Baby & Bump (The This & That Series) (2 page)

             
Brian laughed. “Made you look. Hey, Lex. Heard your good news. I guess congratulations are in order, eh?”

             
I smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

             
“Does Patsy know yet?” As soon as he asked me, Candace slapped her forehead.

             
“She hasn’t told Aunty Patsy yet, so you keep your mouth shut,” she hissed.

             
“So, what’s the scoop?” He sat down in the seat his wife abandoned. “We didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”

             
“Neither did she,” Marisol snorted.

             
“Brian, would you grab the plates out of the cabinet?” Candace turned off the wok and tilted her head at me. “You’re overwhelmed, aren’t you?”

             
I cringed and looked down at my crackers. The smell of Chinese food, mixed with the weight of my newfound role as human incubator, and everyone’s curiosity about the father of my offspring, was all contributing to a monster headache. As much as I wanted to answer my friends’ questions, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. In fact, simply thinking about how I got myself into this colossal pickle made me want to crawl into a pair of sweats and cry it out for a week. Or two.

My stomach roiled at the thought of pickles.

             
No more food analogies for a while
, I thought to myself.

             
“Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to cover it.” I stood up, the chair scraping along the tile floor noisily. “Listen, thanks for the crackers. I’ve got to go now.”

             
“Oh, come on. Stay for dinner.” Candace wiped her hands on a dishtowel and scooped me into her arms. “It’ll be good for you. You’re pale.”

             
“Stop fussing.” Marisol stood up and put her hands on her hips. “She’s pale because she puked three times during our meeting with a bride-to-be today.”

             
“It was food poisoning.” I mumbled, pulling my sweater on.

             
“It was the baby.” Candace rubbed my arms lovingly. “You poor thing. You’ve got morning sickness.”

             
“It’s not morning sickness. She’s terrified. Good Lord, her whole life changed in the time it took her to piss on a stick.” Marisol tossed her hair again.

             
“I’ve got a bug or something.” I pulled away from my two best friends, who stood shaking their heads at me in unison. They weren’t falling for my excuses. They knew better.

             
First off, Candace had been pregnant three times in four years and had her obstetrician on speed dial. And Marisol owned and operated a business with me, meaning she could sense my stress from fifty paces. And lastly, they were
both
right. Hands down, this had been one of the most stressful days of my life, topping the day my father died of an aneurysm when I was in eleventh grade,
and
the day I came home to discover that my husband had moved out while I was at work.

             
And it was only going to get worse.

Chapter Two

             
I took the folded blue paper from the nurse and smiled, even though the smell of her perfume made my stomach rock back and forth. It wasn’t her fault. I felt nauseated by random smells lately. The other day, Marisol had opened a can of water chestnuts at work, and I’d vomited into the sink.

             
“Go ahead and get undressed from the waist down, and the doctor will be right in to see you.” She nodded encouragingly, then slipped out of the examination room, leaving me with Candace, who bounced little Aubrey on her knee. The other two kids were in preschool, so Candace had deemed it the perfect time to introduce me to Dr. Haybee, obstetrician extraordinaire.

             
Dr. Haybee’s office shared a building with Brian’s ophthalmology practice. Apparently after six years of sharing a hallway and three pregnancies, Brian and Candace had become friends with the noble doctor. Now she’d made it her personal responsibility to guide every human with a uterus to his office.

             
“I already had a gynecologist,” I muttered, unbuttoning my jeans.

             
Candace’s nostrils flared. “You mean the old hag your mom and my mom both see? Yeah. She’s the one who called to tell your mom when you went on the pill.”

             
“Okay. So she’s sort of…” My voice trailed off and I bit my lip.

             
“Dr. Smith has no respect for privacy laws.” She pulled a bottle out of her diaper bag and popped it into the baby’s mouth. “You’ll like Dr. Haybee much better.”

             
“Privacy shmivacy.” I started to pull my pants down. “Hey, look away for a minute.”

             
She shook her head. “You don’t have any parts I haven’t seen. We used to bathe together, remember?”

             
A memory of fighting with Candace over a rubber duck in my grandmother’s bathtub while both of our mothers took pictures fleeted through my mind. I scrunched up my face. “That was twenty five years ago.”

             
“Oh, come on, Bump. Don’t be so grumpy.” Candace turned and faced the wall, then immediately whirled back around. “Oh, wait—”

             
“Hey!” I moved to cover my naked bits.

             
“Yeesh. Sorry.” She faced the wall again. “What I was going to say was, isn’t it funny that we call you Bump, and pretty soon you’re going to have a big bump?”

