Page 91

Collins:You have a meeting at 9.
Kit:You’re not the only one with access to my calendar and the ability to read, Monty. I know I have a meeting at 9.
Collins:You don’t have tocome.
Kit:What happened to no outs once I was in?
Collins:That kicks in after the baby is born.
Kit:It kicked in a long time ago. I will be there.
Kit:At 9.
Collins:Okay.
Standing outside an obstetrician’s office solo is a unique experience. In the ten minutes I’ve been leaning against the brick exterior of Collins’s doctor’s office, I’ve received quite the array of looks. Some amused, others concerned. Five minutes ago, I pulled out my phone to answer emails as a temporary distraction.
“Sorry, sorry!”
I glance up to see Collins jogging toward me. She has a green scarf draped around her neck that’s flying behind her like a kite. It’s cold and gray and windy today.
“Train was late,” she adds between rapid breaths, coming to a halt in front of me.
“Another reason you should have let me drive you,” I tell her.
“Yeah, yeah,” Collins grumbles. “Good morning to you too.”
I smile, watching her glance at the building and then fiddle with the zipper of her jacket. “You ready?”
“Nope.” She laughs, but it’s thin. One for show, lacking any true substance. “Let’s go.”
“Okay.” I slip my phone into my pocket and start toward the entrance. Only to get stopped by a quick tug on my sleeve.
Collins’s eyes are wide and worried. “What if something’swrong, Kit? What if there’s no heartbeat or it’s an ectopic pregnancy or the baby has a disease that?—”
“Breathe, Monty.” I wrap her wayward scarf more securely around her neck, then use it to pull her a little closer. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“How do you know that? Youcan’tknow that! There could be something wrong, and I’m just trying to … prepare.”
“You don’t need to prepare for anything. On theveryslim,extremelyunlikely chance that there’s anything out of the ordinary, we will handle it. And worrying won’t help. Okay?”
Collins is gnawing on her bottom lip as she nods.
“Not good enough. Say it.Everything is going to be fine.”
“Okay, you’re right—and enjoy hearing that because I might not ever have a reason to say it again.”
I bite back a smile. “I know I am. So, say it. Tell me what I’m right about.”
“Everything is going to be fine,” she whispers.
“That’s my girl.” I kiss her forehead, then open the door and gesture for her to walk in. “Ladies first.”
Her laugh is more solid this time. “Since when are you a gentleman?”
“I’ve always been a gentleman. Except”—I lower my voice and wink—“when you asked me not to be.”
“A consequential request, it turned out.” She gestures toward her midsection.