Do You Think You're Up For This?

“When I’m with you, there’s no worries, when I’m with you, there’s no shame. When I’m with you, I’m secure.” – Cute is What We Aim For

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The white porcelain blurs in front of me and I can hardly see anything due to the tears that are filling my eyes and distorting my vision.

I already hate this, and it’s been less than a week since I found out.

I hate waking up sick every morning. And the worst thing is that I know it only gets harder from here.

I try to get up from my spot on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, but then I feel nauseous again, so I stay put, leaning my head against the shower door and closing my eyes to stop the room from spinning.

“Rae? Are you alright?” Michael asks, knocking at the door. “Rachel?” I don’t answer, afraid of what will happen if I open my mouth when I feel this horrible.

After my nausea passes, I brush my teeth thoroughly and use mouthwash to get the bad taste out of my mouth before exiting the bathroom.

Michael’s standing just outside the door and I try to smile weakly at him, but he frowns in concern.

“Are you alright?” he asks again, placing a hand to my cheek and looking into my eyes.

“Fine,” I answer simply.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he replies, pulling me into his arms.

“Sorry for what?” I mumble, burying my face in his chest. “You’re not the one who forgot to take the pill,” I add under my breath, pulling away a bit. He groans a little.

“Don’t say things like that, Rae, please…” he says.

“I don’t mean it,” I sigh. “I’m just…just scared,” I admit. He hugs me tighter in response.

“I’ll drive you out to Barrington to see your parents, if you like. Your mum would love to know,” he suggests, and I nod my agreement. “We’ll call my parents later tonight; it’s probably three in the morning over there right now.”

“My mom’s going to have a heart attack,” I say, and he laughs. “I told her we weren’t having kids for another couple years,” I sigh, shaking my head.

We’re about to leave to my parents’ house when there’s a knock on the door. It’s none other than my cousin.

“Bill. What’s up?” I ask him, to which he shrugs, stepping inside.

“Nothing, really. Just thought I’d stop by. What about you?” he asks, noticing that we’re about to leave.

“Tell him, Rae,” Michael prods.

“I’m pregnant,” I say, for the first time without regret. His face breaks out into a surprised grin.

“I’m going to be an uncle! Courtney and my mom are going to freak when I tell them!” he exclaims happily, hugging me tightly. I laugh, thinking about my aunt and cousin’s reactions. “Congrats, you guys, that’s great.”

“We’re about to drive out to Barrington to tell my parents,” I inform him.

“Oh, sorry. I guess I’ll go hang out with Sisky and Butcher, then,” he apologizes, and we follow him out the door and to the cars.

We walk up the driveway of my parents’ house about an hour’s drive later. Michael squeezes my hand in reassurance. I squeeze back and then ring the doorbell.

My mom opens the door, looking considerably surprised to see us.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone; I thought you two were coming for lunch tomorrow?” she questions, stepping aside to let us in.

“We have big news,” Michael offers, squeezing my hand again.

“Oh?” she questions, glancing at me.

“We’re having a baby,” I blurt out simply. A wide smile takes over her look of shock and she comes to hug us both.

“I’m going to be a grandma!” she exclaims, her giddy reaction matching William’s. “How long have you known? When are you due?” she asks, pulling away to look at me, as if my stomach might have expanded in the few seconds since I told her.

“I’m a month along, I only found out earlier this week.”

“Rachel Marie Shaw!” she exclaims, forgetting that my last name’s been Chislett for the past two months. “You’ve known this for almost a week and you didn’t think of telling your own mother?” she scolds good-naturedly.

“Sorry, mom. Things have been a little hectic,” I apologize.

“We had a bit of a freak out,” Michael admits, chuckling softly and glancing at me.

“That’s perfectly normal,” she reassures us, before leading us to the living room and starting to chatter about other baby-related things.

Michael squeezes my hand. I smile and lean against him, finally feeling okay with all this.

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I’m exhausted when we arrive at the apartment from spending the day at my parents’ in Barrington.

I climb into bed next to Michael tiredly. He reaches over to stroke my cheek. I close my eyes, relishing the feel of his calloused fingertips against my skin, thinking about how he probably won’t even want to touch me in a few months.

I suddenly lean over to kiss him in a burst of energy, catching him off guard. I climb on top of him, running my tongue over his bottom lip as I straddle his waist. He opens his mouth, letting me in without hesitation.

I start to remove my shirt when we briefly pull away for breath, and he stops me, placing his hands on my waist.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks, chuckling a little as I quickly shed my shirt and toss it to the floor.

“Yes,” I reply firmly. “In a few months I’ll be too fat and tired to do this,” I reason. He laughs, taking my hand and bringing my tattooed wrist to his lips and kissing it softly, causing me to shiver. “Besides…” I begin softly, reaching down to touch his face and brush his hair from his eyes. “You won’t want to touch me when I’m huge.”

“You’re crazy, that’s completely untrue,” he argues, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows I’m still insecure.

He pulls back, gently rolling us over and connecting our lips again hungrily as his fingers fumble for the buttons on my jeans and then slide them past my hips and toss them aside. I help rid him of his shirt and he kicks his own jeans off.

“You’re beautiful, do you know that?” he breathes into my ear. It still makes me blush faintly after all this time.

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve Michael, but it must have been good.