Mrs. Crawford thanks me over and over, and saves my email address in her phone. Archer and Dr. Crawford are still talking about surgery and difficult patients. I get back to shopping, purposely taking my time so Archer has more time to talk with the doc.
We’re finally on the same page. In love, wanting to raise Emma as a family. I don’t think marriage is that far off, though I still want Archer to take his time and make sure this is really what he wants to do.
My mind jumps ahead of me, to accompanying Archer to fancy dinners with the Crawfords. We’re married and have at least two kids at home. Mrs. Crawford talks to me about MIT, and Archer and Dr. Crawford compare days in the OR.
I blink and shake my head. I don’t do fancy dinners like that. I’ll go out on a hot date, don’t get me wrong, but playing the pretentious wife—yeah. That’s not me. I like designer shoes and purses, with the occasional accessory thrown in, but that’s not me and it never will be.
I’m small town born and raised, coming from a large family who had to cut corners and coupons to get by. My dad’s business didn’t take off until my senior year in high school, and when I sold that app, I had no idea what to do with all the money.
I paid off my student loans. And Dean’s. And Logan and Owen’s. Weston’s were taken care of thanks to the US Army, but I would have paid those off too. I gave myself an allowance and then stuck half the money in a savings account and had an investor help me with various investments. It’s nice having disposable income, I won’t lie, but the fancy, stuck-up, I’m-better-than-you-because-I-have-money life isn’t for me, and I sure as hell won’t let Emma grow up thinking that.
Several minutes later, I go to the register and pay for a new pair of shoes. Archer comes up behind me, followed by the Crawfords.
“If you change your mind about the fellowship, you should consider applying at Northwestern,” Dr. Crawford tells Archer. “I’d love to have a surgeon like you on my team.”
“I will consider that. Thank you,” Archer tells him. They shake hands, and Mrs. Crawford thanks me again. Archer keeps a neutral face until we exit the store and make it a good few yards away.
“I have a good feeling about this fellowship now,” he says with a smile.
“Me too. I know it’ll be crappy hours again, but if you’re here, it’ll be okay.”
He tips his head down to mine, pressing a kiss on my forehead. “Yeah. It will be.”
“Now this is fucking awesome.” Archer goes to the edge of the rooftop, making my anxiety shoot up, and looks out over the city. There is a patio on the roof of my building, and while it’s usually occupied, we’re some of the only people up here right now.
“It is. But, uh, can you come away from the edge?”
Archer places his hands on the thick cement railing. It comes up past his waist but still makes me nervous. “Does this freak you out?” he asks and leans forward just a bit. I squeeze my eyes closed. He laughs and comes back. “Babe, I’m fine. But I won’t scare you. Raising your blood pressure isn’t good for Emma.”
“So when I’m not pregnant you plan to freak me out?”
“Oh, totally. I might pull a Michael Jackson and dangle Emma off a balcony or something.”
I swat his arm, pursing my lips. “I would kill you.”
He laughs again. “How’d you do it?”
“It’d probably be a messy heat-of-the-moment type of kill.”
“One of the benefits of being a doctor is knowing how to kill people and have it be untraceable.”
“That’s the whole reason you went to med school, isn’t it?”
“Yep. That’s what’s in that storage locker, but the way.”
“Ah-ha,” I laugh. The first time I stayed with him in Indy, I joked about going through his personal possessions, but the majority of incriminating evidence was stored away. “I knew it.”
He pulls the blanket around us both and holds me close. We brought the cheesecake to the roof to eat and haven’t gone back inside yet. It’s breezy and cold up here tonight, making it perfect for snuggling.
“I miss the stars,” I say distantly, looking up. “I don’t see them too often here.”
Archer moves my hair back out of my face. “You miss Eastwood, don’t you?”
“Yes and no. I miss my family and that small-town feeling, as lame as that sounds. But I like it here.”
I like it here because I like my job…which takes me back to the whole being a stay-at-home mom or not. If I decide to stay home, then I’d like to move back to Eastwood. I have Marissa here and a few others from work that I hang out with occasionally, but that’s it. Would I be lonely? I can’t see myself joining a moms group or anything like that, and there’s only one other couple with a baby in the building. Everyone else who lives here is either single or much older.
“I like Eastwood,” Archer says. “And it’s not lame to like the small-town feeling. I like it too. Ever since I was eighteen, it’s had this sense of safety for me. For obvious reasons.” He exhales heavily. “Going back is always a reprieve.”
“Yeah,” I agree, mind whirling. If I lived in Eastwood, I’d have my whole family around to pitch in with Emma too. Mom took Jackson one night a week when he was a newborn to let Wes and Daisy catch up on sleep. Daisy was already on the verge of flaking out, but that one night where she and Wes got to sleep without interruptions probably kept her from going crazy sooner rather than later.
I’d have built-in babysitters when Archer and I went out on dates. Mom would be just minutes away and able to come over whenever I need her. Other than family, there are other reasons I loved Eastwood growing up, and the pro and con list is heavily skewed with pros.
But the hospital in Eastwood is half the size of the one Archer is at now. He wouldn’t be happy there.
