A/N: This story is very much based on real life. My husband and I just had our first children on May 7 & 8. They were boy girl twins, Ceron and Emerson. So most of the ideas in this story are in part based on real-life experiences. Yes, even the sex! blush Reviews would be great! Enjoy!!
1, 2, 3… President Mackenzie Allen started intently at her calendar and counted the days backwards, into the past. She sat hunched over her desk, her reading glasses sliding down her nose. Her desk calendar was her main priority at the moment. 7, 8, 9…
"Ma'am?" Mac looked up at the sound of Vince's voice.
"Yes?" she responded tensely. He had caused her to lose her count.
"May I ask… er… what it is that you're… doing?"
"I'm counting Vince. Leave me alone." Mac went back to her counting. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…
"Ma'am?" Dammit. "What are you counting?"
Mac glared at him. "I'm counting the number of times a day you come and bother me with your stupid questions," she snapped before she could stop herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Vince, I didn't mean that… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it… I'm just so stressed out and I…" Tears pooled in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she sniffed, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
"It's OK, ma'am," Vince said, ignoring her emotional leakage. "Dickie wants to see you sometime today to discuss…"
"Actually, Vince," Mac interrupted. "I was hoping you could clear the rest of the day for me… there are a few personal things I need to take care of."
"Well… I could…"
"Oh, thank you, Vince," Mac cried in relief.
"Right, I'll get on that…" Vince sputtered as he left the room.
Mac went back to her counting. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… 21, 22… 45. 45 days. "Oh my god," Mac breathed, somewhat panicked. It had been 45 days. She was almost 3 weeks late. She shook her head. Mackenzie Allen was never late. When a nuclear submarine crashed in North Korea's waters, she wasn't late. When Iran held 21 Americans hostage and she didn't sleep for days, she wasn't late. But now, she was late. By two and a half weeks. "This can't be happening," she whispered.
"What can't be happening?" a familiar voice said. Mac looked up to see her Press Secretary Kelly Ludlow standing in the doorway.
"Don't you knock?" Mac deadpanned. Kelly smiled at her, but her smile faded as she noticed the expression on Mackenzie's face. "Listen, Kelly… here, sit down." Mac had moved to the couches in the center of the Oval Office. There was a look of tension on Mac's face… a nervous crease formed in her brow.
"Ma'am, what's wrong?" Kelly asked, taking a seat on a couch across from Mackenzie.
"Kelly…" Mac took a deep breath. "I'm… late."
Kelly looked at her. "Late for what?" she asked before realizing. "Oh."
"What am I going to do?" Mac said. It sounded more like a statement than a question. She was trying to stay calm, but her composure was slipping away with the seconds that passed.
"How late are you?" Kelly asked.
"Almost 3 weeks."
"Do you need me to bring you a test?" Kelly asked. She was lost… it was the only thing she could think of to say.
"That would be… yes, please," Mac said. "Thank you Kelly."
"I'll leave right now." Kelly made a hasty retreat from the office.
"Thanks, Kelly," Mac called after her, trying to sound casual.
Kelly leaned against the closed door of the Oval Office. "Oh my God," she said, shaking her head.
Less than an hour later, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," Mac called from her desk. Kelly entered the room with a bag.
"Hi," Kelly said setting the bag down on her desk.
"That was fast," Mac said, attempting to be nonchalant.
"Ma'am, if there's anything you…" Kelly started.
"Oh, Kelly, dear, you've done more than enough," Mac cut her off with a soft, maternal voice that made Kelly feel surprisingly comforted.
"Anything at all, Ma'am," Kelly reinforced.
"Thank you so much."
"But if I may, Ma'am," Kelly began, "I don't think you need a test to tell you that you're expecting. Just look at you!"
"What?" Mac asked, despite the fact that she already knew exactly what Kelly meant.
"Oh, no… I mean, it's just… you're glowing," Kelly said, somewhat embarrassed. "You look beautiful," she added quietly.
"Oh. Thank you, Kelly." She smiled as she took the bag from Kelly's hand. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"
"Of course," Kelly stammered. "Go make sure."
"Thank you," Mac said as she left the Oval Office. Kelly smiled at her as she left.
Mac clutched her bag nervously. She only saw a few people on the way up to the residence. She tried to act casual. After what seemed like forever and a half, was finally safe behind a closed and locked residence bathroom door. She opened the bad and noticed that there was a little note from Kelly. I didn't know which one to get, so I got all of them. Congratulations in advance. Mac took 3 boxes out of the bag. One was a Clear Blue, one was an EPT, and one was a First Response. Mac heaved a sigh and forced herself to calm down. She grabbed the box closest to her and tore it open, dumping out the wrapped test stick and the directions onto the counter. She picked up the directions and read them. It had been so long since she had done this… so many years.
Mackenzie always found pregnancy tests privately humiliating. No self-respecting woman enjoyed peeing on a piece of plastic. Mackenzie Allen certainly did not. But she did it anyway. She had to… she needed to know. She laughed to herself as she was washing her hands. Her future… and the country's future rested with that little piece of plastic. As she waited, Mac looked at herself in the mirror. Was it the lighting or was her hair a brighter red? Was it her imagination or were her breasts not only tender, but swollen to a larger size?
She wasn't stupid… she wasn't blind. She knew what was going on. Confirmation hardly mattered. But just to be sure… she picked up the test stick from the counter and stole a glance at fate. It was a plus. And plus means… "Positive," she whispered to herself. As she stared, her large brown eyes were pools of disbelief. Although she expected it, she wasn't ready for the possibility… the reality of having another child. She shook her head… this was history in the making.