Page 37 of Capitally Unexpected

All thoughts of sexiness leave my mind at the reminder of how the day started. Fuck, I hate he saw that, heard that. There’s a good chance he’ll see some pretty weird stuff by the time this baby is born, but that’s natural. According to Dr. Jameson, there’s nothing natural or redeeming about my size, and that cuts right to the core of me.

I shrug. “I’m okay, I guess. The nap was necessary.” I play with the comforter in my lap, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m thinking of making burrito bowls for dinner. Penzeys sent some spices over, including a mix for taco meat, so I want to try it out.”

“Sure, sounds fine. You know I’ll like whatever you make.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t get your bowl this afternoon after the appointment, so I thought I could make up for it. I’m no District Taco, but I can whip up a mean queso.”

I nod, still silent.

He stands there for a moment longer, the air heavy with intent on his side. I can tell he wants to say something else, but isn’t sure what.

“All right then, I’ll get working on food. Should be ready in about twenty-five minutes or so.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I say. “I’m still waking up.” I put on a smile that feels fake from tip to tip. The look on Hunter’s face says he isn’t much more impressed by it.

“No hurry. See you out there in a few.”

He raps his knuckles twice on the top of my dresser and turns toward the kitchen. The apartment fills with sounds of him putting pans on top of the stove and getting ingredients out of the refrigerator.

Knock it off, Lewis. You love queso. You love yourself. You’re not going to let a miserable asshole and his biases keep you down.

Maybe if I wash off the memory of the day before dinner, I’ll feel better. I grab what I need from my room and set it in the bathroom before walking out to let Hunter know my plans.

His arms flex with the speed he chops peppers and onions on the counter. For a moment, I watch him, mesmerized by the skill and care he puts into simple tasks. I really should volunteer to help more, though the last time he had me cut something, he took the knife out of my hand two seconds later. Something about me needing all ten fingers for “Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

He looks my way a moment later. “Hey there.”

“Hi. Something smells good out here.”

“New spices pass the smell test. Check.” He gives me a soft smile. One that says he knows he’s being over the top, but he’d love to see me smile too.

“I’m going to get a quick shower before we eat. Want to wash away the day.”

“Definitely. Be sure you don’t wash away your appetite.” He winks, and I laugh.

“The dad jokes are becoming more regular, you know.”

Shrugging, he says, “I’m not going to fight it. See you in a few.”

As the hot water sluices over me, I let the lavender scent of my body wash unwind some of my tangled thoughts and the warmth undo some of the tension in my shoulders. Still, when I get out of the shower, my eyes avoid the mirror as I get dressed. Today is a day for being gentle, and tomorrow is a day to claw back my appreciation for all my body does for me, and now for little Cumulus. This is simply a setback.

I braid my wet hair in a long plait behind me, not wanting to bother drying it. If there’s anyone who can make me feel better, just by sharing space, it’s Hunter. My stomach growls for the first time since Dr. Jameson stole my appetite, and I head out to the kitchen to enjoy dinner.

Chapter

Sixteen

Hunter

Twenty weeks pregnant

My knife sticks in the cutting board slightly with the unnecessary vigor I’m chopping these vegetables with. I put the knife down, grip the countertop, and hang my head. I want to wring that doctor’s neck for not only his irresponsible bedside manner, but for the lasting impacts it’s had on Michelle’s mood. I know the confident, strong woman is in there, but I don’t know what to do to help bring her back out. My tattoos bring their own sort of biases with them, but I know enough to know it’s different.

Michelle comes out from the shower more relaxed than before it, but she still isn’t her normal self. She sits across from me, a more genuine smile on her face than the bullshit she tried to pass off earlier. Still, her eyes are dimmed, her shoulders more sagged.

“So, tell me more about this Penzeys spice thing?” She’s giving a masterclass in deflecting right now, keeping the conversation flowing in a direction opposite of her feelings.

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