Hunter arrived on Friday evening. I’d been kind of dreading his extended stay, but ran around making sure the apartment was spotless and filling the refrigerator with groceries and beer.

When I got home from work, Brady and Hunter were already there. We were going to dinner and then possibly out for drinks after.

“Heyyy, Reese,” Hunter greeted me when I walked through the door.

I’d decided I would play nice and try to have a better relationship with him (I give Hunter shit for everything he does even though it is not my place), so I said, “Hey! How was your flight?”

He gave me a side hug which I feel is sometimes even more awkward. Just hug me like a normal person. “It was nice. Flew right by. You can even tell you’re pregnant by your face. Wow.”

Brady knew the comment was rude and his panicky eyes quickly cut to me.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“Our reservation is at 8:30 so we should start getting ready,” Brady said.

“Cool. I was gonna make a drink. Anyone want anything?” Hunter said.

“Whatever you’re having,” Brady said and then Hunter looked at me expectantly.

I walked off without saying anything. After showering, I changed into a red floral wrap dress and small heels. Recently I went on a shopping spree for non-maternity clothes that I can wear while pregnant while not looking pregnant. Am I still trying to hide it? I haven’t even bought anything (except a onesie from an Instagram ad) for the baby which concerned Kendra.

“Are you like, not excited?” she asked.

Honestly, I’m waiting for the baby shower she’s throwing for me. I don’t even know what I’m having yet! Plus, I’ve just been concerned about other things. Like the fact that Brady wants to move to Connecticut. More on that later.

When I emerged from the bedroom, Brady and Hunter were standing at the bar area with tall glasses of what looked like vodka Red Bulls.

“She’s alive,” Hunter said, smiling.

I rolled my eyes.

Brady grabbed my waist gently because he treats me like I’ll break and said, “You are so beautiful.”

“She is, but let’s go. I’m fucking starving,” Hunter said.

We went to a new American restaurant where I watched them pound down beer after beer. They barely even touched their food (in fact, I ate half of Brady’s macaroni and cheese). Hunter talked about Dom at dinner, which was a surprise since usually I’m the one who brings her up.

“The wifey is talking about baby number three,” he said. “Said she misses the kids when they were babies. We just got our sleep pattern back on track.”

“Really?” I exclaimed because the last thing those two need to be doing is having more children.

Hunter shrugged. “We always said we’d have a big family. Don’t you want your kid to have a lot of cousins to play with?”

Later in the evening, the place turned off the lights and took the tables away so it’s like a little nightclub. Brady and Hunter were drunk.

“Three shots of Maker’s Mark,” Hunter said to the bartender and then looked back at me. “Actually, make that two shots.”

That annoyed me plus I was stuffed and ready to pass out. So I went home.

They got home later, a little after 3am and made a ton of noise while making drinks in the kitchen. And then, they took their party out to the terrace where they continued being loud and probably waking the entire neighborhood up.

I got up and went to the door to confront them wearing just one of Brady’s Cubs t-shirts. Before I could say anything, Drunk Hunter said, “Take that fucking shirt off!”

And maybe it’s because I have inappropriate thoughts about Hunter already or because the t-shirt was literally the only thing I was wearing, but I could not believe the crude comment he made in front of Brady, who just smirked. I didn’t even know what to say and let out a little gasp.

“I…what?” And then I realized that Hunter must not like the Cubs and that was why he was telling me to remove my shirt, not because he wanted to see my pregnant ass naked. “Y’all need to shut up. It’s 4 o’clock in the morning.”

Another day in the weekend, I was in the kitchen making an arugula, prosciutto and burrata salad with a strawberry vinaigrette and meatballs and Hunter needed to get past me. We have a galley kitchen and it’s narrow and on his way past, Hunter touched my hip lightly. Like not my back or my waist, but my hip which was much lower than what I think is appropriate. His hands are huge. And of course after that encounter, I immediately had a dirty dream about him.

Other than that, I’m mostly just annoyed at how much Hunter eats. Obviously Brady and I eat a ton, but feeding Hunter is like feeding a village. I had to replenish the refrigerator before his first weekend was even over. And y’all know I hate for people to eat my food. Oh, and I also hate how he objectifies women and Brady does not hold him accountable for that. One day we were sitting on a restaurant’s patio and he was watching women walk past.

