UNPLANNED

Part 5

An unexpected phone call from Harry while he was out of town certainly wasn't what your rising level of hormones needed. You were seven weeks pregnant, nauseous at random times in the day, and still incredibly tight lipped about the tiny pea-sized human inside of you.

But the phone call wasn't really what had you in tears–it was his request for a FaceTime call so you could meet his mum and his sister. He promised that they were shocked but excited nonetheless, happy that you weren't a complete stranger and certainly not just a random hook up.

Okay, so I guess he's a liar, Lexi laughed, unintentionally dredging up the embarrassment that slept in the pit of your stomach.

But he swore they were excited, especially once he promised you that he didn't make it sound like you were a longtime friend or a girlfriend. Don't lie to them about how we know each other, Harry, don't make it sound like this wasn't an accident.

So when the call came across your phone, you swallowed the panic and the nausea and hoped for the best. Lexi and Glenne sipped margaritas at the counter and pretended they weren't there. They wrote notes on paper and slid suggestions your way. Ask about what they've done as a family while he's home. Say you can't wait to meet them in person!

It was fine enough–they wished you well and promised to meet face to face soon. His mother cried a bit and said she was happy–shocked, I'm not going to lie, but happy nonetheless.

So you didn't expect to hear from him for a few days. He'd be home on Sunday–he'd mentioned it in passing on the FaceTime call–so you were sure you'd have time to settle and prepare for whatever was upcoming.

But when your phone rang on the counter Thursday night, Lexi was eating a bowl of cereal in her underwear in front of an SVU marathon. You slid your thumb across the screen to answer it.

"Hello?"

His voice was quiet, you tried to do the math of what time it was there. "Hi–s'me."

"Hi," you paused to stand over the sink, your back to Lexi for whatever sliver of privacy your apartment could afford.

"What are you up to?"

"Just got home from work, actually. We're just gonna hang out tonight, kind of tired, honestly."

He hummed in response, you could hear the sleep in his voice. You wondered where he was. In bed? About to brush his teeth? You didn't ask why he called.

"Do you feel alright?"

"Yeah," you reassured. "I'm fine. Kind of nauseous and just more tired than usual–but I think that's normal."

"Right. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

"I know," you laughed. "It's been a minute. What have you been up to?"

"A lot of meetings, honestly. Spent a few nights in London for a photoshoot for the album cover, merch stuff. Nothing too exciting."

You held the phone in place with your shoulder, shifting over to the fridge to find an appetizing snack. "That sounds cool–better than getting angry emails about your font choice."

"Yeah I can't say I've experienced that. But look, I, uh, I'm glad you got to talk to my family the other night."

You paused, a swell of emotion in your eyes. It might not have been your most cherished social interaction to date, but he hadn't said anything to make you think it had crashed and burned. "Me too, it was almost sort of fun–aside from all the crying I'm doing."