Who's the Daddy?! (When in London Pt.2!)

Chapter 9 Michael Phelps

Things SORTA worked out??? I guess?? I mean, Ryan always wanted a kid... and I always wanted Ryan

.........................................................so I guess it's a win win. Things are looking up.

DON'T JINX IT, WENDY HAMILTON.

TOO LATE.

It was four months in on my pregnancy when Michael showed up at my door.

I haven't seen him since... well, since that night. That I couldn't remember.

I came out of my room and was about to sit next to Ryan on the love seat when the doorbell rang.

He got up to answer it.

I heard the door swing open and then Ryan say, "Old man Phelps. What the hell are YOU doing here?"

My heart stopped and I hid behind the wall. Michael couldn't see me. I'm too embarrassed.

"I need to see Wendy," he said sternly. "Is she here?"

"You're gonna see her tomorrow at the banquet," Ryan answered. "Why? Is there anything wrong?"

I heard Michael slam his fist onto the wooden door.

"You're taking her to the banquet??" he raised his voice. "Lochte, she isn't like us."

I felt a stab of hurt.

"What do you mean she's 'not like us?'" Ryan challenged. "Are you saying just because she's not an Olympian she isn't welcome? Jesus Christ, Adrian's taking his girlfriend for God sake. Why can't I?!"

Michael shook in frustration. Then I heard him speak in a loud voice,

"She has a family to think about."

I stopped dead in my tracks. My world spun around me. I clutched the wall as my baby kicked inside me, as if Michael's presence made the baby act on instinct, like some known reaction.

"How dare you say that? Wendy HAS no family," Ryan said slowly. I got the impression he was trying to convince himself. The words cut me like knives.

"That's not what I meant," Michael said impatiently. Then he raked his hair and continued.

"You can't take her to that banquet. She's vulnerable. She needs to rest. Just tell her to stay in New York. She'll do so if you just ask."

There was silence between them. Michael knew I was pregnant.  Then Ryan spoke,

"Who told you?"

Michael flexed his muscles threateningly.

"What are you talking about?" he was good at playing the stupid game.

Ryan shook his head. "Never mind." He was just about to close the door when Michael said one last thing.

"Please, Lochte. Do what's best for her."

There was even more silence. I thought Michael left but then I heard Ryan's voice.

"You sound like my father," he said solemnly.

Michael chuckled and then replied quietly.

"At least you HAD a father."

And then he walked away.