“Nobody says that,” Isabelle chuckles, brushing her shiny onyx hair away from her face. “Speaking of your parents, have you told them yet?”
I shake my head, biting my lip. “Not yet.”
“When are you going to tell them?”
“Soon.”
“You kill me with your fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants existence. I’ve never met anyone who lives in the moment as much as you do.” Isabelle grabs her phone from her purse and checks the time.
“I like to think that’s a good thing.” I shrug. “I find life’s a whole lot easier when you take it one day at a time.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
Dr. Gupta raps three times on the door before padding in, a tablet in hand and a stethoscope around her neck. Her eyes dance between the two of us before I head back to the exam table.
“How are you feeling, Maribel?” she asks.
“A little nauseous, a little tired. But otherwise good,” I answer.
“Are you taking your prenatals? Prenatal vitamins?”
“Just started last week.”
“Good, good,” she says, nails clicking on her tablet. “So you’re six weeks and two days, which would put your due date at January sixth of next year.”
“Oh, wow.” It seems so close, yet so far away. And slapping an actual due date on it makes it all the more real.
“Did the nurse talk to you about our classes? We have everything from childbirth techniques to caring for newborns to parenting.”
“She gave me some pamphlets,” I say.
“I highly recommend them. You can bring your partner too.” She glances at Isabelle.
“Oh, she’s not my—”
“I’ll be there,” Isabelle says with a smile, giving me an emerald-eyed wink. I love her.
“Do you have any questions for me?” Dr. Gupta asks, eyeing the door. For some reason, I expected this to take longer. I guess it never dawned on me that people get pregnant every day, and I’m not some special snowflake pregnant lady who needs to hoard all of the good doctor’s time.
I shake my head. “None that I can think of.”
“Well, everything looks great on the ultrasound. Why don’t you stop by the lab on your way out so we can get a quick draw on you, okay? We’ll check a few levels and give you a call if anything looks amiss. Just some standard tests we run on all of our pregnant patients.”
“Sure.”
“Great, Maribel.” She places her hand on my shoulder on her way to the door. “We’ll see you back in late June for your twelve-week ultrasound.”
With that, Dr. Gupta leaves.
“You hungry?” Isabelle asks, rising and gathering her things.
“Always.”
“The usual place?”
I nod.
“You okay?” she asks. “You’re quiet all of a sudden.”
Smiling, I say, “Just letting it all sink in. Doesn’t feel real. Not even with the heartbeat and the due date.”
“Once you start showing, maybe it’ll feel real? Or maybe once you feel it kick?” Isabelle puts her arm around me as we head to the door.
“Maybe?”
“Are you going to find out what it is?” she asks. “Wait, what the hell kind of question is that. Of course you aren’t.”
I laugh. “You know me well.”
Eight
Hudson
* * *
“I’d like to meet your parents, Mari.” I pour her a glass of red wine over a candlelit dinner Friday evening at a romantic Michelin star restaurant on the Upper East Side, Villa Moreno’s. We haven’t seen much of each other this week as I’ve been working longer hours than usual finishing up plans for a public library in Still Creek Township, New Jersey, but it’s time to get back on track.
Reaching for the nearest glass of water, she tosses back a couple gulps in an attempt to disguise a startled choke.
“You never said anything about meeting my parents,” she says when she comes up for air. “I really don’t want to involve them in any of this. I can’t do that to them.”
I take a sip of my wine, swirling it first, then flashing a million-dollar smile. “Why wouldn’t they be a part of this? I’m marrying their daughter.”
“You’re fake-marrying their daughter, which means you’re going to be my fake husband and they’re going to be your fake in-laws. It’s probably better off that they don’t even meet you.”
“Why’s that?”
She sighs. “Honestly, you’re probably not what they had in mind for me. And I don’t even know if they’ll like you. And if they think I’m marrying someone who doesn’t deserve me, it’ll break their hearts.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m just being honest, Hudson.” She takes another sip of water, completely ignoring the hundred-dollar glass of pinot placed before her. “You’re not personable or friendly. You’re not small town. You’re cold and distant and self-important. You’re all business and no fun. They’ve got pretty high hopes, and I don’t think they’d be crazy about their only child growing up to become some fancy-pants architect’s trophy wife.”
“A fancy-pants architect’s trophy wife?” I chuckle. “Is that all you think you’re going to be to me?”
She nods. “Basically.”
“Just as your parents have expectations for your future partner, mine do too. My mother would choke on her pearls if she believed all I wanted for a life partner was some vapid trophy wife. I’m looking for an equal, Mari. Someone intelligent. Respectable. Strong. A force to be reckoned with.” My eyes lock on hers. “And that’s you. All you have to do is be yourself, and my parents will love you and think you’re absolutely perfect for me.”
Mari clears her throat, glancing down at the napkin folded in her lap. “Wow. Um. That’s … that’s really nice of you to say … I kind of feel bad now.”
“Don’t. You were only being honest. I respect an honest woman.” I take another sip of wine.
Our server approaches the table, taking our orders, and my gaze falls on Mari’s still untouched wine goblet.
“Not feeling wine tonight?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not really a drinker. Sorry.”
“I never knew that about you.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” She flashes a smile that, for a split second, makes me feel like I’ve known her a lot longer than two months. “At least not yet.”
I lift my wine, nodding toward her water glass. “A toast?”
She clinks her drink against mine.
“To getting to know one another,” I say.
“To getting to know one another,” she mimics.
I take another sip, unable to remove my gaze from her. Under the flickering candlelight, she’s radiant, glowing from within. Her blonde hair is swept back, just off her neck, and subtle diamond studs adorn her ears. Her lips are shaded in soft pink and her lashes are dark and curled. She’s the image of whispered grace and emerging refinement wrapped in a tight little black dress and heels that make her almost as tall as me.