Page 32 of Capitally Unexpected

I didn’t show Dad and Margaret how much I appreciated their support and patience while we still lived in the same state. The nervous feeling returns. I meant it when I said they’ll love Michelle. Pretty sure it’s impossible not to. This time, the nerves accompany a desire for their approval. I’m finally taking chances, trying to be there for someone else and putting myself second. Hopefully, they can see it too.

Michelle moves into my view, setting a three-wick candle on the coffee table. She wafts the air above it. “I hope they can’t smell the match ...” She worries aloud, wringing her hands.

“C’mere,” I say, waving her into my side. I kiss the side of her head. “Thank you for doing so much to make them feel welcome. I think it’s going to be a great visit.”

She looks up at me, a pleased smile on her face, her shoulders relaxed for the first time all morning. They press up toward her ears again as there’s a knock on the door.

Before I let her go, I need to say one more thing. “Also, after they leave in a few days. I think we should go on a date.” With that, I step away to open the door.

“Hunter!” Margaret exclaims, holding a bouquet of flowers and a reusable bag full of who knows what. She thrusts the flowers at my dad, so she has a free hand to give me a hug. It took me a long time to accept her hugs after she and my dad got together. She never pressed me or made me feel bad about it, but in the tightness of her squeezes now, I sense the desire to make up for those years when she had to love on me from afar.

“Hi, Margaret. Dad,” I say next, the bouquet of flowerstapping me gently on the back as Dad gives a hug of his own. “How was the trip down?”

“Oh, you know the train,” Margaret says. “We got in later than expected last night, but Duncan had a car waiting for us. The hotel is too much, but that’s your brother.”

“I’m pretty sure the hotel and car are to make up for your insistence on taking the train,” I say. “He would rather you let him fly you, first class.”

“Psh, I know. I did enough flying everywhere when I worked. Now, I want to take my time, enjoy seeing the world around me.” Margaret was a fierce businesswoman, having a stake in several patents she sold off when she retired. Now, she refuses to give up her more leisurely travel methods if she can help it.

A cough sounds from behind us. Michelle has a horrified look on her face when I turn around and I can only imagine she needed to cough for real but is afraid we think she was trying to remind us she’s here. Like I could ever be unaware of her presence when we share a room.

I step back to stand next to Michelle. “Michelle, this is my dad, Stephen, and stepmom, Margaret. Dad, Margaret, this is my Michelle.” She looks up at me in surprise, but I simply squeeze her waist. I didn’t stop to think when it came time to make the introduction. Now I know she’s open to more, I don’t care what word falls between. As long as she’s mine.

Chapter

Fourteen

Michelle

Seventeen weeks pregnant

Mich,

Throw on something comfy. We’ll be walking a little bit and be outside, but with airflow.

I’ll be back at 5:30. We’ll leave then.

Hunter

Iread the note over once more, excitement tingling in my stomach. Wait, was that excitement? I pause for a second, hand on my stomach, hoping it isn’t the beginnings of the second trimester morning sickness I read about on the bus this morning. After a beat, I’m more certain of my excitement assessment and go to my room to change.

Right after Hunter’s parents’ visit, the winds shifted and smoke from wildfires in Eastern Canada started to float into the atmosphere of the East Coast. This meant divinginto extra posts and videos for the station’s weather blog, sharing apps to check air quality, interviewing experts, recommending masks, and keeping folks updated. Typical American attitude, not paying any attention until something impacts us.

With all his busyness, Hunter hadn’t mentioned the idea of us going on a date again. At least I assume that’s why it didn’t get brought up and not because he changed his mind. But the winds had shifted again over the weekend, and last night, he asked for my schedule in the evenings this week.

It feels a little silly, to be so eagerly anticipating spending time outside the apartment with someone I spend hours with everydayinsidethe apartment. I decide not to examine it too closely and get changed. Some relief from the oppressive DC humidity also arrived today, right on schedule with my forecast from last week. Still, with a human inside me the size of an orange, I seem to experience temperatures in a different way than the rest of the world. I’m a little nervous about spending so much time outside, but given Hunter’s promise of airflow and the sun setting in a couple hours, I’m ready to risk it.

I’m examining my outfit of black biker shorts and tank top, trying to decide what to do with my hair when the door opens at the front of the apartment.

“Hello?” Hunter calls.

I look at the clock on my bedside table. “You’re seven minutes early. I’mnotlate.”

He appears in my doorway, hands behind his back. “You’d be worth the wait, but you’re right. Trains and cross walks were in my favor.”

“What grocery stores did you map out today?” I ask, moving past him into the bathroom. He angles his body to keep his back out of my sight.

“I did a few in Chinatown this afternoon. I needed to swing by Duncan’s office to grab our tickets for tonight.”

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