless laugh and shakes his head. “Christ, I picked a hell of a time to stop smoking,” he declares, more to the ceiling than to me. He looks back at me with those dark eyes, which don’t look too happy. “And what do you think I’ll be doing, Maggie, while you and your mom are dealing with our demanding baby?”

  “I don’t know. I know you want to help out, but not with that kind of stuff.”

  “Stuff? Taking care of our child is stuff? And I don’t just want to help out, Maggie. I’m this child’s father. We are doing this together. I thought I made myself clear.”

  His voice is getting louder and he’s attracting a bit of attention. We have a little audience gathering at the end of the hallway. Lovely. More fuel for the gossip fire. I glance at my watch, noticing I’m now late for my shift.

  “Shit, I gotta get behind the bar.”

  “We are finishing this conversation after work,” he says, pointing at me.

  “Yes, sir,” I say, saluting him.

  “Look at this,” Finn says, shoving his phone under my nose as I’m wiping down the bar.

  I huff and stop what I’m doing to glare at Finn. “I’m trying to clean so I can get out of here. Just tell me. I’m not reading all of that.” It’s an article of some kind, and I’d rather not read some bullshit Finn found online. I’m sure it will put more restrictions on what I can eat or what I can do.

  I turn around and start washing a wine glass when Finn blurts out, “We have to get married.”

  And there goes the wine glass. It’s now shattered in miniscule pieces on the brick floor.

  “What the hell are you talking about now?”

  I don’t turn around. I keep washing glasses. I’m panting, getting all worked up over the mere thought of being Mrs. Finn O’Leary. Crazy.

  “Listen to this article, Magpie. It specifically says that children who are raised in a home with two parents are more successful as adults. They become better spouses, they receive better educations, and they make more money. They are way better off than kids of divorced households. We have to do this for our child, Maggie. We have to get married. If not, we will essentially make our child a loser. Do you want to be responsible for that?”

  I turn around. “Relax, Irish. We aren’t divorced, so it doesn’t even pertain to us. Does it say anything about children whose parents fuck in a closet at work and forget to use a condom? That’s the article you need to be reading.”

  “You need to watch that mouth,” he growls.

  “Or what?” I ask, moving closer to the end of the bar where Finn’s propped.

  He leans over on his elbows, putting his face mere inches from mine. I go to back up but he grabs the back on my neck, holding me in place. He pushes his lips against mine. It’s quick and hard.

  “I told you we’re not doing that anymore,” I say, pulling my head back. It doesn’t go very far. He hasn’t moved his hand off my neck.

  “It was just a kiss, Magpie.”

  I try to speak, but it comes out as a breathy exhale. My voice isn’t working right. “It’s never just a kiss with you.”

  He lets me go, walking away with a cocky smirk in place, and I busy myself sweeping the broken glass off the floor of the bar. Too bad I can’t sweep that kiss out of my memory.

  The following morning, Finn comes to pick me up for our monthly appointment with Dr. Redmond. He’s in a good mood when he opens the door for me. His eyes are bright and clear, shining. It’s good to see him like this. I hardly see him drinking anymore. If he still does, it’s at his loft and I don’t know about it. Everyone at work likes to drink at the bar at the end of the night, but he’s been sticking with cokes. He’s stopped smoking, too.

  When I sit down, I feel a piece of paper crunch underneath me. I lift my ass up enough to pull it out from under me. I glance at it as I move to hand it to Finn and laugh when I notice the title. It’s an “article” for me to read.

  Children Who Were Conceived in a Closet Need a Two Parent Household

  By: Finnian O’Leary

  Children who were conceived in a non-traditional manner often have parents involved in non-traditional relationships. Despite this fact, these children need to be raised by both parents in a stable, loving environment with both parents in residence. Research shows that if these children are not given the opportunity to grow up in a house with both the mother and the father present, there could be devastating effects that will last a lifetime.

