Page 116 of Pieces

“For sure, wouldn’t miss it,” I say as we make our way to the showers.

***

Daphne

The dim light of my desk lamp casts a golden glow over the small space of my dorm room, making the plain walls feel a little less sterile. I’m stretched out on my bed, propped up by too many pillows that never quite make me comfortable. The blanket Hudson got me for Christmas is draped over me. It’s soft against my fingers as I absently play with the edge.

At thirty-three weeks pregnant, everything feels heavier. My body. My eyelids. My emotions. Some days are good. Others feel like this. It’s a wild ride.

I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, a mug of ginger tea that Hudson insisted would help me feel better on my bedside table. The smell kinda burns my eyes. It feels like I’m drinking spicy lake water, and I don’t get how people like it. But I won’t tell him that.

The problem isn’t that I need tea; it’s that my body has apparently decided to rebel against me, and I don’t know what I want. I rub my temples, feeling the telltale throbbing of another headache coming on.

“Are you sure you don’t want crackers?” Hudson asks as he hovers like an oversized golden retriever. “Or toast? What about those little candies they sell for nausea? They’re probably on Amazon. I’ll order them.”

“Hudson,” I groan, dropping my head back against my pillows. “If you keep suggesting food, I’m going to throw something. Probably the mug. Possibly myself.”

He gives me a sheepish smile. “Got it. No food talk.” He flops down next to me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. Hudson always runs warm, and I like that. No, I love that.

“It’s not just the nausea.” I gesture vaguely to my midsection. “It’s everything. My back hurts, my chest feels like it’s hosting a boxing match, and I cried at a dog food commercial earlier. A dog food commercial, Hudson. I don’t have a dog. I’ve never had a dog.”

Hudson’s eyes widen, but he wisely doesn’t laugh. Instead, he reaches over and takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Hey, it’s okay. Hormones are wild. I mean, not that I know from personal experience, but do we need to call Dr. Carter, do you feel unwell?”

I glance at him, my expression softening at the fact he’s always just here helping me. “No, this is just being pregnant. I’m sorry. I know I’ve been…a lot lately.”

“Are you kidding?” Hudson says with a grin. “You’ve let me stick around, even when I’ve been completely useless.”

“You’re anything but useless,” I insist. My eyes sting, tears welling yet again. Suddenly every reassurance and comforting gesture from him and everyone in the last few weeks comes flooding back, overwhelming me. Maybe it’s the hormones or just the weight of everything catching up. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” I admit weakly. ”Everything’s fine physically with me and the baby, but it’s so much sometimes, thinking about what happens next and everything that’s going to be different.” I bury my head into my hands and sob.

“Hey, look at me.” Hudson gently tugs my hands away from my face. “You’ve got this. You’re the most badass person I know. If anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

My heart pitter patters a lot harder when he says sweet things like that.

“I just thought about all the things we’ve not covered, and it felt too much.”

“Tell me,” he says without hesitation. “And we’ll pacify that beautiful perfectionist brain of yours.”

I sniff, wiping the wetness from my cheeks. “What if I go into labor and you’re not here?”

“There’s these magnificent things called phones, I don’t know if you’re familiar with them, but you’d just have to tap a few buttons and I’ll be at your beck and call.” His grin is cheeky and satisfied.

I huff lightly, but anxiety still churns in my gut. “And school? I’ll miss classes and fall behind—”

“We’ll plan around it,” he interrupts gently. “I already talked to my professors. There are resources for students who are parents. We can get notes, recordings, extensions, in case we miss classes when the new semester starts. It won’t be perfect, but we can handle it.”

I nod slightly, but another wave of worry rises. “And what about money, or dorms. We can’t live here with a baby, parties happen most nights, it’s not even big enough for all the stuff babies need and we don’t have anything.” I can feel the heat creeping up my chest in a frantic panic. “Where will we even live?”

“Together,” he answers immediately, pulling me into his arms. “Campus housing for families is full this year, I checked, but I’ve already been saving money. We’ll make it work, find somewhere, I promise. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”

I shake my head against his chest. No he hasn’t and I don’t think he ever will, it’s just not who he is. He’s dependable, honest and kind, and if he says things will work out then I believe him. That lump in my throat swallows down easier, as I inhale his clean soapy scent. For once in my life I let go of the urge to have everything perfectly organized, realizing the beautiful chaos of this baby, our life together, is exactly as it should be.

Tears well up again, but this time they’re from relief, not anxiety.

He pulls me closer, and I sink into his embrace. Warm. Calm. Mine. “Do you want me to find that dog food commercial? We can cry together.”

I sniff and laugh, pulling back I look up at him. “It would totally make you cry, too.”

“I have no doubt. I’m a crybaby.” He shifts so we’re more face to face now. “Do you want a distraction?” he asks.

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