I upload my favorite picture of Archer and me from this weekend, heart fluttering when I look at it. We’re standing by the pink balloons, and looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. My hair is tucked awkwardly behind my ear, but we both look so happy.
So in love.
Archer’s hand is on my stomach, and his smile is genuine. Man, I miss him. Tomorrow is too far away. Long distance sucks.
“We cannot wait for spring. Hashtag thirteen weeks. Hashtag baby girl,” I say out loud as I type.
“Don’t forget hashtag blessed.”
“And grateful. Please. I might be basic, but I know enough not to flaunt it around on social media,” I laugh and post the photo. But I really do feel those things.
Me: I told you, I’ll get fired if I do that.
Logan: Come on, sis. Live a little.
Weston: As an officer of the law I must remind you…it’s only illegal if you get caught.
Me: Guys, I don’t know…I really like my job.
Owen: You’d be the coolest sister ever if you did this.
Me: I’m already the coolest sister.
Logan: Dean’s only getting married once.
Owen: That’s debatable. I still don’t see how Kara puts up with his ass. Think of it this way, Q: it’s the only bachelor party we’re throwing for him.
Me: Maybe…it’s risky. We’re still working bugs out of the prototype. I wouldn’t want you guys to get hurt.
Dean: You guys are assholes. Mom told me the Batmobile isn’t real and all that footage is fake.
* * *
I crack up, reading Dean’s text twice. We’ve been going at this all day, with my other brothers trying to convince me to let them take the Batmobile out for the bachelor party.
* * *
Weston: It took MOM telling you it’s not real for you to get it? Jackson never once bought into it.
Owen: And he’s fucking THREE YEARS OLD
Logan: hahaha you’re never living this down, bro
* * *
I send a carefully doctored photo of me sitting behind the wheel of the Batmobile to the group text, still laughing as I imagine Dean’s pouting face right now.
* * *
Me: I guess it’ll just be me in this bad boy then. So long, suckers!
Logan: He’s believed this for FOUR FUCKING MONTHS, guys
Owen: I didn’t think we could keep it going for that long.
Weston: Q and I get all the credit.
Dean: Again. Assholes.
* * *
Something flutters in my stomach. I put my phone down, smile still on my face, and put both hands over my belly. Did I just feel Emma kick? My phone chimes again and again, and I know I’m missing a slew of texts from my brothers. I keep my hands pressed to my stomach, waiting for that feeling again. Deciding it’s just gas—I did have a burrito for lunch—I pick up my phone again and catch up on the texts from my brothers.
There’s another from Jacob, asking if we can get together when he’s back in town. I bite the inside of my cheek, not sure how to answer. I have no issue grabbing lunch with him if we’re with other people from work. And I don’t mind talking to him. We have a lot in common, and he does know my family. We’re better at being friends and fell flat romantically.
He was a practical boyfriend. I was moderately attracted to him, we worked in the same field, and lived near each other. It made sense to date him. I gave it a shot, and while I can’t say it was terrible, there just wasn’t a spark.
I have more than a spark with Archer. We have a raging fire. But we don’t have much in common. We work in total opposite fields. And we live hours apart.
“Love isn’t practical,” I say out loud. And then it hits me what I just said. Love. I’m in love with Archer.
Tapping my fingers on my desk, I start to type a reply to Jacob. He still follows me on Instagram, so he has to know I’m pregnant and with Archer. I delete what I’m typing and start again, finally agreeing to have a ‘working lunch’ with him the week he gets back. He responds with a smiley face and I go back and read my message, wondering if I was too callous. I don’t want to lead him on…this is only this hard for me, I’m sure.
Silencing my phone, I go back to work, wrapping up a final system check on a program we’re launching next month. I find a few things to tweak, make notes, and go back through it again.
I have to stop to pee for the second time since lunch. If I wasn’t so damn thirsty all the time, I’d lay off beverages until I got home. It’s getting a bit annoying to use the bathroom more than normal, and I know it’ll only get worse.
When I get back to my office, I see I missed a call from Archer. I sit back in my chair, put my wrist brace back on and call him.