  The researcher for this article has made recommendations for parents who find themselves in this type of situation. If a child is conceived in a closet at a restaurant where both parents are employed, the mother and father should live together and raise the child together. It is not advised that the mother move back to her childhood home. This could damage the child beyond repair. The ramifications could be shattering, for both the child and the parents. The mother should ask the father to move in to her apartment immediately to avoid such damage, even if the child has not been born yet. Not only are there psychological advantages to this arrangement, but financial advantages, as well.

  “I don’t even know what to say to this,” I say, laughing more than I have in a very long time. I’m crying, but for once, it’s because I’m laughing so much. It feels good. This has made my day.

  “I believe the article gave you specific instructions on what to do,” he tells me, smiling at my reaction.

  I shake my head, wiping the tears away from my eyes. “This is asking for all kinds of trouble. You think divorce will mess up a kid? How about the two of us living together? We don’t have the greatest track record, Finn.”

  “Come on, Maggie. We’ve been getting along great. We can make it work. We’ll do what we need to do.”

  “We need to set some rules. I’m talking non-negotiables, Irish. Hard limits.”

  He laughs. “Look at me. I’m a poster child for rule-breaking.”

  “You’re not helping your case,” I tell him.

  “Sorry. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. You come up with some rules, and I will do what I need to do to follow them.”

  “These hormones must be turning my brain to mush. Why am I even considering this?”

  He points to the article that’s still in my hand. “Scientific Research. It’s all right there in black and white. ‘Devastating effects that could last a lifetime’, Maggie. We can’t do that to our child.”

  “What about your loft? Can you just move out?”

  “I’ll just rent it out to someone. I’ll ask around at work.”

  I don’t say anything, so he keeps trying to convince me.

  “Come on, it’s a good idea. I can help you out with the rent and bills. You won’t have to worry about any of that. The loft rent will cover everything. I want to be there for you and the baby. I want to read to our child every night. I want to help you put it to sleep. I want to do middle of the night feedings. I want to get the baby dressed in the mornings. Please don’t make me miss out on all of those things. It should be me, not your mom. We can make this work, Magpie. We have to. This is important to me.”

  Against my better judgment, I agree.

  Finn is euphoric.

  In yet another lapse in judgment, I let Finn seal the deal with a kiss.

  First stop of the day, the lab downstairs for bloodwork. As soon as they call my name, I start sweating.

  “I can’t do it. I hate needles.” A panic attack is bound to happen any second.

  “You don’t really have a choice.”

  “Come with me,” I tell him. He can’t help but get up and follow. I have a death grip on his arm, my nails digging into his flesh.

  “It’s just a needle, Maggie. If you can’t do this, how are you going to give birth? Have you seen someone have a baby? You should YouTube it. Pretty cool shit.”

  “Are you kidding me? I have zero desire to see that. I’m hoping they will knock me out cold and just cut this kid out. I don’t do medical stuff.”

&nbs
p; He shakes his head. “What happens when our son gets sick? What if he needs stitches or something?”

  I’m sitting in a chair and the lab tech is getting everything ready, putting the rubber tourniquet around my arm.

  “Oh, now it’s a he? What happened to the girl I was having the other day?”

  “Chinese gender chart,” he says with a shrug. “Anyway, boys are rough. So, he’s gonna get hurt, and you’ll need to ‘do medical stuff’. Moms can’t be pussies, Maggie. You’re gonna have to grow a pair and deal with that shit. What if I’m not home during a medical crisis?”

  The lab tech is cracking up. “All done,” she says.

  “No way.” I didn’t even notice that she started.

  “Way,” Finn says, winking at me. “See that, Magpie, I’m pretty useful to have around. I’m a good distraction. Good thing you decided we should live in sin.”

  “You two are a trip. That’s one lucky kid,” she says.

  I give her the strangest look I can muster. Finn and I will probably have the most dysfunctional kid known to man.

  Chapter Nine

  We make our way upstairs to Dr. Redmond’s office suite, but are turned away when we try to check in. She’s in the middle of an emergency C-section so all of her appointments have been pushed back by at least two hours.

