Page 61 of Capitally Unexpected

Thirty-two weeks pregnant

It’s been three weeks since my ER trip. Things with Cumulus have felt normal since. Well as much as carrying around a papaya on the front of your body can be normal. I caught Dr. Barber on my first visit after the ER and she spent almost thirty minutes with me, going over the doctor’s notes and taking a look at everything herself. She wants me to continue with the weekly visits and has recommended taking it easy where I can. But she did remove me from pelvic rest.

I haven’t told Hunter yet. He’s been at every doctor’s appointment since, but the first one came via a same day opening I took advantage of when I heard the slot belonged to Dr. Barber. Hunter was on the line with Duncan, canceling his morning meeting when I told him to go ahead and go. He had barely left my side since the ER, and I needed a bit of space for when I talked to the doctor again. I told him everything else. Showed him the new sonogram pictures and breathed in hiscedar scent when he hugged me after I reported the good news. Well, ninety percent of the good news.

I know in my rational brain, Hunter is all in. My heart warms when I remember him painting the nursery, making me watch from the hallway under a blanket and through a mask while he shivered through the cold October day with the window wide open. His meals are becoming comfort food based, while also somehow remaining healthy and full of good things pregnant moms need. The light I put in his eyes when I told him he should partner with an OB to make a pregnancy line of meal plans fought away the cold and rainy grey days we’ve had for the last week.

But I’m still holding back. I keep hearing him say “for the rest of my life” and wondering if the “I” statement interrupted in the ER was “I love you.” Did his emotions from the day get the best of him? Does he really mean it? I want to believe him so badly, but a voice that sounds a lot like my mother’s tells me he’ll withdraw again as soon as I do.

“So, I had another session with my new therapist today.” Hunter kicks off the dinner conversation. Yes, he found a therapist to work through the feelings of unworthiness and fear of failure that caused him to pull away. Seriously, what is wrong with me again?

“Do you still think it’s a good fit?” I ask, moaning around a mouth full of mashed potatoes. Hunter pauses for a second, his eyes drawn to my lips around the spoon. I know I should tell him. But our bodies communicating has never been the problem. It’s our hearts, our brains, and our words that need to get on the same page.

“Yeah, I really am. Weekly sessions seemed like a lot at first, but I’m glad it’s how we’re starting. There’s a lot of background to get through. Duncan had her number a little too ready, given she specializes in unprocessed adolescent grief. It’s like he’s been waiting for this or something.”

“Or he’s seen her himself,” I say mindlessly, watchingHunter’s eyes widen as he processes. “You can’t ask him.” I say immediately, and Hunter nods, his face full of understanding. “But maybe you can mention to him in a few weeks how much it’s helping and see if he wants to share in return.”

“Gosh, you’re smart,” he says, offering me more potatoes and scooping them onto my plate when I nod.

“Decades of therapy myself at work.” Hunter’s eyes fill with understanding. We’ve had some good talks about our childhoods in the past few weeks at the suggestion of Hunter’s therapist. He explained how, growing up, he felt left out, which led to acting out and then branding himself a screw up and a failure. I shared more about my mom’s dating history and how that imprinted some abandonment issues on me his behavior triggered. See, hearts and brains, communicating.

“So, what’s the plan for trick-or-treating tomorrow?” Jax, Preston, and Laurel’s boss, the senator from Rhode Island, tasked his staff with running trick-or-treating at his row house on Capitol Hill tomorrow night. Something about not being able to be in two places at once and not needing the negative press the week before the election claiming he doesn’t care about children.

Hunter lets me change the subject. “We’re supposed to be there at five. Our costumes got couriered over this afternoon.” A bag I didn’t notice when I got home lands on the empty chair between us. “I still sayWizard of Ozis out andWickedis in, but it sounds like your cousin is a traditionalist.” He hands a folded brown fuzzy pile to me.

“She watchedThe Wizard of Ozevery day when we were kids. Took her six months to not hide her face every time the Wicked Witch came on the screen.” I hold up my Cowardly Lion onesie, happy to have something comfortable and simple for Halloween this year.

“And now she’s dying to be green, apparently.” He holds up the plaid shirt, straw hat, and suspenders. His own jeans will suffice for his scarecrow costume. “She’s not serious with this,right?” His hand removes a bundle of hay from the bottom of the bag.

“Deadly, I’m afraid.” I giggle. “And besides, her being the Wicked Witch is where theWickedtie-in comes in. You know everyone shipped Glinda and Elphaba after the movie came out. Making Caitlin play Glinda to her Elphaba feels like some sort of drawn out, public foreplay.”

He shrugs. “I respect the commitment to the bit.”

“Be sure you have that hay sticking out of places you’ll be able to stand it all night. I promise she’ll have backup hay to stuff down your pants if you don’t.”

Hunter shudders. “Duly noted.”

As twilight falls over the city blocks shadowed by the Capitol, children and parents are out in droves. They dart over sidewalks, shrieking in joy at whatever treat they discover in the next courtyard they enter.

I have to hand it to Laurel; everyone looks fantastic. Her green skin paint may forever dye their shower, but it will have been worth it as she stands in a black dress and hat next to her wife, Caitlin, who’s gamely wearing a bright pink dress with her black braided hair gathered in a high pony-tail. Jax’s pigtails and blue checked jumper have Preston looking like he wants to use tin man outfit to power him and Jax right out of there and into bed. When Laurel gives him a hard time about not using the silver face paint she provided, he sagely points out at least one of them shouldn’t have an altered skin color heading into election week.

I sit in a chair and take in the scene. Hunter stands next to the large cauldron full of candy, passing treats out to those who can’t quite reach the lip. He is fully committed, keeping his arms stick straight and bending at the waist when dropping candy into waiting buckets, much to the giggles and delight of the tinyrecipients. A different kind of warmth spreads through my body watching him. Once I’m positive I haven’t accidentally wet myself, I have to acknowledge the feeling for what it is—something a lot like love. Eight months ago, I’d never have dared to dream the handsome, yet closed-off, tattooed man who rocked my world would be gamely participating in a group costume and giving it his all.

Hunter catches me watching him, and flashes a brilliant smile my way, only causing the warmth in my chest to expand. He calls to Preston to take over cauldron duty and plops down in the chair next to me.

“Good call separating Dorothy and the Tin Man there. I worried things were about to get a little bit too adult.”

“Yeah, must be election week stress. Knowing my brother has a thing for handlebars is knowledge I could have lived the rest of my life without.”

I smack him gently. “Calling pigtails handlebars? What are you, sixteen?”

He laughs and captures my hand, keeping it in his lap. His thumb rubs gently across my skin.

“So, next Halloween. You, me, and princess Cumulus. What do you think our group costume should be? Because I’ve made a note of at least five or six ideas from what I’ve seen around tonight. Only we’d be way better at them.”

I stare over at him, watching the open joy on his face as he follows the groups of families and friends on the sidewalk. He must realize I never answered, because he looks at me in question.

“What? Oh. Did you already have an idea in mind? We can do yours, for sure. We have a lot of Halloweens to look forward to.” He presses a kiss on the back of my hand and returns it to his lap, enclosing it on both sides as he brings his other hand to join our embrace.

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