Page 35 of Capitally Unexpected

The air in the waiting room changes, and I look to the door to see Hunter standing just inside it, looking for me. A smile lights up his whole face once he spots me and moves through the crowded room of babies and pregnant individuals. My chest warms at seeing him arrive. I told him not to change the feedback session he and Hayden had scheduled with app beta testers for this morning, since the first few hours consisted of me sitting around and getting poked. He insisted on being here for the final results with the doctor though, as well as making sure I got fed immediately afterward.

“Hi,” he says as he plops in the chair next to me, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“Hi,” I say back, squeezing his knee affectionately. Gosh, he looks handsome. And that’s not only the glucose test hunger talking. It’s like I summoned him with my thoughts of his penis. Nothing has progressed physically, which I know has a lot to do with my comments earlier in July. But I’m getting to the pointwhere I want to start mixing the new closeness we’re finding with the stuff we know already works.

His presence calms a part of me worried about the results. Hunter’s been doing research on adjustments to make to his meals for us, if need be, and knowing I won’t navigate the results alone is a relief.

“So, what kind of grey and neutral decorating scheme have the brothers developed today?” Hunter asks, right before the call of “Lewis?” comes from a nurse in pink scrubs.

“Luckily, it’s very grey and very neutral,” I say as we walk toward her. “You didn’t miss anything.”

We follow the nurse into an exam room, where she tells us the doctor will be in to talk to us soon.

“Who are we seeing today?” Hunter asks. His hand falls on the uterus model sitting on the desk before he realizes what he’s touching and pulls away.

A giggle escapes. “Careful, we wouldn’t want to be known as the couple who spills things on the floor most times we’re here. We’re seeing Dr. Jameson. It was supposed to be Dr. Simon, but I guess things got switched around. I couldn’t get enough service to look up Jameson, so I guess we’ll see.”

Hunter’s staring at me, eyes wide.

“What’s up? Oh no, have I had glucose solution on my face this whole time and no one’s told me?” I rub next to my mouth.

He shakes his head. “No, you called us a couple ...”

I open my mouth to respond but knuckles rap on the door before I can.

“Come—”

The door pushes open before I can finish my sentence and my stomach plummets as a man about my age enters the room. He takes one look at me, his eyes tracking to Hunter’s tattoos, before he sighs with a haughty air.

“Dr. Jameson. You’re Michelle Lewis?”

“Yes,” I say, uncertainty lacing my tone.

“I see you’re here for your three-hour gestational diabetestest. I’m going to assume given everything”—he gestures at all of me—“the results are going to be positive for this one as well, but I’ll go grab the labs. Be right back.”

Hunter looks between me and the door in shock, all memory of the conversation the doctor interrupted blown away. “Did he really just? He can’t . . . I mean, he’s here to help you, and then he ...” Hunter continues to have his head implode at the doctor’s introduction.

I blow out a shaky breath, forcing myself to breathe in and out at a normal pace. Fuck. “He can. Welcome to fatphobia in the medical community.”

“But he didn’t look at your file to know your blood pressure, previous blood work, everything else is healthy. Plus, he would know plenty of people fail the one-hour test and have normal results with the three-hour.” Like I said, he’s done his research.

I try to appear nonchalant, sensing Hunter is getting worked up, and I don’t want him to know how much this still rattles me, even after almost forty years. “For some people, appearance tells them everything they want to know.”

“Well, I’m going out there, we can see another?—”

Another knock at the door, followed by an immediate re-emergence of Dr. Jameson, cuts him off. The doctor shuts the door behind him, almost hitting the nurse following him into the room in the face. Her carefully neutral look tells me everything I need to know about this guy. He’s an asshole, and everyone knows it. I better buckle in.

“Well,somehow, your glucose numbers are in a normal range. You’re sure you fasted all night and drankallthe solution?”

Hunter moves next to me, and I sense his mouth is about to open, so I grab his wrist. “Yes, I’m sure. I was happy to follow your practice’s recommendation and take the tests early, but I’m not surprised by the results. Especially during my pregnancy, we’ve been following?—”

“Hmph.” He cuts me off. Hunter’s arm grows tenser under my hand. “I’m not interested in your home remedies. I’msurprised you got pregnant in the first place, given your advanced age and”—he makes a gesture indicating to everything about me again—“but I guess luck is on your side. Now, about the weight you’ve gained since being pregnant ...”

“Anything I’ve gained is within the norms of a woman for my BMI at twenty weeks,” I say, trying to keep my voice strong. This asshat doesn’t deserve to hear he’s getting to me, cutting right to my core. I’d learned long ago weighing myself regularly isn’t something that served me, so keeping closer tabs on it during this pregnancy is already grating on me.

“Well, that may be, but you’ll never get it off again once you’ve given birth. I guess you can stop by the desk for some meal planning resources. I’m not sure they’ll meet your appetite, though.”

I recoil like I’ve been struck.

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