  “Why don’t the two of you go grab some lunch and then make your way back over here when you’re finished? You may have to wait a little while, but she should still be able to see you today. Or, we could just re-schedule. It’s up to you,” the receptionist tells me.

  “Let’s just reschedule. When does she have openings?”

  She takes a minute to fool around on the computer. “How about Monday at 1:30?”

  “That won’t work,” Finn says, leaning into the little glass window over me, looking at the receptionist. He’s basically pushed me out of the way. “I’m working. What else do you have?”

  “You do know,” I tell him, “that I can come by myself. I’m perfectly capable of doing things on my own.”

  “I don’t trust you to tell Dr. Redmond about how sick you’ve been. You’ll try to downplay the whole thing. She needs to know about it. You shouldn’t be that sick anymore.” He looks back to the receptionist. “Any other appointments?”

  “Just later in the day that same Monday. She needs to keep her appointment within the next few days. It has to be every four weeks. I’m sorry.”

  He pulls his fingers through his hair a few times. “It’s fine. I’ll get someone to cover for me at the shop. We’ll be here Monday at 1:30,” he says, pulling me away from the desk.

  “Just because I agreed to let you live with me doesn’t mean you get to boss me around, Finn,” I huff, pulling out of his reach and pushing the down button on the elevator.

  “I’m just trying to make sure you’re alright and that my baby is OK. I’m not doing it to be an ass.” He pulls at my waistband, slipping his fingers between the fabric and my skin. The barely there touch sending shivers down my spine. “Now, what’s first? Do you want me to feed you, or do you want to go find some pants that actually fit you?” he asks with a smile.

  We are both loaded down with shopping bags. Finding flattering clothes that don’t make me look like a tent was pretty easy. Finn convincing me to let him pay for them was not. He fought with me at every store we went to. His argument was that since he got me into this predicament he should be able to buy clothes for me. I didn’t say anything to him, but he works two jobs. He wouldn’t do that unless money was an issue. I mean, who would willingly wait tables unless they had to? Finally, I just gave in. This pregnancy is kicking my ass, and I’m too tired and sick to debate with him over money. Next time I need something for me or the baby, I’ll just go alone and pay for it myself.

  As we are leaving yet another store, my phone rings. Not easily, I dig it out of my purse and see Dr. Redmond’s number on the screen. I assume it’s the receptionist confirming my appointment for Monday, so I let it go to voicemail. When it rings again one minute later, I figure something else is up and answer it.

  “Hi Ms. Brennan, this is Susan, Dr. Redmond’s nurse. Dr. Redmond wants you to come back to the hospital so she can see you today.”

  “But I rescheduled for Monday. The receptionist said that was fine.”

  “I know, but the doctor would rather see you now.”

  “Is something wrong? I would rather come Monday.”

  My hands are starting to shake, and I can feel myself starting to get nauseous. Finn grabs the phone and puts it on speaker.

  “Is there a problem?” he asks.

  “Not a problem, but she does need to see you concerning the results of Maggie’s lab results. Can you come back to the hospital? I need to let her know when to expect you so she can be ready to meet with you.”

  Finn runs his hand through his hair. “Uuh, we’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he says, and hangs up, slipping my phone back into my purse. He notices that I’m still a breath away from a major freak out.

  “It’s fine, Maggie. You heard her. ‘Not a problem’, she said. Everything is fine.” He’s trying to reassure me, but I can tell he’s freaking out.

  “If everything was fine, it could wait a few days until Monday. I’ve dealt with this kind of shit my whole life with my sister. You don’t get called back into the doctor’s office over labs if everything is fine. This is not fine. It’s far from fine.”

  “Come on, we need to get going. They’re waiting on us.” He starts walking, but my feet are cemented to the ground. I can’t make myself move.

  “I can’t. I’m scared, Finn,” I whisper.

  He drops his bags and gently grabs the sides of my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I’m scared, too. But we’ve got to go find out what we’re dealing with.” He drops his forehead against mine. “We have to be strong right now. Then, we can go home and not be strong. But not right now. We have to do this.”