“Getting tired?” he asks.
“Kind of. I’m feeling sickly full.”
“Me too. I shouldn’t have had that third piece.”
“I could hardly finish my one and only piece,” I say with a laugh.
Archer kisses my neck and goosebumps break out along my flesh. “Let’s go in.”
He gathers our stuff and I stand, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders. We go back into my apartment and strip down to our underwear and get into bed.
Archer is leaving in the morning, and we won’t see each other again for another week. He has to work next weekend, but I’m coming down to see him anyway. I want to have sex since it’s going to be a good while until he’s naked and on top of me, but dammit, I’m tired.
Yawning, I nestle against my pillow. Archer takes me in his arms, pulling me against his chest. I resituate and listen to his heart beating, slow and steady.
“Babe, if you’re tired you should get ready for bed.”
“I’m not tired,” I grumble.
“Convincing, Quinn.” He tightens his hold on me and kisses me again. “Come on. You’re going to have an even harder time getting up if you wait.”
“I know. I don’t want to stop snuggling.” I let out a breath, knowing he’s right. He gets up first and helps me to my feet. I’m feeling a little sick again and get ready for bed as quickly as possible. I cuddle up under the covers, waiting for Archer to get in bed.
He’s sitting on the side of the bed, checking something on his phone.
“Want to know something pathetic?”
“Sure,” I answer, opening my eyes.
“I have a week of vacation in late October. I forgot about it.”
“How do you forget about vacation?”
“I scheduled it at the beginning of the year. We should do something.”
That perks me up. “Like what?”
“Go somewhere. Just the two of us. Are you able to get off work?”
“It’s a month away, so it shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t take vacations often either. We could go on a babymoon.”
“Babymoon?”
“It’s a word that basically means a couple goes on vacation bef
ore the baby is born. A last hurrah, if you will.”
“I like that. What about Hawaii?”
“Heck yes! Have you been? I haven’t.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve always wanted to go. Or we could do Disney. Oh wait, you can’t do rides. I’ll still go if you want to though.”
“I’d be sad not to go on Tower of Terror and Space Mountain if I’m in Disney. But I do think we should take Emma there for her first vacation.”
“Sure. You can pick where to go. As long as I’m with you, I’m happy. Also, I don’t have a passport.”
I laugh. “Get one. Aruba is gorgeous and not in a hurricane zone. Fall is hurricane season for a lot of tropical places.”
“Good point.” He turns off the bedside lamp and spoons his body around mine. “Pick a place and give me the info. I’ll book everything.”
“Hawaii sounds so nice. Laying on the beach in a bikini is my kind of a vacation.”
“Mine too,” he says, snuggling in closer. “Night, babe. I love you.”
I put my hands on top of Archer’s, heart so full it could burst. “Love you too.”
20
Quinn
I cried when Archer left this morning. I didn’t mean to, and I tried really hard not to, but I’m full of so many damn hormones I can’t help it. Our goodbye lasted longer than it should, and he had to speed to make sure he’s home in time for his call-shift.
He got up early, and after lying in bed worrying about him falling asleep while driving, I called him, and we talked for half an hour. After that, I ended up falling back asleep, and now that I’m up again, I’m keeping my phone by my side. Archer should be arriving at his place in the next half hour or so, and he promised to call as soon as he got in so I know he’s okay.
Not wanting to risk sitting around my apartment feeling sorry for myself the rest of the weekend, I get dressed and go get out of the house, going to the pet store for cat food and litter. I usually order everything off Amazon because what’s the point of advancing technology if I’m not going to use it, right?
I’ve been ordering groceries for the last year and I don’t think I can ever go back. It’s just a pain lugging everything from my car to the elevator. A couple on the floor below me have a collapsible wagon, and I used to think it was silly. Now I think it’s genius.
Mom calls as I’m lugging the heavy cat litter down the hall, and I wait to call her back until I’m inside and the litter is in the foyer, where it’ll probably stay for the rest of the day at least.
“Hey, hun,” Mom says when I call her back. “How are you feeling?”
“All right. The morning sickness is slowly fading. Emphasis on the slow.”
“You’re in the second trimester. It should be gone soon. Hang in there.”
I put the phone on speaker and go to the sink, washing my hands. “Yeah. I’m only fifteen weeks. I still have so far left to go.”
“It’ll go by faster than you think,” she says and pauses. I know what she’s waiting for, and I throw her a bone and just say it.
“Archer and I talked about living arrangements after Emma is born. We’re going to move in together.”
“Ahh, yay! That’s what I was hoping to hear. Is he moving in with you?”
I grab a piece of cheesecake and sit on the couch. “It still depends on where he gets a job, but he’s applying to the different hospitals around here.” I stick my fork into my cheesecake. “And yesterday we ran into some famous doctor, or something who I think runs the fellowship Archer’s hoping to get into.”
“That sounds promising.”
“I think so too.”
“We miss you around here. Both of you. Jackson asks for Archer every day. That boy hasn’t forgotten who saved his life.”
“We might be able to come in like two weeks. Archer works next weekend, and I’m going to Indy to see him.”