“Hey, babe,” he says right away. It sounds like he’s outside near a road. “How’s work?”
“It’s all right. I’m busy, but it’s going by slow since I know I’ll get to see you soon. Are you done with surgery?”
“I didn’t get to do it. My patient ate three hours before he got here. We had to reschedule the operation.”
“Wow. Way to listen to doctor’s orders.”
“I know. And it wasn’t like a quick drink of water and something small to eat. He went out to breakfast.”
I let out a snort of laughter. “I’m glad you found out.”
“It was obvious. He had bacon stuck in his teeth.”
“So does that mean you’re done for the day?”
“It does. Or it did, I suppose. I’m already in Chicago.”
“Are you serious?” I bring my hand to my chest, smiling like a fool.
“I am. I’ve been here a while, actually. I tried to find a spot to park close to your apartment. It took a while, but I wanted to surprise you.”
“That’s twice in a row you did. I need to step it up and surprise you,” I say, very glad now I got new lingerie to wear for him tonight. “Where are you now?”
“Almost to your office building.”
My eyes fill with tears and I shake my head at myself. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. You’re almost done with work, right? I don’t want to interrupt your day.”
“I am. I have like half an hour left and I’m wrapping up for the day. I can’t believe you’re here!”
“Believe it, babe. How’s Jackson doing? Dean said he came home from the hospital.”
“You guys are talking again?”
“We are. He called and asked if I wanted to come to the bachelor party.”
“That’s great! You’re going, right?”
“If I can. The party is in April, and by then, I’ll officially be a surgeon and no longer a resident.”
“Right! You’re done at the end of the year.”
“I’m counting down the days,” he says with a laugh. I don’t know why I more or less forgot about him finishing his residency before Emma is born. In my mind, the two happened at the same time. But he’ll have a new job before she’s born, which is good, right?
“Jackson’s doing well. Thanks to you.”
“You all can stop thanking me. I’m a doctor. Noticing illness and injury is part of my job. Though it has been a few seconds since I brought up that I’m a doctor. I can see how you could forget.”
“You better wear a name tag that says Dr. Jones on it or something.”
“I’ll add in MD and the fact that I’m a surgeon. I don’t want people thinking I just have a lowly PhD or something.” r />
I laugh and move to the window, looking down at the street far below. I won’t be able to see Archer walking in, but it’s still interesting to stop and people watch from this far up.
“We can’t have that, now, can we? Are you almost here?”
“Impatient?”
“Just a little,” I say with a laugh. “I thought I felt Emma kicking today. Is it too early?”
“It’s unlikely but not impossible. It’ll be another few weeks before you can externally feel her kicking.” The sounds of traffic fade. “I’m in your building.”
“You might lose service in the elevator. Come up and I’ll meet you in the lobby. See you soon.”
We hang up and I save what I’ve been working on. I quickly straighten up my desk and do a quick check of my appearance, using my phone as a mirror. I go into the lobby, just in time to see Archer get off the elevator.
I rush to him, throwing my arms around him and pulling him in for a kiss, not caring who sees. Archer kisses me back hard, tongue pushing into my mouth.
“That gets better every time,” he breathes, breaking away.
“It really does.”
He slowly brings his hands down my arms and rests one on my stomach. “I missed her too.”
The fluttering feeling comes back as if Emma knows her daddy is right here with us. Smiling, I lead Archer back into the office with me, ignoring the blank stares Rene and Charlene are giving us right now. I introduce him to a few coworkers, and then he sits in my office talking with Marissa while I finish my work.
When I’m done for the day, Archer and I walk out together, and he takes my hand as we walk the few blocks it takes to get to my apartment. He grabs his bag from his car and lugs it upstairs and inside.
Neville circles around Archer, meowing to be picked up almost immediately after we walk in.
“Hey, buddy,” Archer says, cradling the cat to his chest. “You remember me?” He takes off his shoes and goes to the couch, sitting and petting Neville, who’s purring loudly. I cross the room and go into the kitchen to get a can of food for the cats, and I realize this is exactly what I want.