THIRTY-SEVEN

"And I never got past what you put me through

But it's wonderful to see that it never phased you!"

———

August 19th, 2018

"My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue—"

"Oh my god..."

"All's well that ends well to end up with you!"

"Please—"

"Swear to be over-dramatic and true to my—"

"Dorothea—"

"LOVER!"

"That's a nice song," Ted chimed from the driver's seat. "Sounds like something Taylor might sing."

"It does, doesn't it!" Dorothea grinned across the backseat towards the blonde.

"I'm flattered." Taylor grinned back at her. "And I'm also revoking your song preview privileges."

Her smile flatlined. "I know where you keep your journals."

"I know how to buy you a flight to Texas."

"Why are you being so mean!" Dorothea flopped theatrically against the singer. She frowned as she felt the woman laughing beneath her. "Stop."

"No." Taylor continued smiling as Dorothea groaned loudly. "You know it's just a song lyric, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're being over-dramatic, Dorothea Jane,"

"I only learn from the best, Taylor Alison."

The older woman snorted under her breath, stroking Dorothea's hair. "You're lucky you're too pretty to smack in the face."

"Huh. Interesting," she hummed, "I guess my ass is a different story—"

"You both still want to stop at Luna's?" Ted cut in, flipping the vehicle's turn signal.

"Yes, please," Taylor answered, ignoring the burst of laughter at her side. She looked down at Dorothea, her voice lowered. "And then you can drive Thea to JFK."

"Good thing I'm too pregnant to board a plane," Dorothea sighed loudly.

"Well, shit," Taylor breathed, "looks like I'm stuck with you."

Dorothea smiled, leaning back against the blonde's chest. Behind them in the trunk were several large, rectangular cardboard boxes containing several framed prints of Dorothea's photography. The flowers —and ivy— that she'd captured back when they were in London. Ted had picked them up while they were at an appointment with Dr. Marshall, and now they were on their way back to TriBeCa to hang them up.

In the nursery.

The baby was now the size of a...baby. Perhaps just a little bit smaller, but much larger than a bean or peanut or ping-pong ball. She couldn't believe the pace at which time seemed to suddenly accelerate. Rather than being caught up in the idea of the After, she was...living it. The possibility of it, anyway. Tour stop after tour stop. Photo after photo. Night after night with the singer at her side.

All along, Dorothea had assumed the real After wouldn't arrive until Ivy had been born, and part of her still feared that would be the case. The glimpses of the After she'd been experiencing for the past eight months had been almost...perfect, yet they had also been swirled with traces of her tangled Before. Unwelcome storm clouds in her cotton candy sky.

But perhaps the Perfect After wasn't Real.

"All right. Here we are," Ted announced, sliding the SUV into an open slot along the curb. "I'll be right back. If one of you can just text me what you both want..."

"I can run in," Dorothea volunteered, breaking away from the blonde and unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Nonsense," Ted disagreed, putting his hand up and turning towards the door, "you're over eight-months pregnant—"

"And sometimes I like to pretend otherwise," she countered.

"Babe," Taylor chimed, "less than an hour ago Dr. Marshall was telling you that you really have to start taking it easy."

"Well, I don't think walking ten feet into a coffee shop is what she meant." Dorothea laughed, popping her door open and stepping onto the sidewalk.

But Ted and Taylor were right. At this point she was down to a solid three pairs of shoes that her feet could actually fit in. It didn't matter if she'd been lying down for hours. Her feet appeared to be permanently swollen and an angry shade of pink. If she stood for more than five minutes, the pain started in her lower back and would stab its way up her spine.

She had walked past her VMAs outfit in the singer's bedroom that morning and literally cackled at the sight of the heels. She'd be lucky if she could even get her toes through the straps. Once again, she —selfishly— felt that pregnancy had robbed her of yet another thing.

And so now that she was told to walk less, she had a burning desire to move more. And at the end of the week she was going to stuff her feet in those damn shoes, even if her toes bled.

