Chapter 4
Rated PG-13-ish to R for some language.
I make no money, don't sue.
"I've got a friend coming over on Saturday night, so go out. Tell Cuddy you want to talk about baby stuff, she'll be thrilled, make an evening of it," House said as soon as Bridget walked in.
"No problem," she said, heading to her room.
"What," he called, "no snide remarks about hookers?"
"No," she said, emerging from the bedroom, "It's enough that you're waiting for me to say something."
She went to the kitchen.
"What did Wilson have sent over tonight?"
"Chicken Tikka Masala with rice and mixed vegetables. The last are all yours, need to keep the little parasite nourished…" House said. "You're looking a little pudgy for 18 weeks."
Bridget ignored the last comment.
"So sweet of you to think of me," she said, loading up a plate and putting it in the microwave.
"A little bird told me Foreman's in love," he said as she sat down at the other end of the sofa.
"Is that so?"
"This same little bird said you spend a lot of lunches together."
Bridget smiled.
"We eat lunch at the same time. So? You eat lunch with Wilson everyday. What should I extrapolate from that?"
House smiled indulgently.
"Point one, I am not a homosexual. Wilson…eh. He might have had his ass kicked enough by women to consider playing for the other team."
He thought a minute.
"In fact…"
He looked over at Bridget, saw that she wasn't buying it and moved on.
"You, Foreman, lunch. Nooners?"
"How, if everyone sees us in the commissary, are we having nooners?"
House leered.
"You tell me."
"No. I'm not talking to you about my lack of sex life."
"So, the most action you've gotten recently was the turkey baster?" he said, grinning and then drinking his beer.
Bridget gave him a sour look.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Nosy."
"I get that," she said, digging into her food.
"You deflect well," House said.
"So I've heard."
"Why did you want to move in here?" he asked, suddenly.
She chewed, swallowed, then looked at him.
"Because you really seemed to hate the idea," she said as soon as she could. "And I don't like hotels. And I wanted to make you more evil towards Wilson. It was a win-win-win situation."
"That's all?" he said, leering ever so slightly.
She laughed.
"You think I want your skinny ass?"
House just shrugged and took another long drink.
"No, House, I'm not interested. Even if you weren't a misanthropic, narcotic-addicted asshole."
"I could be hurt by that…"
"If you gave a shit."
"That's it… I guess I'll live."
Bridget finished her dinner and left House sitting on the sofa with the remote and his beer.
-
Saturday came faster than Bridget anticipated and she was meeting Foreman at a restaurant she wouldn't have normally have even thought of. It was majestic on the outside and cozy on the inside. Quiet, with just the right kind of lighting.
"Any reason you didn't want me to pick you up at House's?" he asked as they were seated.
"Cameron is already telling him stories of our long lunches," she said. "Or at least, I'm fairly sure it's Cameron. What's up her ass?"
"You really want an answer to that?" he asked, looking at the menu.
"She has a thing for House. I got it, great. But what's her big, honking deal with me?"
"You're having his baby," Foreman said as if it was obvious.
"Not with or for him. And she's been hot and heavy with Chase…"
"Women, huh?" he said, smiling.
"Terribly funny," she said. "What's good here? That doesn't involve shellfish."
"Allergy?"
"You don't even want to know the extent. Let me add to that list strawberries and blueberries. It's terrible."
"No chocolate allergy?"
She smiled widely.
"I'd commit hara-kiri."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said, laughing.
Foreman pointed out his favorite items and the specialties. They ordered as soon as the waiter walked over and were silent a moment after he left.
Foreman broke the quiet.
"So, tell me a bit about yourself. Omitting the things I already know…"
"What do you want to know?" she asked, then sipped her water.
"Where are you from, family stuff, the basics. I've told you the most I've ever told a… friend."
She took a breath.
"Originally from Chicago, Lincoln Park area, loved it, miss it. Only child. Umm… Mom and dad divorced when I was 13... Mom remarried when I was 14, dad when I was 15... Hated my step-parents with a passion... Good grades, liked drama in high school, then went to nursing school."
She looked at him.
"Not much else…"
"So, we won't be discussing exes…" he said.
"I don't see why we should," Bridget said. "But if you're interested; I dated one guy my senior year of high school, dated off and on through nursing school, then met someone while I was working at Northwestern. Then I moved to New Jersey, and here were are." She paused a beat. "You?"
"About the same. Except it was medical school. Didn't get around a lot. I was always studying so much."
"Except when you were boosting cars?" she said, smiling at him.
Foreman shook his head.
"The story on that is…" he said and paused. "I…"
He looked at her, she was continuing to smirk at him from behind her water glass.
"You don't even care, do you?"
"Nope," she said after a long swallow.
She looked around at the restaurant as the waiter set the food in front of them.
"Three glasses of wine and this lighting would get anyone lucky," she said. "It's just so… intimate. Wonder why you picked it…"
He smirked.
