The Way Back

March Showers

He knew the plan. The details had been worked out over a month ago. Lindsey had received the credit card statements for flights and hotel arrangements, gratefully footing the bill. His involvement for the day was simple, and he was overjoyed he hadn't had to come up with a lame excuse to get Stevie out of the house. As he sat in the waiting room and peered down at Stevie's blonde head, he doubted if today was the best day to have a surprise waiting for her. The alarm sounded off early – too early – for the awful three-hour glucose test. She had to fast, get blood drawn four times, and guzzle down a sickeningly sweet orange flavored solution. Lindsey sighed and stretched his legs out, watching Stevie carefully as she closed her book and drew her hand to her forehead.

"You okay?" he whispered to her and eased an arm around her shoulders. Lindsey glanced at his watch, ten minutes until the next draw.

She shook her head. "I'm dizzy," she admitted, relaxing against him and letting her eyes close. Thankfully, the nausea had subsided from having to chug the high concentrated glucose drink in five minutes.

"It'll be over soon," he assured and held her tighter. Lindsey knew it was torture. He didn't know what idiot thought it was a brilliant idea to starve, repeatedly poke, and make a pregnant woman wait.

"I hate being stuck here. They should really look into getting a manicurist in these places."

"What? Why?" Lindsey asked, brows rising in confusion.

"To help pass the time. I know I'm here because I failed the first test, but it could be like a day spa. I could have gotten a pedicure and a manicure within the first hour, Linds."

Lindsey snickered and shook his head. "Only you, Steph."

"Don't laugh at me. I could easily knock out two birds with one stone. Have a relaxing pedicure or a facial and be tested," she explained. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, trailing her fingertip along his jaw. "You know, you're handsome from this angle."

"Thanks," he responded.

"And you need to trim your nose hair."

"Yes, dear," Lindsey replied sardonically.

Stevie cackled and rested a hand over her belly. "When we get out of here, I want chicken enchiladas and refried beans," she told him.

Lindsey twisted his face at the mention of Mexican food. She'd sent him out for beef empanadas for a solid week, and the week before had been chiles rellenos. He wanted to toss his cookies when she'd mixed tomatillo salsa and vanilla bean ice cream late one night. He felt queasy recalling the mixture.

She frowned at the repulsed look on his face. "It's what the babies want."

"Steph, our kids are going to turn into refried beans."

"It's what the babies want," she repeated. "Are you going to deny your children what they want? What will they think when I tell them this years from now?"

Lindsey rolled his eyes at her tactics. She always used the babies as a way of getting him to do things, and he had to regrettably admit that it worked every single time. "And they'll get it," he promised and stood to his feet, carefully helping her up from her seat as her name was called for the second time during the morning. "Ready?"

"No," she mumbled and shuffled down the hall to the exam room with him.

Lindsey held her hand and read one of the posters on the wall of the room. The following draw wasn't as smooth as the first. He felt Stevie's sharp nails dig into the palm of his hand. Lindsey grimaced and flattened his palm over her back, rubbing back and forth between her shoulder blades. He leaned in, whispering in her ear. "Think of enchiladas."