ONE
Kiersten
“I’m so sorry it’s taking me longer than expected, babe. I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I smile into the phone as my boyfriend and father of my unborn child does his best to beg forgiveness for not being home in time to help me register for all things baby.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you planned it this way so you could get out of it.”
He scoffs and then laughs, likely seeing the same irony I do—he’s been complaining about having to do this for a week and once he’s finally on board, the weather is what thwarts our plans.
I can’t stay mad at him for it, though. Spencer Woodrow and I had only been dating for a couple of months when we found out I was pregnant. Having a baby at twenty-one years old wasn’t in either of our plans and took some adjusting for both of us. But I have to admit, six months into the pregnancy and it hasn’t been horrible so far. I have a loving, supportive boyfriend. I have loving, supportive friends. And I’m one of those obnoxious women who feels fantastic during pregnancy—all glowy and cute and healthy.
The only downside is my parents have all but disowned me, not that I’m surprised. The perfection of Kiersten Willoughby, or more accurately lack thereof, has always been a point of contention in our relationship. Probably because I gave up trying long ago and started doing my own thing. That meant ditching pointe shoes and pink leotards for dancing heels and booty shorts. No, I’m not a stripper. Contemporary dance is just more my style. Ballet doesn’t give me the same type of creativity. Not to mention, jobs are much harder to come by.
Not that I’ll be working in my profession of choice any time soon. My huge baby bump put a temporary hold on that pretty damn quick. It’s remarkable how even the most liberal-minded parent suddenly thinks twice when they learn their child’s dance teacher is an unmarried pregnant college student. Or at least that was the explanation my boss gave me when I was “relieved of my duties.” Who knows? Maybe it was actually her disdain for seeing a baby bump in a leotard. Regardless, it’s a right-to-work state, and fighting it under the legal guise of “discrimination” was too much effort.
Besides, Spence comes from a well-to-do family. It’s not like his baby will want for anything. He assures me all the time as soon as his parents meet me and more importantly, our son, they’ll fall in love with both of us.
“While I appreciate that I get to miss part of our appointment, I can’t take credit for my absence,” Spence jokes. “My study group ran long and now it’s raining really hard. Are you sure you don’t want to reschedule?”
“You know I can’t.” I absentmindedly run my hand over my bump. Pressing down in the usual spot, I’m rewarded with a small nudge from inside me. It makes me smile. “My shower is in a month and people need time to plan. Besides, we’re five minutes away and Lauren has Heath’s giant truck with her. We’ll mow down anyone who gets in our way.”
From the couch adjacent to me, Lauren giggles. She tried to get out of driving the truck she refers to as “the monster” so she could bring her roommate’s car instead, but her boyfriend wouldn’t hear of it. Something about safety being more important than style. I thought it was funny when she told me. Now, I should probably call and thank Heath. His giant truck will come in handy during this downpour.
Spence chuckles and I can’t help but think about how lucky I am that he’s so good to me. To us. Things could have turned out so much worse.
“Alright, alright. Just take it slow and I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”
“We will. I promise. Text me when you get there and we’ll meet you at the front so you can have your turn with the scanner gun.”
“Will do. And take care of Baby Archie for me.”
“We’re not naming him after a prince,” I argue. Again.
“He doesn’t have a royal title so he’s not a prince. Loveyoubye.” Spence yells back and hangs up on me.
I stare at the phone, mouth agape.
“He got the last word in about the baby’s name again, didn’t he?” Lauren smiles as she lifts her travel cup of water to her lips.
“Every. Single. Time.” I toss my phone on the couch and settle in. We still have some time before we have to leave for the appointment. “How’s it feeling?” I gesture to Lauren’s leg as she massages just above her knee. The tibia fracture that knocked her out of the entire gymnastics competition season last year is finally healed. But from the looks of it, it still bothers her. “Does it ache?”
“Mostly when it’s going to rain.”
“Or if you do too many tumbling passes?”
She crinkles her nose, knowing she’s been caught. “Just don’t tell my coach, okay?”
“You should be more worried about me telling Heath.”
Lauren shrugs. “He’s an athlete. What’s he gonna say? ‘Don’t work out so hard’? He knows I’ll throw that right back at him the next time he’s bruised up from a game.”
“This is why you two are perfect together. You understand each other.”
“You have no idea,” she murmurs and reaches over to the table, picking up a notebook.
I don’t know that I’ll ever understand how Heath and Lauren ended up together. Those two used to verbally spar with the best of them. But I suppose once your perception of someone changes, well, everything else changes too. Now they’re what I like to refer to as a power couple—cheering each other on at every game or meet, pushing each other during workouts, making sure they’re both stocked up in IcyHot and ibuprofen. It’s fun to see Lauren happy and in love. She deserves it.
“I can’t wait for you to see my new floor routine. Christmas Eve Sarajevo is amazing music for tumbling. And the turn sequence at the end makes me feel like I can do anything.”
Thinking about the music, I can envision how Lauren turned such a powerful song into an equally powerful routine. For just a split second, it makes me yearn to dance again.
Then the moment is gone when Lauren flips open the cover of her notebook and poises her pen into the ready position. “Okay. Baby shower. I need a list of people to invite.”
“Just do me one favor.” She nods and gestures for me to continue. “My sister really wants to help. Or at least feel like she’s helping. I know she’s still in high school, but can you call her and ask her opinion on things? Just a couple of times.”
Lauren doesn’t skip a beat. “Of course. I’m glad Nicole is so excited. Is she going to be able to come?”
I shrug because I don’t really know. “That’s the million-dollar question. I’m almost positive my mom won’t be there but I’m hoping she’ll at least let Nicole come. Even if it’s just to report back on how horribly bloated and exhausted I look and how much better off I would be if I’d just lived life their way in the first place.”
Lauren laughs through her nose. “Sounds… stifling.”
I shrug. “Their loss. Either they’ll know their first grandchild or they won’t. At this point, I don’t really care.”