Candace laughed at her
epiphany, and I looked down at my still flat stomach despondently. My stomach would undoubtedly betray me soon and pop out like a volleyball. Or a beachball. Or worse.

Sadly, she had a point. Having the last name of Baump had cursed me for thirty years. When I was made fun of for wearing coke bottle glasses in grade school, the kids called me
The Four Eyed Bump
. When I was a flat chested sixteen-year-old, they’d asked me,
Where’s your bumps, Bump?
And in college, when spotted across the courtyard by a friend, I was often summoned by an ear-piercing cry of
BUUUUMP
.

I never liked my nickname. The irony that I would
shortly be sporting a bump was just enough to make me loathe it.

“Are you decent?” Candace asked.

Settling myself onto the examination table, and ignoring the metal stirrups on either side, I did my best to cover my lap with the paper. “Yeah. All covered. Sort of. This thing leaves little to the imagination.”

“Don’t fret. Your OB will be so familiar with your girl bits after a few months that you’ll be dropping your pants every time he walks in.” Candace adjusted Aubrey on her lap, and offered me a wicked grin. “Of course, it helps that the doctor is hot.”

My head snapped in her direction. “He’s what?”

“Fletcher is hot.” She shook her head. “Er, Dr. Haybee. Yeah, he’s
edible.”

             
“You mean the man who is going to look at my unmentionables in a few minutes is hot?” I wanted to head for the hills and not come back. I could do it alone, couldn’t I? Pioneer women had babies in the plains without prenatal care. Of course, those women weren’t addicted to microwave popcorn and dependent on their DVRs, either, but I would manage.

             
“That doesn’t freak you out, does it?” Candace giggled.

             
“No.” I shifted underneath my paper. “Well, yeah. A little. Or maybe a lot. Okay, a lot.”
              “Oh come on. You’ve seen plenty of gynos in your lifetime.” Aubrey popped the bottle out of her mouth and sat up on her mother’s lap, appearing refreshed. “It shouldn’t bother you that the doctor is young, cute, and single.”

             
“He’s single, too?” I cringed. “All the other doctors have been women, or much older than me, or married.”

“Now’s not the time to get shy, Lexie,” Candace teased. “Being shy certainly didn’t get you into this situation.”

“You sound like my mother.” I gritted my teeth.

“Sorry.” Candace frowned at me. “I j
ust wish you’d tell me who the dad is. That’s all. I won’t tell anyone. Not even Brian. And especially not Marisol. She’ll go crazy with information like that—”

“It was immaculate conception,” I said flatly.

Candace narrowed her cerulean eyes at me. I’d always envied those eyes. She’d inherited them from our mothers, who’d once been referred to in high school as the “blue eyed twinsies.” She’d also gotten their blonde hair, another reason why I’d snarled with jealousy on more than one occasion as a child. I was blessed with my father’s feathery, flyaway hair that was the same color as a new penny, and had his brown eyes, too. I’d eventually learned to control my Muppet hair by keeping it cut short and edgy, rather than trying to grow it long and luxurious the way Candace and Marisol did. So what if they looked like a couple of glamour-pusses, and I was their geeky, red headed tag-along. I told myself I didn’t mind. Anymore.

             
“What are you doing noticing Dr. Haybee’s hotness, anyway?” I scolded her before she could press the subject further. “I’m going to tell Brian.”

She didn’t react, and I hadn’t expected her too. Candace and Brian met in an economics class at Eastern Washington University
fourteen years ago, and hadn’t left each other’s side since. They’d been married by Pastor Irm in the Presbyterian Church twelve days after their college graduation, and when he went to medical school in South Dakota, she’d worked at a diner in Sioux Falls to pay for their tiny apartment. They finished each other’s sentences, picked out each other’s clothes and had found the perfect balance between friends and lovers.

             
It was sickening, really.

             
“Go ahead, tell him. He knows already. Fletcher comes to our house for Monday night football every few weeks.” She sighed and straightened her sleek blonde ponytail.

I watched as she turned the pages of the cardboard book patiently with her daughter and felt a tug in my chest. My hand instinctively went to my belly, and warmth spread under my palm.

There was a quick knock at the door, and when it opened, most of the—well,
all
of the—air in my lungs released in one long whoosh.

