Delicate

Chapter 45

HAVEN MCQUEEN

Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I turn to the side and lift my shirt to see my stomach in my high-rise leggings. It's always appeared to be flat unless I've just eaten a massive meal, but I can't quite tell what it looks like now. Part of me thinks this is how I always look, but the longer I stare, I wonder if I can see anything that resembles a baby bump. Surely that's impossible for my body to be growing so quickly when I can't even be farther than a month along–not if Harry and I slept together the last week of November and it's only the first week of January.

But all of my questions are about to be answered as I finish getting dressed to go with my mom to see my OBGYN. We're still the only two people who know about it and I can't help but wonder if the fact that Harry is publicly in London all alone is helping me out with the lack of paparazzi over here. I've seen the articles suggesting that we've broken up after not being seen together for so long, but I don't think the paparazzi care to question me on that because I'm a nobody. If I were famous in my own right, maybe things would be different. All I know is that the timing couldn't be better, and I'm not complaining.

"You ready, hon?" My mom calls from the living room. "We don't wanna be late!"

"Yeah, I'm coming!" I tug a sweatshirt on over my T-shirt and step into my Ugg slippers, opting to dust a bit of blush on my cheeks at the last second. I'm not deathly ill the way I was earlier this week anymore, but I still look like I've been brought back from the grave as my body recovers.

With her keys in hand, my mom assures me that she can drive as I sling my leather tote over my shoulder and follow her out through the front door. We settle into her car, which continues to smell like brand-new leather and the interior is still spotless, and I direct her to the office I went to when I found out that I wasn't pregnant. I guess Dr. Watts will be surprised to see me back on the opposite side of the spectrum now.

"Are you feelin' alright?" Margaret spares me a glance. "No more nausea?"

"I threw up this morning," I correct her, "but I've been able to eat and I stop feeling sick by around one o'clock now. Or, that's how it's been for the last couple of days. I don't know if it'll stay like that."

"It's just different for everyone, I think," she nods. "I was only sick for the first week that I was pregnant, and the rest was mostly smooth sailing."

"Mm," I nod and adjust the rings on my fingers, but stay quiet when I'm not quite sure what else to say.

I've been scared of this upcoming appointment only because this is such unfamiliar territory for me. Obviously, I know I need to be aware of what's going to start happening to my body so that I can take care of myself and the baby, but I still feel like a baby. How am I supposed to take care of one?

"Yeah, just park here," I point to the white stucco building with the Spanish tile roof next to a rheumatologist as well as a plastic surgeon's office.

"Should we go get some work done?" She teases with a smirk, wiggling her brows, and I know she's just trying to make me laugh.

"Yeah, sure," I step out of the car as she does. "Just put it on Dad's credit card."

She laughs in return as she meets me around the hood of the car and rubs my back as we walk into the doctor's office. It's much more pleasant than the urgent care was and it smells nicer too; like a vanilla and sugar-scented air freshener. I can also appreciate the more comfortable lighting in the ceiling that doesn't make me feel like I'm about to take a standardized test in school.

"Hi, can I help you?" The woman at the desk smiles up at me.

"I have an appointment with Dr. Watts for Haven McQueen."