  Finn drives to the hospital in silence, while I imagine every scenario that is too scary for me to say out loud.

  We sit in the waiting room, watching a few other people get called before me.

  “Why did they make us rush here and then wait? I don’t understand.” My knee is bouncing up and down, I’m picking at my cuticles, and I’m about to throw up. Finn puts his hand on my knee to stop the movement.

  “I think that might be a good-”

  “Maggie Brennan,” a voice calls from the door leading to the back, and he can’t finish his sentence. He stands up and pulls me to his side. Instead of the nurse leading us to an exam room, she leads us to what I assume is Dr. Redmond’s office. Her various medical degrees and awards are decorating the walls, as well as pictures of the babies she has delivered in the past.

  I hope I have a picture to put up there one day.

  I can’t believe I put that thought out into the universe. My baby will be fine.

  Finn and I sit in the two brown leather club chairs on the opposite side of her desk. It feels like we’ve been called into the principal’s office at school. I can feel my heart pounding all the way up in my ears, my hands are clammy, and my knee is back to bouncing. Finn is fidgeting and flicking at his lip ring. Every few seconds his hand darts through his hair, which is now standing on end.

  As soon as I hear the door creak open I lunge for the garbage can on the side of the desk, dry heaving. Finn darts out of his seat and is on his knees beside me, holding my hair away from my face and rubbing my back. Dr. Redmond rejoins us a minute or two later with a damp cloth, which I use to clean my face. Finn and I get off the floor of her office none too gracefully and get back in the chairs. Finn pulls a ginger candy from his pocket for me, unwrapping it and popping it in my mouth.

  “Maggie, honey, what’s wrong?” she asks in her usual calm, soothing manner.

  “Please, Dr. Redmond, just get to the point of this. Why are we here? Is it me or my baby?”

  She smiles at me and Finn. “Oh, nothing is
wrong. Did Susan worry the two of you?”

  Finn and I look at each other and then back at her. Finn decides to take this one.

  “She scared the hell out of Maggie. Said you needed us to get here today instead of waiting because you were concerned about something.” He rubs my arm then takes my hand.

  I look to her, tears in my eyes. “You’re Lucy’s doctor, too. You know my mind always jumps to the worst possible scenario. I don’t react well to phone calls from doctors and nurses, especially when they are vague like that one was.”

  She pales, realizing why I’m so upset. She’s well aware of Lucy’s medical history. “I’m so sorry, Maggie. I should have called you myself. I didn’t even consider that when I had her call you back here. You must be out of your mind with worry. I promise that won’t happen again.”

  “What you just saw, though,” Finn says, pointing to the trashcan, “happens all the time. She can’t even work it’s so bad.”

  “You should have told me you were getting sick so frequently. I can give you something to help manage it. I will call in something to help you.”

  “Can we get back to why I’m here, please?” I beg, resting my head on the back of the chair. I know she said nothing is wrong, but there’s still a reason that the three of us are sitting in this office right now.

  “Knowing your family history, I like to look at your lab work right when it comes across my desk. I always flag it as high priority so I can get the results from downstairs as soon as possible. I have the initial blood work on file from Dr. Amador’s office, indicating the pregnancy. Then, if you can remember, I had you come in a few weeks later to repeat a blood panel. And, finally, we have what was done just several hours ago.”

  I’m not really sure where she’s going with this. “Is it my kidneys? The genetic markers showed I wouldn’t get Polycystic Kidney Disease. I thought I would be fine.”

  “Your kidneys are healthy. I did notice, however, that your hCG levels are extremely high.” I guess my face shows that I don’t know what she’s talking about, so she keeps going. “hCG stands for Human Chorionic Gonadotropin. It’s the ‘pregnancy hormone’. You are 14 weeks, 2 days. hCG usually tapers off and stops rising around 11 weeks, but your levels are still off the charts, Maggie. When I went back through your paperwork to look at the levels at each of the panels I ran, the increase was at an extreme rate.”