“It’ll be nice once you two are in the same city.”
“I know. I don’t like this long-distance thing. I miss him.”
“Have you thought more about the baby shower? I know you said Archer is done with his residency at the end of the year and will start a new job right away.”
“That’s the hope.”
“Does he know his schedule far in advance?”
“I’m actually not sure how far, but I think so.”
“Let me know. I was thinking we could do it mid-December. You’ll be close to the third trimester, so I know it’s a little early, but it’s not like we’re doing it next week. And if we have it on the fifteenth or sixteenth, it’s far enough from Christmas it shouldn’t be an issue.”
“That could work. I’ll ask Archer about his schedule the next time we talk.”
“Great. And if that doesn’t work, then we can plan for the end of January.”
“We’ll know where we’re living by then.”
“Are you taking time off work after the baby is born?”
“I’m not sure,” I start and tell her pretty much everything Archer and I talked about. Mom thinks I should be a stay-at-home mom, which is appealing in a way but makes the feminist in me question if it’s oppressive. Though in the end, I suppose the most anti-feminist thing is going against what I want. And I’m leaning more and more towards wanting to be home with my baby.
“Whatever you decide will work out,” Mom goes on. “It makes me happy to hear you and Archer talking long-term. I don’t want you to be with him just because you’re having his child, but raising that baby as a family is the best thing.”
“Yeah,” I say, not totally agreeing with her. Raising the baby in a happy, healthy home is the best, not forcing a relationship so she can have two parents in the same house. “He’s a great guy. I’ve always thought so.”
Mom laughs. “I never would have thought you and Archer would end up together. But yes, he’s a good guy and we like him. And it seems like Dean’s coming around.”
“Finally,” I stress. “He’s been a total baby about this.”
“You have to understand—”
“Mom,” I interrupt. “I get he’s your kid and all, but come on.”
“Fine,” she agrees with a huff. “He’s always been my dramatic child.”
“So dramatic. Anyway, Archer and I are going on vacation together next month.”
“While pregnant? Are you sure that’s a good idea.”
I’m so glad Mom can’t see me roll my eyes right now.
“Morning,” I say to Raul, walking into the break room Monday morning. I woke up and didn’t feel sick today, which is enough of a small victory for me to talk to everyone in the office today.
“Hey, lady.” He adds slices of cucumber to his water. “Look at that little baby belly.”
“It popped more overnight, I swear.”
“You’re going to be all belly, I can see it now. My sister was small like you before she got knocked up. Looking at her from the back, you couldn’t even tell she was pregnant.”
“My feet might give me away.” I make a face and look down at my brand-new Gucci shoes. They fit like a glove at the store. And early this morning while I was sitting at my desk. But after standing and talking for just ten minutes, my ankles are looking a little puffy, and the straps of my heels are tight. Sorry, gorgeous metallic gold heels.
“Did you change your mind about letting us throw you a shower?” he goes on.
“I don’t know,” I say and get myself a cup of coffee. I add a tiny amount of regular and fill the rest up with decaf. “I feel weird knowing people are coming to a party for me and have to bring presents.”
“That’s the point of a shower. We all love you.”
Rene and Charlene come in and stop talking almost immediately. They both look impeccable, and I don’t understand how Charlene’s bun looks equally done up and effortless at the same time.
“Isn’t caffeine bad for the fetus?” Rene asks, eyes cold. Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re jealous. You only wrote a dozen emails to your sister sayi
ng how you wished Archer knocked you up instead of me so you could quit and be a doctor’s wife. She really needs to learn not to send scathing emails about her boss on the company server…
“It’s fine in moderation.”
“Seems like a risk.”
I force a smile. “It’s not. My OB said it was fine and Archer—my boyfriend and the baby’s father who’s a doctor—also assured me it’s fine.” Maybe I’m being petty but fuck it. I’ll blame it on the hormones.
“Right. I guess it’s up to you in the end anyway.”
“Yeah. It is.” Raul catches my eye and raises his eyebrows. Most of the other people who work here fall into a similar category as me and were looked down on as nerds or dorks in high school and even college. It’s weird how something that happened so long ago still holds an effect on me.
I take my coffee into my office and go through emails, responding to clients and scheduling meetings for the rest of the week. I need to clear my vacation time with the few people above me, making sure it’s not going to interfere with anything we have going on. I don’t think it will, and since I haven’t taken any vacation yet this year, I doubt it’ll be an issue.
I really do have it good here, which is going to make it harder to leave. I don’t think there are many other places that are so up-to-date with the latest trends and technology while still being laid back and easygoing like this. I have no doubts I’ll enjoy being home with Emma, but I’m sure going to miss this place.
Tapping my pen against my planner, my mind starts to drift. I’ll be faced with opposition to whatever I choose. If I decide to be a stay-at-home mom, there will be plenty of people who will tell me I should contribute to my family by holding a job. And if I decide to come back to work, I won’t hear the end of it from others who think it’s the mother’s place to stay home and raise babies.
In the end, it comes down to what I want to do, and that’s all that matters. Trouble is, I’m still not sure what I want to do. Looking down at my belly, I shake my head.
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