Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Everything looks good, Peyton. Your due date is going to be around January tenth.”
“Well, would you look at that?” I say so only she can hear. “I’m a cliché.”
Peyton laughs. “Everyone on social media will blame me, saying I should’ve planned this better to have a spring or summer baby.”
“Who cares what everyone thinks. We’re having a baby. If he or she comes on game day, oh well.”
“Peyton, I’ve copied your OB in Portland, per your request. Is your next appointment going to be here?” Dr. Ringman asks.
“Yes,” Peyton says. “I’m here until August and can come back for the monthly appointments. It’s the two-week ones that I’m concerned with.”
Dr. Ringman nods. “Okay, the only concern I have right now is bed rest and premature delivery in the third trimester. As soon as you hit your second trimester, we’re going to have you come in every two weeks to be on the safe side.”
Peyton glances at me briefly, and then at the doctor. “Maybe I should just keep all my appointments here?”
“That might be an undue financial burden.”
“My dad has a plane. It’s okay.” Peyton covers her face, shaking her head. “It’s not a problem,” she says.
I wait for Dr. Ringman to ask her to explain. She doesn’t, which is probably a relief to Peyton. Truth is, we’ll use the crap out of the private jet.
“Where do you plan to deliver?”
“Oh, um, I guess Portland.”
Dr. Ringman nods and types. “We don’t normally suggest the back and forth. I’m happy to see you until you return to Portland and then transfer your care over to your OB there.”
Peyton nods.
“I’ll see you back here in four weeks. Please don’t hesitate to call if you have questions.” She shakes our hands and leaves, along with Stephanie. As soon as the door closes, I help Peyton off the table and wait while she dresses.
“We had questions, and I forgot to ask.”
“We can look at the books when we get home,” she says. “I’m sure appointment expectations are in there somewhere.”
Peyton stops at the check-out, gets her appointment for next month and then we’re on our way. “What’s on the agenda?”
“I want to go shopping.”
I think the groan I let out can be heard all the way back to Beaumont.
“For baby stuff,” Peyton says. “At least I want to look at furniture. Get an idea of what’s out there and what we might like.”
“As long as I don’t have to try anything on, and some dude doesn’t ask me which way I hang. I hate that.”
Peyton laughs as I help her into the SUV. “That’s always a favorite question of mine.”
“Of course it is.” I shut the door and run around to the other side. As soon as I’m behind the driver’s seat, I say, “Okay, mama, where are we going?”
“Beverly Hills.”
Another groan, but I keep this one in check and let my ass pucker all the way to the store.
19
PEYTON
Someday, I’m going to look back on this adventure with Noah and ask myself, “Self, what the fuck were you thinking?” when it came to this damn road trip to Portland. It’s not that I’m seven weeks pregnant and miserable. I know those days are coming and I have months to prepare for them. It’s that we’re driving with a puppy. A puppy who is still potty training and can’t exactly ring the bell on the door when she wants to go out.
Noah’s oblivious to her needs as he drives I-5. He’s in the zone, thinking about Organized Team Activities. I tried to tell him he didn’t need to be there, but under the circumstances, he wants to show the organization he’s a leader. I question the latter because I swear if he could stick his head out the window like Stevie Nicks, he would. As is, we’re stopping every two hours to take her potty, but then I worry she’s not drinking enough water. And she’s restless. Whining because she’s cooped up in the car. I try to hold her, but that only lasts for a few minutes before she’s moving to the back. When we got on the road, I had her strapped in. I found a cute dog seat and, being the responsible pet owner I am, bought it. Along with the suggested harness and a blanket. The latter wasn’t needed, but it was sitting there on the app, so I figured why the hell not?
Stevie Nicks hates it.
Noah says it’s because she wants to be with us, which I would agree with if she wasn’t in the back trying to chew on things she shouldn’t and acting all innocent when I scold her. And I’m the only one who can because Noah’s driving, which makes me the bad guy.
“Why didn’t we fly?”
“Because we thought it would hurt her ears,” Noah says.
“Other dogs fly. Why did you talk me out of flying?”