Dorothea followed a couple into the shop as a bell jangled over the door. There was a bit of a line, but it seemed to be moving steadily. There was also a large group of customers standing by waiting for orders, as well as people seated at the mismatched tables, making the space feel quite crowded. As she waited, multiple people had brushed up against her as they tried to pass by and all had the exact same reaction: Eyes bugging, apologizing profusely as though they had knocked her to the ground. In eight months, Dorothea had come to realize that people quite literally had no clue how to handle the presence of a pregnant person.

She thought it was hilarious.

After a few minutes of waiting in line, Dorothea felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

T.

10:22am

Iced Americano, please 😇

Also you made Ted feel like an asshole

and now I'm trying to explain to him

that it's you, not him.

Dorothea smirked and swiped out of the message without responding, and no less than ten seconds later her pocket vibrated once again.

Exactly.

Only assholes use read receipts.

Dorothea laughed, about to type a response only to realize she had reached the front of the line.

"Hi! What can I get you?"

I literally see you reading my texts

through the window

you little shit

Dorothea threw her unlocked phone into her purse and smiled at the cashier. "Hi, let's see..." She hummed.

Once Dorothea paid for the order, she pulled out her phone.

Oh shit

I forgot your drink

my bad lol

A

S

S

"Large iced coffee for Nick!"

H

O

L

E

"Yeah, right here!"

Dorothea dropped her phone. All of the color drained from her face as she immediately bent to grab it, but was easily beaten by the kind stranger at her side. She could feel the person's eyes linger on her for a moment as she thanked her.

Dorothea counted to sixty before she let herself look up from her swollen feet.

He was still there.

Dorothea stepped closer to the wall, allowing several more people to fill in between her and her ex-boyfriend. Her heart drummed wildly as she took in his six-foot-plus presence. He looked like he'd just left the gym, black t-shirt, joggers, and sweaty hair beneath a backwards baseball cap. She watched as Nick took a sip of his coffee, arms crossed, steady gaze. Not having a clue that he was in the same room as his unborn child.

Part of her was stunned. She had nearly gone her entire pregnancy without seeing him. She had begun to assume that he wasn't even living in Manhattan. But of course, she should have known better. If Sophie truly did tell him she was pregnant, odds were that she was drunk and he didn't believe her. Thus, no reason to panic.

No guilt, no reason to run.

Dorothea's eyes shot to the door. Fuck the coffee, fuck Nick. As soon as she got to the car, she'd say his name and Taylor would instantly understand. They would high-tail it the rest of the way to the singer's apartment, disappear into its brick walls and hide until she could no longer feel her pulse in her eardrums.

But he was too close to the door. There was no way to get to the exit without walking right past him. Even if she managed some complicated, ridiculous route around the tables and people, he would notice her because she was at the point in her pregnancy where every single person on planet earth noticed her.

"Toasted sesame bagel with avocado for Nick!"

Dorothea's eyes followed him as he stepped forward and took the paper bag. He then turned towards the door, and she felt the knot in her throat finally unravel.

"Iced Americano and iced chai for Thea!"

Right as the bell on the door chimed above his head, he stopped.

Dorothea remained frozen against the wall.

His dark eyes circled the shop.

"I've got an iced Americano and iced chai for Thea, here!"

Dorothea's eyes were nailed to the floor. Then, ever-so-faintly above the noise, the bell chimed again.

He was gone.

Dorothea immediately went to the counter and grabbed the drinks. Once she reached the door, though, she hesitated. After looking up and down the block, she pushed the frame open and made a blind dash to the SUV. Ted was coming around the car  to get the door for her but she was already balancing the drinks and clambering inside.

Taylor's eyes widened as she gave a faint laugh. "Whoa there, where's the fire?"

"I was just kidding," Dorothea huffed. She was panting lightly as she turned and pulled her seatbelt over her waist. When she finally looked up at the singer, she gave a smile that didn't quite match the look in her eyes.

"I didn't forget your drink," she said.

"I mean, I figured it was a joke." Taylor laughed lightly. She eyed Dorothea cautiously as she took a sip from the straw. "Are you okay, Babe? You look like you've seen a ghost—"

"I—" Dorothea breathed, "I think I'm going into labor."