Just in Time (A Tom Hiddleston Fan Fic)

Chapter 26: Punching Bags and Restrooms

A/N: Hello, lovely readers. I'm sorry for the short chapter. I promise the next one will be longer.

I love getting comments, so please keep them coming!

Enjoy!

DG4L

Six months later...

Time has flown by. It seems like only yesterday I was peeing on a stick and finding out about my little Champ. I call her Champ because, at a very early stage in my pregnancy, she started moving around...a lot...including what felt like making my bladder her punching bag. I suppose Champ is a a lot like her father - she can't seem to stay still for a minute.

I also don't know whether Champ is a boy or a girl, though I feel like she's a girl so I refer to her as 'she' and 'her'. I tell people when they ask that I want it to be a surprise, that it doesn't really matter as long as the baby is healthy. The last part is absolutely true, though the not knowing just feels like it's our little secret - mine and Champ's - that the world will have to wait to discover in due time.

"Are you going to eat that?" I ask Hector, already reaching across the table for his garlic bread. He sighs as I take it but says nothing.

Hector and I are eating dinner at my favorite Italian place. Actually, any place with food that has lots of carbs is my favorite these days. Luckily, my doctor says my weight gain has been acceptable, and I take pregnancy fitness classes a few days a week - not just for myself but I hear it's good for Champ as well. Because I know I have a Type-A personality, I've also started yoga and meditation. After all, if Champ is going to have any chance of being a normal, relaxed human being, I figure I should start giving her an opportunity while she's in the womb.

"When are you going to tell him?"

"Tell who what?" I ask, feigning ignorance.

"Tell the President that you didn't vote for him." Hector looks at me seriously for effect.

"Tell Tom about...you know what," he says, pointing at my baby bump.

I sigh and continue chewing on Hector's garlic bread. "What is there to tell?"

Hector looks at me like he can't believe what I just said and that he thinks I'm crazy. Okay, so Hector is sure I'm crazy. At least that's what he's said the last few times we've talked about this same topic.

"Look, Hector. As I've said many times, Tom did not want me sans baby, so why should I go running back to him now that he'll get what he wants."

"I don't know. Maybe because A) You need him, B) It's his baby, and C) He's the hottest guy on the planet, and for some odd reason which makes me question his sanity, he loves you and wants to take care of you."

I scoff at Hector. "I don't need him. I don't need any man."

Hector pushes his plate to the side then continues talking. "You're right. You're a strong, independent woman. But what about Champ? Wouldn't it be nice if she has two parents who love her? Even you have to admit, though a mother is a powerful force in a child's life, the bond between a father and a child is still important."

"I wouldn't know anything about that."

"You're right again. You don't. But wouldn't you like your child to know the love of her father?"

Damn Hector! Praying on my pregnancy hormones!

"Wait a minute? How do you know Tom wants to take care of me. He never said that to me, and I definitely never told you that."

Hector breaks his gaze with me, looking anywhere but in my eyes.

"What the fuck, Hector! Are you talking to Tom? Have you...have you told him about Champ?" My voice is somewhat louder than I realized, and Hector is trying to subtly calm me with hand signals and soft shushing noises. He also keeps glancing at my right hand. When I look down, I see I'm holding my fork like a weapon. See, never underestimate the power of pregnancy hormones.

When I calm down, Hector speaks again. "Yes, I have spoken to Tom. And, no, I have not told him about the baby. And watch your language," he finishes, pointing at my bump.

I release my breath and place my fork back on the table.

"Why did you talk to him?" I ask, looking down because I'm close to tears. The thing about pregnancy hormones is that my mood can go from angry to sad in a split second.

Hector reaches across the table and takes my hand. "Oh, Sweetie. I didn't call him. He called me."

"What?"

"He called me."

"Why?"

"What? Tom can't want to talk to me for no reason?"

I smile at Hector. He always knows how to brighten my mood. I close my eyes, take a few calming breaths and try to center my chakras like I learned in meditation class, then I look at Hector again.

"Come on, Handsome. Spill."

"Okay. Tom called me to check on you. He said he'd tried to call you several times, but you wouldn't take his calls. He also said his texts and emails remain unanswered." Hector takes a sip of his drink before continuing.

"He sounded pretty upset, Kenni. He said if you'd just talk to him, he was sure you'd be able to work it out. He said...he wants nothing more than to love and take care of you."

Tears form in my eyes again. I stand and excuse myself to the ladies room. I vowed a while ago to never cry over Tom again in public. Plus, I really have to pee.

I take care of my business and wash my hands. As I leave the restroom, I run into someone exiting the men's room. "I am so sorry, Dear," says a British voice. "That's quite alright. My fault," I say, meeting the man's gaze.

Holy hell...its Ben!