Page 26 of Capitally Unexpected

My two-week timeline turned out to be a bit idealistic, but a little more than three weeks after I made Michelle breakfast, I’m crossing the boundary line into DC.

“I still don’t understand why you got a U-Haul when you have like ten boxes, half of which are cooking supplies,” Spencer complains for the umpteenth time in our ten-hour trip that unexpectedly took two days from Holly Ridge. We planned to make the whole drive yesterday, but trouble with the first truck I rented delayed us.

“You know, you didn’t have to come with me.” I grit my teeth and throw up a prayer as I navigate another roundabout on our way to Michelle’s apartment.

“Spend two days of my two weeks off in a smelly truck and cheap hotel room with my favorite brother? I wouldn’t have missed it.”

I’d roll my eyes if I felt comfortable taking them off the road in front of me for even a second during the morning rushhour traffic, but after twenty-eight years, Spencer knows it’s implied.

We crawl forward and another light in front of us turns red, the traffic on the other side of the intersection stopping me from pulling through on the yellow. My grip on the steering wheel tightens and I check the clock for the fifteenth time in the last thirty minutes.

“Relax,” Spencer says for the fourteenth time in the same span. “We’re only a few minutes away. The appointment starts in thirty minutes. Hayden and Jax are already waiting outside the apartment. We’ll get the truck unloaded and returned while you’re at the doctor.”

The less-than-ideal rush hour arrival is so I can make it to Michelle’s second check-up. Spencer’s not wrong about the overkill on the truck size, but neither of us has a car that can pull a trailer. Dad and Margaret offered to lend us their mini-SUV, but something about a thirty-one-year-old using his parent’s car to move in with the woman he accidentally knocked up tasted sour, so here we are. They took the news of the pregnancy and my sudden move really well. Ninety percent of me knew they would, but the ten percent still stuck as the teenage screw up worried this would be the final straw that caused them to give up on me.

“Hunt, dude. Green light.” Spencer points at the traffic light.

I pull the truck through, passing the delivery truck with his flashers on causing the bulk of the back up on this street and we start moving at a normal pace. Moments later, we’re pulling up in front of Michelle’s apartment and into the parking space she reserved for us through the city.

As Spencer promised, Hayden and Jax are standing in the shade created by the buildings this time of day. My heart rate picks up when I spot the red-haired figure completing their triangle. Michelle and I spent time coordinating and checking in over the past few weeks, but hadn’t found a rhythm to talk about the more mundane and day-to-day things. I look forward toexperiencing her day to day. It’s funny how a person could go from someone you wistfully remembered to someone you found again and then to someone you’d miss in the span of a few days.

I hop out of the truck, tossing Spencer the keys over the hood. My hand moves automatically to Michelle’s back. As she turns, I place a peck on her cheek, breathing in her smell. Even though my possessions are boxed up in a moving truck right now, I’m more settled than I have been since I left her the last time.

“Sorry. Traffic was fucking terrible. We need to go, yes?” I say, glaring over the top of her head at the shit-eating grin my twin sports. Like he doesn’t worship the ground Charlotte walks on already. If they decide to have kids, he’ll be an absolute wreck.

“The bus will be here in a minute, or we could walk. It looks like it’ll be about twenty minutes either way with the morning rush,” she says.

“If you’re up for it, I’d rather not get in a vehicle again so soon.”

Michelle nods. “Sure, it’s not too hot yet today. You guys all set to unload?”

Spencer and Hayden hit identical salutes as Jax rolls her eyes. “I’ll keep these two in line. You guys get going.”

Michelle laughs as we set off toward the doctor’s office. Halfway down the sidewalk, she shifts her bag to the shoulder closest to me, hefting its weight up higher.

“Here, let me,” I say, gently tugging on the strap until she lets it slide off her arm and onto mine. “Sheesh, I didn’t know meteorologists used bricks in their work.”

“Wow. Dad jokes already. You’re really leaning into the role,” she says, deadpan.

I shrug, unable to keep the goofy grin from my face. “Gotta start sometime. But seriously, what all is in here?”

“Well, I have some notebooks. Shoes and a change of clothes for after my appointment. I’m hungry all the fucking time right now, so I packed some snacks. Plus, a water bottle because mypregnancy app yells at me about drinking water constantly. And there’s a front moving through later today with a chance to produce severe storms and possibly tornadoes. There’s nothing I can do for the tornadoes, but I packed a pair of sneakers in case of rain. It’s going to be a hell of a day.”

“Wow. That is equivalent to a few bricks, I think. What a weather day to welcome me to DC. How can you tell if the front has tornado potential, instead of only severe storms?”

Michelle launches into a complicated explanation about pressure, fronts, and wind streams, her hands gesticulating wildly. A lot of the terms she uses go right over my head, but I love seeing her so passionate. I make a note to find a good meteorological wiki and study up. I’d love to listen to her talk weather anytime.

Her explanation leads us the rest of the way to the doctor’s office. The waiting room is packed when we step inside, even though it’s not nine yet.

“Shit, it’s busy. I’ll go check-in—grab us those two seats over there? I don’t see any others together.”

I walk in the direction she pointed, speeding up as I see another guy approaching from the other direction. My butt hits the seat, with Michelle’s bag in the one next to me while he’s still five paces away. His eyes narrow, but he gives me a nod. I can tell when game recognizes game.

Women in a variety of ages and various potential stages of pregnancy fill the room. Some are sitting alone, others with partners. I think of Michelle sitting here alone for these appointments. In reality, I know she would have support if she needed it, but fuck, am I glad for barbecues, happenstance, and a touch of fate.

Michelle appears in front of me, and I move her bag so she can plop down. “One of the doctor’s called out sick, that’s the reason for the madhouse. I let them know my work shift starts in a little over an hour, but I know I’m not the only one trying to make it to work on time.”

“Is the station far from here?”

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