A Kiss for a Kiss (All In 4)

Hanna

THE FLIGHT HOME is much different from the flight to Seattle. My nerves over seeing Jake have been replaced with a million new fears that compound each other.

It’s far too late to call Paxton when I land, and, of course, I’ve been vague in my texts about how the weekend went. We need a face-to-face for this conversation. I need my best friend and her perspective.

I take my phone off airplane mode as we head toward the gate to deplane. I have several messages from Jake. It’s hard to keep a clear head with him, and up until now the most difficult conversations we’ve had revolved around wedding planning. This is life-altering, and while I appreciate that he wants to be involved, I cannot and will not let him, or anyone else, tell me what I have to do and when. Talking about moving right now is pointless. I need to see my doctor before I can make decisions about anything. I’m also acutely aware of how uncertain the next several weeks are going to be.

I pull up the messages, nervous all over again.

Jake: I know you’re still in the air, but I want you to know that whatever you need I’m going to be here for you.

Jake: You don’t have to worry about not getting the support you deserve. Emotional, or otherwise. I know you’re a strong, independent (sexy) woman and you’re more than capable of doing this on your own, but I will stand by your side every step of the way.

Jake: I’ve set up a pregnancy calendar so we can track appointments and milestones in the coming weeks.

Jake: Flight tracker says you just landed. Checking in to make sure you arrived in Tennessee.

Jake: I probably look like a desperate stalker at this point with the number of messages I’ve sent. Five hours is a lot of time to think.

I nearly burst into tears, my relief overwhelming. I didn’t know how much I needed these messages until I read them. I manage to keep my emotions under control as I message to let him know I’ve landed and I’m about to get my car and drive home, but that I’ll text again as soon as I walk in the door.

It takes twenty minutes to get through the airport, and then I have to find my car, which proves to be more difficult than I expect because I usually take a picture of where it’s parked so I don’t forget. Unfortunately, I was in a rush on my way out of town, so there’s a bit of guesswork involved.

An hour after I land, I walk through the door to my townhouse and drop my bag onto the floor. I fire off a message to Ryan to let him know I’m home and then do the same with Jake.

My phone rings two seconds later.

“Hey.”

“Hey. I’m glad you’re home safe. Was the flight okay?” Jake’s voice is low and soft.

“It was good.”

“Good. That’s good.”

I don’t know how to do this with him now. Everything that was fun and light and easy suddenly isn’t.

“Hanna, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.” My stomach does a flip-flop at his serious tone.

“I know that we’ve both been through this before, and that it’s a lot different this time. I don’t know how this all feels for you, but if I’m overbearing or overstepping, I want you to tell me, okay? I want us to try to be as open and honest about where we’re at as we can.” Jake’s tone is earnest.

“I’ll try my best to do that.” I’m already more optimistic than I was when I left Seattle.

“Good. Me, too. You must be exhausted, so I’m going to let you go, but if you need anything, I’m a phone call away.”

_______________

I WAKE UP the next morning feeling like a bag of garbage. I’m very glad I don’t have any meetings scheduled first thing, because I’m not actually capable of functioning.

I don’t remember the nausea being this bad, although combined with jet lag and stress, it seems to be a pretty horrible trifecta. I find a sleeve of saltines and park myself on the couch, munching my way through half of them while I wait for the queasy feeling to subside.

Seattle is only two hours behind, but Jake messaged this morning to see how I slept. And to check if I got the link to the shared calendar and if I’ve gotten ahold of my doctor.

My head is throbbing, likely from the lack of caffeine, but I’m not sure I can handle the smell of coffee yet. I hope this phase doesn’t last long. Cutting caffeine cold turkey will not be pleasant.

I decide my best plan is to call my doctor again before I do anything else. However, it turns out I’ve slept through a call from them already. And that I happen to have an appointment in less than an hour. It means I only have enough time to throw on some clothes and pull my hair into a ponytail before I’m out the door.