Page 56 of Capitally Unexpected

Twenty-nine weeks pregnant

Hope can suck it.

I throw my phone on the twin bed in Hunter’s room.

Hunter

Sorry, a meeting came up I can’t miss. Can we do the nursery this weekend?

I ignored my mother’s voice in my head calling me a nag when nothing changed after the bathtub moment and started asking if we could work on the nursery. Which involves getting rid of the bed Hunter’s been insisting on sleeping in. If that’s why he’s dragging his feet, or something else, I don’t know, because he won’t tell me. I’m afraid I’m close to a breaking point where I’ll need to decide whether it’s healthy to have him living here anymore.

My heart hurts at the thought of him leaving and spurs me into action. No, Hunter, we can’t do the nursery this weekend. We’re doing it to-fucking-day.

I stand with my hand on my hips, looking at his bed. My gaze lands next on my belly.

Okay, we’re doing what I can do on my own right fucking now. If that means it smells like paint fumes while he tries to sleep, so be it. I tuck my phone into my sports bra and survey the room.

Hunter did clear one wall of furniture, so I decide that’s the wall I will paint. I manage to lay out a drop cloth and pray I don’t drip on the carpet, because there’s no fucking way I’m getting down there to tape it to the baseboards.

Part of my mind recognizes I’m making irrational choices right now. I’m going to do a shitty painting job not fully prepping and may create more work in the end. But ask me if I fucking care. I need to dosomething.

I’m bending to pour paint into the tin when the pain hits. A cramp in the lower part of my bump. I straighten, twisting a little bit this way and that, hoping to work it out. The pain flares again.

Okay, no painting. Too much bending.I abandon the open paint can and the tin to be dealt with later and decide to move to the dresser. We’ve gotten a few things for Cumulus so far. I’ve washed them, but they’ve been sitting on top of the dresser since Hunter’s clothes are in the drawers. Time to put them away.

The top drawer slides open and I scoop up an armful of boxer briefs, intending to throw them on the bed. They fall to the floor at my feet as the pain appears again, the sharpest yet.

Maybe it’s gas. I should try to go to the bathroom. Plus, then, I’m sitting. Win-win.

I walk slowly to the bathroom like any sudden movements may trigger the pain again. I pull down my pants, sit down, and then I see it. A spot of red on my underwear. A smear appears on the toilet paper too.

“Okay, okay. Don’t panic.” It’s time to talk out loud to myself. I pull my phone out and call Hunter. As it rings, I reflect onthough things are weird and tense, he’s still the one I call first. Voicemail.

I try one more time, hoping to break through Do Not Disturb if it’s on. Voicemail after the second ring.

My jaw clenches. I send a text, asking him to call me as soon as he can. I dial a different number.

“Hello?”

“Jax, you answered. Thank fuck.”

“Michelle? What’s up? Where are you? It sounds all echoey.”

“Well, I’m . . . I’m in my bathroom. And ...” My voice shakes.

“I’m on my way. Keep talking.”

“I had a couple pains in my stomach, and now there is some blood. Not a lot, but a little, and everyone knows that’s not good ...”

“Just stole a cab from the Speaker of the House. Senator Marsden’s going to hear about that one tomorrow. Why don’t you get changed, grab your insurance card, and wait for me on the couch, okay? I’m going to tip the driver fifty if he gets me there in fifteen minutes.” A horn blares on Jax’s side of the call. “In fifteen minutesalive,” she emphasizes.

A near traffic accident shouldn’t be funny, but I find myself laughing.

“There’s my girl,” she says. “I’ll be there soon, okay?”

Twelve minutes later, Jax is opening my door, using the access code I sent her for the front door. “You don’t always leave this unlocked, do you? Of course not. You unlocked it before you sat down. Okay, ready to go? The cab is waiting. I told him we’re not playing the speed game on this trip. Don’t worry.” She wraps her arm around me and locks the door behind me as quickly as she entered.

“Thank you, Jax.” It’s hard when your social circle has suddenly become people who are connected with your going-through-it boyfriend and you don’t know what you should orshouldn’t say. Still, the second she knew something was wrong, she dropped who knows what and got here.

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