“Damn, legs for days,” he mumbled about a young girl in short shorts.

“Ew!” I said loudly and Brady acted like he didn’t see any of it. Hunter winked at me.

One night before Hunter came, Brady handed me his phone where a bunch of pictures of an empty house were displayed. It was beautiful – with wood planked floors, brightly painted white walls, vaulted ceilings, a big deck and a backyard.

“What’s this?” I asked because he’d given me no context.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I mean, yeah. Where is it?” I said back.

Brady took his phone back. “It’s in Connecticut. A lot of my coworkers who have children live there.”

“Connecticut,” I repeated.

“Really, it’s the only way we’d be able to get as much room as we need for all of us,” he explained.

“All of us? I’m pretty sure all of us can fit in New York without having to move out of the state.”

“We’d still be able to commute into the city. A lot of people do it. I think if we want to buy, that’s where we should be looking.”

So instead of entertaining his little Connecticut idea, I searched for two bedrooms in New York which actually proved difficult with our budget and requirements (I will not not have in-unit laundry). And Brady sent a couple more he’d found, equally as spacious and beautiful. I’m not fucking moving to Connecticut.

Mike hired a VP. And she’s my age (well, 30). He didn’t even tell me he was looking for someone. I walked in one Monday and this tall blonde was walking briskly through our lobby area. She waved quickly and continued on. I didn’t think anything of it until Mike sent out a company-wide email telling us to welcome Paige, our new Vice President, to the team. He went on to talk about her experience and accolades and said she’d be working on “strategy” with him.

I decided to stop by Mike’s office to confront him and I passed Paige in the hallway. She didn’t plan on saying anything to me, I could tell, and I can’t stand that. Especially in our small office and especially from someone in a high level role.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Reese,” I said.

“Oh, hi! Nice to meet you, Reese,” she said. She didn’t reach to shake my hand which is another pet peeve. Clearly I could’ve shaken her hand first, but she’s the VP, not me. So I stuck my hand out to shake hers.

“How’s your first day going?”

“Really, really busy. I’ll set up some time for us to TB later in the week, k?” Paige scampered off.

Kristina and I spent the rest of the day finding all her socials and discussing our first impressions of her.

At our touchbase later in the week, the first thing Paige said was, “Is it true that you’re pregnant?” Which I thought was really awkward.

“I am,” I said, opening my laptop. “I’m glad that the news made its way to you.”

“Congratulations. You look fantastic,” she said. I noted the huge princess cut diamond on her left ring finger – even more impressive than it looked on Instagram. And I watched as she looked for a ring on my finger.

I walked her through some of the reports and what I do on the daily. She’s actually really smart and well spoken and asks really good, relevant questions. Maybe she isn’t so bad.

And then, Brendan. We had lunch the other day. He stopped by the office and as usual, Paige was running out the door because she’s just so busy.

“Who’s that?” Brendan asked as she breezed past us.

“I don’t know. Mike hired her,” I replied.

We got to lunch where we ordered salads and talked shop a bit. There was a lull in the conversation and Brendan asked awkwardly, “So…how does it feel to be having a baby?”

I wasn’t expecting that. And I feel like I really don’t think about it because people don’t typically ask that. Usually it’s, “Do you know what you’re having and what what do you hope it is?” and “What are you doing for your gender reveal?”

“It feels really weird. I don’t think it’s hit me yet. Like, I’m going to be someone’s mom,” I said back. Every time I realize that, I start tearing up.

“That’s awesome. You must be excited.”

“Eh, yeah.” I don’t know if excited is the word. I have visions of a sweet, beautiful baby with blue eyes and then I immediately think of them growing into a teenager and hating me. And then I picture myself as a 45 year old. And then I want to vomit.

As I was calendar stalking, I saw that Paige had set up a intro meeting with Brendan (not Thomas, just Brendan) and that triggered me. Usually Brendan only works with me and/or sometimes Mike (they are besties) because Thomas handles their accounts. Not sure why Paige thinks she needs to meet with Brendan, but I’m not pleased.

Anyway, I find out what I’m having on Friday and I actually am really excited about that. I’m also excited for Hunter to leave on Sunday. Two weeks is way too long of a visit.