I’d been expecting someone handsome. After all, Candace and Brian
were an extremely handsome couple. He was half Asian, so with his almond shaped eyes and chiseled cheekbones, and she with the golden hair and perky boobs, they had the whole modern American couple thing happening. Most of their friends were doctors and nurses, professionals and suit wearing types. Lots of wayfarer glasses, and monochromatic shirt and tie sets.

             
But Dr. Haybee went past handsome. In fact, he went so far past handsome he was down the road and around the bend.

             
His doctor’s coat was hanging open to reveal what appeared to be a worn denim shirt and a pair of cargo khakis. He was tan. Not overly tan, like one of those Jersey Beach freaks, or whatever that show was called—not that I ever watched it—but perfectly sun-kissed like he’d spent the weekend outside. Doing yard work. With his shirt off.

His hair was blond
streaked with platinum, probably the result of a summer spent on a beach somewhere, and it was tousled into a disheveled “
I need a haircut, but I’m too busy wakeboarding and mountain biking to care
” look. When he raised his eyes off the manila folder full of my medical facts—height, last menstrual cycle—and, gulp—
weight
—I noticed that his eyes were the most crystal aquamarine blue I’d ever seen. They were the exact same color of a Tiffany jewelry box. And, as if I weren’t ready to howl like a dog in heat already, when he opened his mouth to greet me, his deep voice positively oozed charm with its Southern accent.

             
“You must be Lexie. Hi, I’m Fletcher Haybee. How are you?”

             
“I… I… uh…”

My brain had shut off. I was sitting there, naked from the waist down, covered
in a glorified quicker picker upper, staring at the best-looking man I’d ever seen.

             
“She’s fine.” Candace snickered.

             
The lovely doctor’s eyes brightened. “Candace? What’s up? Is this your sister?”

             
“Cousin. She just found out she’s pregnant.” Candace nudged me. “Say hello, Lex.”

             
“Hello, Lex. Er, Dr. Haybee.” I blinked a few times and focused on the tee shirt underneath his worn denim button down.

Holy hell, it was a vintage
Aerosmith tee shirt! If there had been water in the examination room, he could have walked on it.

             
“Call me Fletcher.” His accent made my toes, clad only in blue and white striped socks with dancing hippos on the heels (what was I thinking?) curl deliciously. “Any cousin of Candace and Brian’s is a friend of mine.”

             
I ignored Candace’s knowing grin as I tried to put on my game face. Well, as much of a game face as I could have without
any pants on
. “You… you don’t look like a doctor.”

             
“Thank you. I take that as a compliment.” He grinned and the corners of his eyes crinkled. I swear to God a ray of sunshine busted through the roof, illuminating him.

             
“He’s the best OB in town.” Candace announced proudly. “Remember when I had preeclampsia with Ellie’s pregnancy and had bed rest?”

             
I peeled my eyes away from Fletcher. “Uh huh.”

             
“Fletcher did all of the appointments in my last trimester at our house.” She beamed. “How many doctors do house calls these days?”

             
Glancing back at Fletcher, who was nodding humbly, I replied, “Not many.”

             
He laughed, and the deep, rumbling sound made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. “That’s just one of the perks of being friends with your obstetrician.”

             
I was staring at him. I couldn’t help it. How did I miss this guy through all three of Candace’s pregnancies? Why hadn’t she dragged me to this office sooner?

Sa
y when I wasn’t pregnant and my face wasn’t the same shade of grey as a gas station bathroom?

             
Fletcher put down my file and approached me. “Well, Lexie, it’s nice to meet you.”

             
“It’s nice to meet you, too.” We shook hands, and I bit the insides of my cheeks.

             
“My nurse tested the urine sample you left in the restroom, and as you know, you’re pregnant. Congratulations.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Otherwise, your white cell count looked good, and there wasn’t too much protein in your urine, so that’s great. Was this a planned pregnancy?”

             
I swallowed and ignored Candace’s eyes probing the side of my face. “No.”

             
His expression softened. “Do you want to discuss options? Are you planning to parent the child?”

             
“Yes. Of course.” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I always hoped to have children. Just didn’t plan on doing it alone.”

             
Fletcher appeared surprised. “Oh, you’ll be a single mom?”

             
“Yes. Unless you’d like to marry me.” I mumbled that last part.

             
“Excuse me?” he asked.

             
“Nothing!” I squeaked.

I f
ought the urge to slap myself on the forehead, and looked away from his bright eyes. There was something really wrong with me if I was this attracted to my obstetrician. I mean, within a matter of minutes, he was going to be looking at my crotch, for Pete’s sake. And not in a
Fifty Shades of Grey
way, either. Argh.