Page 27 of Capitally Unexpected

“It’s not too bad by bus. A bit of a stretch for a walk.”

“If we need to, I’ll order you a ride share.”

“Or I can order my own ride share if I need to,” she says, leveling me with a look. A look that reminds me Michelle has been living on her own for a long time, and while she’s willing to accept me as part of this, she’s not willing to entertain a hero complex. That’s fine. I’ll put away my lance and steed for a time when we need them.

“Lewis?” A voice from the door calls.

“That wasn’t too bad,” I say, trailing behind her as we pick our way through outstretched feet and strollers.

“Said from the perspective of someone who hasn’t sat under an air conditioner in a thin exam gown waiting to have your vagina held open by cold metal.” The nurse we pass at the desk through the door snorts.

“Am I right, or am I right?” Michelle says.

“Oh, you’re right,” the nurse responds.

“Understood. I’m a young Padawan in the gynecological world. I’m ready to learn and observe.” I watch Michelle try—and fail—to stifle a laugh. Glad to know she appreciates my sense of humor.

We’re ushered into a room where I stand along the wall while a different nurse takes Michelle’s vitals and asks her questions. I see her making note of Michelle’s morning sickness frequency and hope the doctor will address it. I have some questions of my own, but I’m getting the vibes I’m to be seen and not heard while we’re in these walls.

The nurse grabs a cloth gown from under the exam table. “Go ahead and put this on. I see you requested an external ultrasound today, so I’ll grab you a blanket too. Do you want your um ...” the nurse’s eyes flash to me, seeming uncertain of our relationship.

“Baby Daddy?” I helpfully interject, causing Michelle to groan and cover her face. Definitely a seen and not heard vibe now.

“This is Hunter. He is the baby’s father and my new roommate. And yes, I’d like him to step outside.”

“Let’s go, Hunter,” the nurse says. I follow her, reminding myself Michelle’s clinical description of our relationship, while accurate, is meant to inform, not to hurt my feelings. All the same, I mentally move up a conversation about how our roommateship will proceed.

I hear the door creak behind me. Michelle peaks her head out. “You can come back in now.”

I wait a beat to let her get away from the door and enter to see her climbing up on the exam bed, her legs covered in a sheet. We sit for a few minutes, the sound of people walking up and down the hallway on the other side of the door the only thing keeping us from sitting in complete silence.

“So, how’s your new project going?” I ask, wanting to break the awkwardness. If our walk here proved anything, Michelle is always willing to talk about the weather.

“It’s really great. We soft launched the blog last week and are going to film the first videos to post later this week. There hasn’t been a ton of traffic yet, since we aren’t promoting it anywhere, but the feedback we’re getting is positive. It’s great to have the chance to do the type of weather reporting I came to DC to do.”

“What kind of reporting is that?” I ask, glad the tension in the air disappeared.

“Honestly, a lot like the stream of consciousness you got about storms and tornadoes on the way here. More scientific, more detailed. I started out with my forecasts trending in that direction but got somefeedbackviewers weren’t connecting with me. I should have known; pretty, smart,andfat as a woman is too much for some people to handle.”

“What?” I splutter. “You’re, you’re not ...”

She holds up her hand. “Hunter. It’s okay. The way I’m saying it, there’s no derogatory meaning behind it. It’s like saying you’re tall, or someone else is thin. Being in an on-air position like I am means I’ve heard pretty much every opinion under the sun aboutmy body. Growing up female in high school helped prepare me too. I’m healthy and Ilovemy body.”

I sit and absorb what she’s told me for a moment, my eyes never leaving hers. I find myself nodding. “Okay. That’s . . . that’s good to know. It’s going to take me some time to unlearn the way society uses the word more often, but I want to do it. Because, as you may recall, I loved your body too.”

Michelle’s cheeks tinge pink. “Breezing right past that for now. While we’re on the subject, sometimes in places like this”—she indicates the exam room we sit in—“people will try to ascribe unhealthy connotations to the word. I have a lot of practice shutting them down, but I want you to be prepared.”

I open my mouth to respond.

“Prepared to hear it. Not prepared to respond.” She cuts me off. “I can handle it.”

“Understood,” I say. There’s so much about this woman that amazes me. I can’t wait to keep learning about her.

A knock on the door indicates the arrival of the doctor. A woman with brown hair walks into the room, and Michelle’s face lights up.

“Dr. Barber,” she says, her voice excited. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Hi Michelle,” the doctor says warmly, sanitizing her hands from the station inside the door. “Dr. Patton is the one who called out sick today, so we’re divvying up his morning appointments and rescheduling as many of the afternoon ones as we can.” Her eyes move to me. “And who do we have here?”

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