Page 16 of All or Notching
Did I miss something? “There’s nobody in my life.”
Is that relief in her eyes? “May I come in?”
Her hesitation is blatant, but she steps back, granting me access to her home.
This time I get to see what I missed my first time here. Her home is nice. Nothing extraordinary, but it’s comfortable and modern. Tidy. Light colors, dark accents, and a few plants. The entrance spills right into the living area, which flows into a dining area. I’m guessing around the corner out of my line of sight is the kitchen.
I remember those carpeted stairs leading to the second level, though.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
I jerk back to the present and turn toward her. “No, I’m good, thank you. You look like you could use something though. Why don’t you sit down? Put your feet up. Point me in the direction of your kitchen and I can make you some tea or something. Do you have tea?”
“That really isn’t necessary, Tristan.”
“Let me do it anyway.”
She shrugs but walks away, and I follow her to the kitchen. I stand aside while she pulls out a kettle, two mugs, and a box of green tea.
Stepping forward, I put a hand on her arm, but I’m stopped by the sizzle of awareness that shoots up my arm. Glancing in her direction, I find she’s looking at me, her brows furrowed in confusion.
Shaking it off for the moment, I gesture to a chair. “Sit down. Let me get the tea.”
While she’s pulling out the chair, I fill the kettle and find an outlet to plug it in. I take a moment to look around her kitchen. The woman is a neat freak. Not a thing out of place, not a crumb to be found, not a dirty dish or glass in the sink. She’d cringe if she walked into my apartment.
“I’ve been doing some research.”
I spin around and lean against the counter while we wait for the water to boil. “What kind of research?”
“I’m older, so I want to understand the risks. I didn’t know I was pregnant, so I didn’t get the prenatal care I should have.”
“It’s never too late. We can get everything you need. Have you scheduled an appointment with your own doctor?”
She nods. “I read that the first eight weeks of pregnancy are important to the baby’s development.”
“It is, but you’re healthy, Laurel. I’m sure the baby is fine.”
“It said I’m at risk of gestational diabetes and preeclampsia.”
“Have you eaten anything today?”
“I had some soup and toast this morning.”
“Nothing since?” It’s after three in the afternoon. “Are you feeling ill?”
The kettle boils, steam whistling into the air. I fill a cup for each of us and set them on the table, one in front of her, the other at the chair next to her, which I pull out, sit down, and then take her hand in mine, placing one of my fingers over her wrist. It may look like I’m simply being sympathetic and supportive, but I’m also checking her pulse. It’s strong, but she’s so flustered I don’t want to take any chances.
“No, I’m tired, but I think my nerves are starting to settle in. I’m not sure I can do this.”
“I’m sure you can.” I let her hand go and take a sip of my tea, watching her do the same. “And I’ll be around to help when you need it.” I stand up and stroll over to her refrigerator. Pulling open the door, I scan the contents. Grabbing a carton of eggs, cheese, milk, and green peppers, I place all the items on the counter.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to make you something to eat.” I open the cupboard doors until I find the other things I need. “Why don’t you tell me about your family?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” I heat up the pan and crack eggs into a bowl.