Page 41 of Capitally Unexpected

My stomach growls, breaking the moment. “God, for once, could my body pretend like it still belongs to me?” I roll over on my back and stretch. Hunter’s eyes follow my movements. I feel it like an extra layer of fabric as the cotton of my sleep shirt rubs across my nipples, hardened by the cold air from the window unit.

“Well, it’s my job to feed that body, whomever it belongs to, so I guess I better get up.” He lingers for a moment longer before pushing up and out of bed. It’s my turn for my eyes to meander over his body.Fuck, my baby daddy is hot.

He catches me staring at his ass as he turns around and smirks at me as he covers up with his shorts.

“So, what’ll it be for breakfast this morning?” His head pops out of his shirt, his hair adorably mussed. “Omelet? Or maybe pancakes and fruit?”

“Yes,” I say, my stomach growling again. I never regained the lost calories from yesterday, but I’m ready to make up for it now.

Hunter’s grin tells me he’s also thrilled my appetite is back. “All right, I’ll get going. See you out there in a few?”

“Try and keep me away.”

He throws me a wink before walking out of sight. I sigh, allowing myself one more moment to bask in the happiness of the morning before rolling into a seated position and getting up to get dressed.

As I walk past the dresser and catch my reflection in the mirror above it, this time, I see a strong woman. One who’s growing a baby and keeping herself healthy while doing the same for it. I don’t see someone who’s a percentile on a chart, or worthless in other’s eyes because of her weight. It’s good to be back. As my body continues to change over the next several months, I’ll be ready to deal with those emotions as they come. But the one thing I know? They won’t be brought on by someasshole doctor who is so small-minded he probably can’t memorize pi past the second decimal.

Hunter’s humming to himself when I reach the kitchen, flipping an omelet in one pan and a pancake in another. Competency kink in full effect, I squeeze my legs together at the thrum that rushes through my lady parts. I wolf whistle to show my appreciation.

The grin on his face when he turns to look at me is contagious.

“How in the world did you put this together so fast?” I ask in disbelief when he puts a steaming omelet on one plate in front of me and a stack of pancakes in the middle of the table.

“While you were napping yesterday, I did some more prep. Figured if the omelet took some coercing this morning, I would have it done in a few minutes before you talked yourself out of it.”

I wince at his accurate portrayal of how I reacted to food yesterday. A moan escapes as I take a bite—the cheese, herbs, and peppers hitting my tongue all at once. Hunter nods in approval before heading to the stove to make his eggs. I force myself to slow down so I don’t get sick and still have some food left to eat with him.

“I’ve come a long way in my issues with food, but yesterday hit all my insecurities and brought them out again.”

Hunter flips his omelet. “I’ve never experienced the need to make a doctor glad they’re surrounded by medical professionals before.”

I’m quiet for a moment before saying. “I think I want to file a complaint, like Jessa suggested yesterday.”

He walks over to the table, somehow balancing his eggs, a bowl of fruit, and some syrup. “I’m really glad you are. I’d never force you—it’s not my place to fight your battles—but how he treated you yesterday is unacceptable.”

I put two pancakes on my now empty plate and drizzle syrup. “You know, if you wanted to hold my battles’ hands behind theirback or something, let me get a good hit in, I think that would be okay.”

His smile is as big as the mega pancake left on the plate he pulls toward him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Monday morning, I get off the elevator onto the floor WUSN occupies. The bustling energy of everyone hustling to get things done between the morning news and the midday edition is a complete contrast to the rest of my weekend. After our breakfast, we snuggled on the couch and finished the movie from the night before, sans in-person strip show. The rest of the weekend was spent meandering to whatever we wanted to do next. We were relaxed, and we were together.

Now, I’m thrown back into the fray of the workday, and for the first time, I find myself not energized by it. Maybe that’s the twenty-first week talking.

“Lewis.”

I whirl around, recognizing the voice of Raymond Bauer, my boss, from down the hall. I stand off to the side, waiting for him to get to me.

“Been keeping an eye on the system in the Atlantic now it’s hit the Gulf of Mexico?” he asks, gesturing for me to follow him to his office. You might think I’d be offended he’d ask, but I’ve learned this is just how Ray starts a conversation.

“Of course. I saw it hit rapid intensification status a few hours ago.”

“The midday projections are here. Take that rapid intensification and keep it climbing.” My phone dings as he sends them over, saving me a few seconds from loading them myself. The wind speeds have increased by sixty mph in the past twenty-four hours. At this rate ...

“Fuck, it’s headed right for Houston,” I say, thinking of how some communities are still climbing out from under the hurricanethat hit last year. “These pressure numbers are dropping several millibars an hour. That’s ...”

“The making of a potential Category Five,” Ray finishes for me. “I want you there. I’ve got a spot reserved for you with a crew who knows what they’re doing to keep you safe. A few other meteorologists, ex-military. You’ll work together, share footage. A major change in weather reporting.”

My mind scrambles. I’m still far under the recommended cut-off date for flying, but the rest of it? Being in the fray of a hurricane, in who knows what conditions? “Who’s going to cover my shifts? Isn’t Elizabeth out on vacation?”

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