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Darcy Rhone is a total MILF (total_milf) wrote in wariscoming,

Still sniffling — "Don't sniffle, Darcy Jane. That's unattractive and unladylike; go get a tissue and blow your nose. Primly! No one needs to hear a foghorn, either," — and wiping at her eyes as they continued to leak, Darcy allowed herself to be led back toward the elevators with Phoebe. She only nodded and followed dutifully, unable and unwanting to change course. She held her stomach and thought to Baby A and Baby B, whom she still hadn't gotten around to naming, that she did want them. She was going to be a good mother, if it killed her. She was sorry that she hadn't wanted them and she was sorry she'd been so bitter, but things were going to change and they had already started to. She was excited for them, even if she was still terrified beyond all recognition. They were hers and she was going to love them. She wanted them to know it.

Phoebe led her into what was, presumably, her own room and Darcy followed silently, red-rimmed eyes pointed downward, because she couldn't make herself look at the other woman. She only nodded that tea sounded good. Cookies sounded better, but she'd only pick at them, even if she was hungry, because Darcy was already as big as a house and she didn't want Phoebe to see her new addiction to food, even if everyone kept telling her it was perfectly acceptable.

She sat when Phoebe motioned for her to do so and she curled up in the corner of the couch, hugging one of the pillows, allowing herself to completely forget that this woman was essentially a stranger and this couch and pillow weren't Darcy's to cry all over. Still silently crying, she finally looked up when Phoebe started to talk about her own pregnancy. In perspective, Darcy's experience was not that bad. Even if one figured in the fact that it had stemmed from an affair while she'd been engaged and that both of those men left her in the end. She figured that her expression was enough to show that she sympathized and understood the moral of the story: It could be so much worse, Darce.

Darcy didn't speak again until she was pointedly asked a question, at which point, she nodded weakly and, in a watery, wobbly voice answered, "Quinn and Puck suggested Dr. Tam, since I don't have a job right now. I've seen him once and had an appointment just before I got here, too," she replied. "I'll go back in, too, I mean...but just, I haven't needed to just yet; it was only last week."

She cleared her throat, while watching Phoebe getting together the tea and cookies — "You don't need cookies, Darcy Jane. Love and success are not at the bottom of a cookie jar and you'll never find a husband in the back of the refrigerator," — trying to remind herself that she would need to at least eat one to avoid a lecture of some kind about eating for three. "Thank you," she finished in a small voice.