Dr. Jenkins leaned back in her chair, adjusting her glasses. After a moment, she spoke. “I’m happy to write you the letter, and frankly, I’m relieved you have enough sense to do this. I’m the first to tell you I encourage my patients not to worry about their pregnancies. I tell them the truth—that women have been having babies since the beginning of time. It’s a normal, common part of life. Yet, I don’t have many patients whose job is as grueling as yours.”

I sat on the examination table before her, chilly in the thin cotton gown I wore, twisting my hands in my lap and nodding along with her words. Before I knew it, a tear was rolling down my cheek. Dr. Jenkins stood and leaned against the table beside me, snagging a box of tissues off the counter and handing me one.

“It’s none of my business, and if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But I’m wondering who the father is, and if he’s involved. Like I told you, you’re going to experience some emotional swings due to the hormonal changes. Yet, you haven’t said a word about who the father is and how that’s affecting you. By no means is this a lecture. Some of the best mothers I know are single mothers. Yet if the father is involved, it would be good for him to perhaps be a part of a few of our appointments,” she said gently.

I was coming to realize my doctor knew me better than I’d thought. How she could so easily see into what lay behind my tears was beyond me. I blew my nose and nodded.

My mind flashed back to the night before when Ward took me on the kitchen counter, powering into me so hard and fast, I saw stars, nearly limp from the force of my climax. The intimacy I felt with him was startling. Yet, we didn’t talk about it, and I sure as hell didn’t want to. When Dr. Jenkins said my hormones would affect me, I wondered if she meant I’d become sex crazed.

Although, I knew the news of my pregnancy was a surprise to Ward, I had no idea if he’d want to come to these appointments. I wasn’t so sure I wanted him to. I was starting to worry about myself. Because I was having flashes of hopes and wishes and dreams that I’d never considered—all of them with Ward in the starring role.

I felt like a foolish girl, wanting the wedding and the picket fence and our baby. Something I’d never known I wanted that much. Yet without Ward being the man in all of those equations, I didn’t want any of these things. I certainly didn’t think they made much sense as it was. I chalked it up to the overwhelming circumstances.

I tugged another tissue out of the box and glanced over to Dr. Jenkins. Her gaze was warm and kind behind her glasses. She smiled softly. “Well, this might not make you feel better, but it’s the truth. Whether pregnancies are planned or whether people are married or not, in my experience, none of those things have anything to do with how things go in the long run.”

I took a shuddering breath and nodded. “I’ll talk to him. It might be good for him to come to one of these appointments.” Even though that was what I said, my feelings about including him were muddled. I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea.

She stepped away, clicking on the laptop screen and looking at her calendar. “We can schedule your first ultrasound in a few weeks, and then the next one between eighteen and twenty-two weeks. At that appointment, you’ll be able to find out if it’s a boy or a girl. If you want to know, that is,” she said matter-of-factly. “Let’s get these on the calendar now. I’ll have our receptionist give you the schedule on your way out.” She tapped a few keys as she spoke.

Tears rolled down my cheeks anew, this time not from sadness, but from a rushing sense of joy. I might not have planned this baby, I might not be prepared, and I might be a hot mess inside about what it meant for Ward and me, but there was a tangled joy rising through the scrum.

* * *

Late that evening, my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. Anticipation rose swiftly inside. Ward and I hadn’t spoken yet today. I’d called out of work altogether because I simply wasn’t up for it. When I spun the phone on the counter and saw a text from him, I grinned, a giddy sense of joy bubbling up.

On my way.

Glancing at the clock, I calculated he would be here in about fifteen minutes. Restless, I started folding the laundry. It gave me something to do while I waited. When I heard his truck rolling down the driveway, I had to hold back the urge to go meet him on the deck.

When he walked inside, I looked up from the couch as I put a pair of socks in the laundry basket. Closing the door behind him, he paused, his eyes locking to mine from across the room. It felt as if a band of electricity flickered to life between us, the air alive and heavy. He toed his boots off and shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack by the door.

“Have you had dinner?” he asked.

At the shake of my head, he smiled slowly. “Good, I just called in a pizza. I didn’t want to impose, but I’m fucking starving,” he said bluntly.

I stared at him, thoughts tumbling through my mind. My words surprised me. “My doctor wants to know if you want to come to any of the appointments,” I blurted out.

The moment I spoke, I wanted to take the words back. Hormones, hormones. I didn’t need to turn this into more than it was.

Ward had started to walk across the room and came to a stop dead in the center of it, his eyes widening in shock. “I guess I hadn’t even thought about that.”

Anxious that I’d even said anything, I shrugged, trying to play it off. “It’s no big deal. I wouldn’t have mentioned it if she hadn’t.”

I was relieved to hear the sound of a car coming down the driveway already. Our awkward conversation was conveniently interrupted by the pizza delivery driver.