"And now – their first dance as husband and wife …"
Cristina sighs as she watches from the sidelines. She observes as Meredith steps into Derek's arms, and they begin to waltz. She looks around at the guests at the outdoor reception, and wonders how long she has to stay.
I hate weddings, she thinks. And right now, I hate watching anyone be happy, even my person. And I don't even like this traditional first dance crap.
She idly traces a circle on her belly. I wonder if Dr Wyatt has any ideas on how to handle this? She's come to grudgingly admire the therapist's no-nonsense style, through her sessions and the few sessions with Owen.
Cristina's shaken out of her thoughts by a strong gust of wind that comes over from the harbour, blowing leaves and debris over the reception. She scowls and brushes some dead grass off of her dress.
"You – you've got something in your hair," a deep voice says.
She looks to her right and sees Owen, handsome in a suit.
"May I?" He gestures to her head. She nods.
He smiles softly and plucks a feather out of her wavy hair, lets it fall to the ground. She gently nods her thanks.
"You look beautiful," he says quietly.
She regards him thoughtfully. They've been at ease with each other lately, working side by side, having coffee, meeting with Dr Wyatt. It would not be out of place if they were to say, dance together tonight.
But there is one thing that they haven't talked about yet, and it can't be put off too much longer. She grabs his hand, to his great surprise.
"We need to talk," she says decisively, pulling him indoors into the church hall. She guides him to a small unoccupied office and shuts the door.
He leans against the desk. "So…"
She draws a deep breath. "I'm pregnant." She hugs herself and looks at the floor. Silence.
Cristina looks up cautiously. He's staring at her, stunned, apparently waiting for her to continue.
She looks back at the floor and the words spill out. "You're the first one to know. I'm keeping it. I realize the timing is terrible, but I didn't plan this, you know. I haven't known how to tell you but I thought you should know before it became apparent. You can be as involved as much or as little as you like. I understand if you can't be involved right now."
She turns to go – and he springs forward, grabbing her arm, gently spinning her around. He holds onto her shoulders, as if for strength, staring down at her. They both sway slightly.
"You're pregnant," he says quietly. She nods.
"But you said you're on the pill." He looks puzzled.
"I was, yes. Not anymore, obviously. Evidently the pill and my one fallopian tube are no obstacles for your bad ass sperm," she laughs nervously.
He peers down at her. "One?"
"Oh," she says. "I was pregnant once before. Ectopic. Guess I never mentioned that."
He tilts his head, confused. "No. No, you didn't."
"Guess we have more to talk about in therapy." She looks up at him. "So…?"
Owen coughs nervously. "So. We're having a baby." He tentatively squeezes her shoulders.
"We're?" She feels the first stirrings of hope.
"Like hell you're going through this alone," he says huskily, brushing a dark curl off of her face. "I'm surprised, yes, but not unhappy."
"This – isn't going to interfere too much with your healing, I hope," she says quietly.
His face softens. "It's one more thing to look forward to."
"What else are you looking forward to?" she asks hopefully.
"This." He leans down and kisses her softly, gently pressing her against the door. She smiles, deepening the kiss and gently stroking his face with her hands.
"God, I've missed your beard," she whispers.
He laughs. His fingers tentatively touch her belly. "May I?"
"You don't ever need to ask permission to touch me," she whispers, placing his hands directly on her belly, which is growing firmer week by week.
He smiles softly and stands there for a moment, then looks away. "If – if circumstances were different…"
"I'd – be down on one knee and asking you something. But I can't do that now." He looks quickly at her.
"I can't do that either," she says candidly. "Not now. Let's just deal with this first." She places her hands over his.
"I'm going to be here for this," he assures her, looking her in the eyes. "Every doctor's appointment, Lamaze class, labour, changing diapers, picking out a daycare, everything. I won't let you down."
"I know." She squeezes his hands gently. They stand in blissful silence.
"How do you feel about this?" he asks quietly.
She smiles. "Happy. Scared. Determined. I'm not a religious or a spiritual person. This – this feels like it was meant to be." She leans her head against his chest. "We can do this."
He strokes her hair with one hand, using his other hand to tilt her chin up for a kiss. "We can do this together," he murmurs.
She kisses him back, wrapping her arms around his waist. I'm happy, she thinks in wonder.
"So now what?" he asks.
"Let's go dance," she says. "We'll figure the rest out later."