“Then why do you call him Lieutenant Governor?” I ask. “Wouldn't Governor make more sense?”
“Canada, man. Canada. Tell you what, over the off-season, come by my house. I'll give you my son's old social studies book. After all, it looks like you'll be sticking around quite a while.”
“Deal. It'd be nice to see where you live. Sort of get used to the idea of family.”
The tag next to the exam room door changes, and the door opens. April's still inside, but Dr. Banks comes to the door. “Mr. Paulson? We've completed our tests.”
I swallow at the doctor's tone. She sounds so serious still. She glances at Vince, recognizing him, then back at me, and I get up carefully, my feet tingling and my hands going numb.
I go into the exam room, bumping my shoulder on the door frame as I see April's face. She looking down, picking at her thumbnail, and I can't help it, I just want to hold her. I rush over and pick her up, holding her tight. “It's okay, babe. I love you. I promise . . . I'll be here.”
“Mr. Paulson, have a seat please,” Dr. Banks says, and I set April down carefully, afraid I might break her. “Mr. Paulson, I'm sorry it took so long. There were a few extra tests that I wanted to run when I did my interviews with Miss Gray, and while the tests were easy enough, I didn't have the supplies and had to get them from the dispensary.”
“The what?”
“The pharmacy,” Vince, who's followed me and is leaning in the doorway, says. I nod gratefully, but barely acknowledge him other than that.
“So?”
“We have figured out what is the cause of Miss Gray's mood swings and some of her other symptoms,” Dr. Banks says, reaching over. “She has . . . well, some might call it a parasite.”
“A parasite? Like, something inside her? Can it be removed?” I ask hurriedly, taking April's hand. “Tell me that she's going to be okay at least, Doc.”
“Oh, she'll be fine,” Dr. Banks says. “As for removal, well, it’s possible, but most people decide to let the parasite come out naturally.”
“What? What type of fucked up Canadian thinking is this? You just let a parasite stay until it decides to come out on its own? What the hell . . .”
“What do you want to name it?” April asks, and I hear a smile in her voice. I look over and see that she's still looking down, trying to suppress a grin, and I'm confused. “Most people name them.”
“Name? What are you talking about? Who names a parasite?”
“I named my first one Timothy, and the second Stephen,” Vince says, laughing, and I feel like everyone's in on the joke but me. I'm still confused, scared and worried, and why the fuck won't someone tell me what's going on?
“Mr. Paulson . . . your fiancée is pregnant,” Dr. Banks says, and suddenly, it all becomes so clear. Parasite. Ha. A good one.
I'm too stunned to laugh though, and I look at April. “You mean . . . we're going to be parents?”
April nods and turns her head, and I can see that she's smiling and crying at the same time. “Yeah. Congratulations, Tyler. You're going to be a father.”
I hop off the table and pick her up again, hugging her tightly. “No, thank you for being the perfect woman for me, and the only woman who I want to ever have children with.”
We stay there, holding each other tightly, until Vince clears his throat. I set April down again and look over at him. “Do I get to tell the guys? I mean, before practice today. Or would you two like that honor?”
I look at April, who smiles. “May I?”
I nod and kiss her sweetly on her precious lips. “Of course, my love. How do you want to do it?”
April smirks, and in that smile, I see forever, and it looks perfect.
Epilogue
April
“So you made the announcement over the stadium PA system?” Carrie Hart, Duncan’s wife, asks, stroking her belly. She's huge, and if that baby doesn't come out at least four kilograms I'm going to be surprised. It's a little strange to be talking to her without either of our mates present, but I wanted to invite her personally. After all, while Duncan is most likely going to be Tyler's best man, I would love to have Carrie join my group of bridesmaids if she's able. “How'd everyone react?”
“They gave Tyler a water bucket shower right at the end of practice,” I laugh, “while I was watching from the stands. They would have done it earlier, but with practice temps dropping into the single digits, they didn't want their star QB to catch a cold.”
“Single digits? Jesus, how are you not freezing?” Carrie asks, then catches herself. “Oh yeah, Celsius. What's that, about forty, forty-five our scale?”
“Something like that. I can do pounds to kilos and miles to kilometers, but the temperature still screws me up. It's getting colder now though, I mean this was two weeks ago Carrie.”
I hear the apartment door open, and Tyler comes in, grinning. “Hey babe.”