"Don't look at me like that. I got a guide to the area's fine dining, closed my eyes and picked one."
"Says the man who knows the specialties and has a favorite dish," she replied.
Foreman just grinned at her.
They ate quietly, making the occasional comment on the food.
Once he was done, he set his plate aside.
"So, if you weren't carrying my boss' baby and had three glasses of wine in you, I'd be hot in this light?"
"Fish much, Foreman?" she asked.
"Well, you agreed to go out with me, but you never said why."
"Really fishing…"
He just shrugged and sipped his drink.
"Fine, I'm fishing," he said after she continued her silence.
She paused.
"Maybe I wanted a free meal…"
He shot her a look.
"So needy…" she sighed. "To tell the truth, I just liked you from the start. Professionally, mostly."
She saw his look.
"And I thought you were hot. Happy?"
She smiled at him and he grinned in return.
"You didn't get your back up when Cuddy hired me. You stand up for yourself. And you're kind of funny, when you don't try too hard and, also, you asked me."
He smiled at her.
"So, if Chase had asked you-"
"Cameron would have gone full on black widow and bitten my head off. Plus, never date anyone with better hair than your own."
Foreman laughed.
"But Wilson…" she said.
He looked uncertain.
"…is not anywhere near my type. I only date black guys," she said and grinned.
Foreman suddenly tried to look nonchalant.
"But you're living with House?"
Bridget raised an eyebrow.
"After everything… happened, exploded, whatever… it just ended up that way. Oddly enough, I had a similar conversation with him earlier this week."
He looked at her expectantly.
"And I made it clear in very certain terms that I'm just an implement of annoyance for Cuddy and to get over himself."
"He doesn't…"
"Annoy the shit out of me?" she finished for him.
"Yes, that."
"He's cranky and occasionally weird. He may yell and make me cry, but then I do something wicked and we're even."
Foreman looked concerned.
"He makes you cry?"
"Hormones are a bitch. It's fine though. I'm evil enough for two."
Foreman took the bill and soon he was helping her into her jacket.
"Short walk on the beach?" he asked once they were out the door.
"Seriously?" she asked. "Bit chilly."
"Maybe I'm not ready for the evening to be over," he said.
She smiled at him and put her hands in her pockets.
"I had a good time, too," she said.
"Enough to do it again?" he asked on the short walk to her car.
She pretended to consider.
"I suppose. But just one more, I'm kind of getting fat."
He smirked at her.
"Babies do that…" he replied.
She cocked her head to the side and looked at him.
"You're not one of those guys that gets hot for pregnant bellies?"
"I'll reserve my answer for when you're baby bump is fuller," he said stopping by the end of her car.
"Right…" she said, fishing the keys out of her purse and unlocking her car.
She turned to him, noticing him looking at her intently. She moved closer to him, holding out a hand that he took in his.
"One kiss," she said. "No tongue."
Foreman leaned in and put a hand on her hip. Their lips touched, soft and sweet. Bridget moved a bit closer, putting a hand on the back of his neck, then pulled away.
"Okay…" she said. "That was…nice."
"Yeah," he said, quietly.
"I should go…"
"If you really want to…"
She disengaged completely.
"I'm going to go," she said. "I had a really good time. We should do it again."
She got into her car quickly, leaving him to walk to his car with a smile on his face.
He got in his car and was ready to go when he saw her car pull up behind his.
He lowered his window, expecting some odd comment. But, she leaned into his car and kissed him again.
"Just to make sure," she said, after breaking the kiss.
"Make sure of what?" he asked, surprised.
"That the tingles were from the kiss not the onset of hypothermia," she said, smiling and walking back to her car.
-
"She's sick, House," Cameron said plaintively.
"What an extremely concise oversimplification," House shot back irritably.
"If we give her the immuno-suppressants any opportunistic infection could kill her," Chase said.
"Then she'll need a highly trained sitter. Maybe a nurse with her Master's degree…" House said, looking pointedly at Bridget.
She noticed the eyes turned to her and looked up from the summaries she'd been engrossed in before the interruption.
"I suppose that would be me," she said. "So, I guess Ivolunteer."
Cameron looked at House.
"You're really going to do this?"
House shook his head.
"When are you going to learn? I'm always right."
"Eventually," Bridget said as she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. "I'll be in the patient's room, making sure she doesn't die. Ta."
-
At 26 weeks, Bridget walked with a slight waddle and felt the incredible need to pee at the worst possible times.
She was at the elevator when Wilson walked up to her. She pressed the button and looked at him.
"Yes?"
"Bridget," he said in greeting.
"Wilson," she replied. "Are you up to something?"
"Your penguin gait is getting more pronounced," he said, smiling.
"Funny. Is making a pregnant woman cry on your list of mean shit to do today?" she said getting on the, unfortunately, empty elevator, Wilson right behind her.
"Still on the emotional roller-coaster?"
"Yes, James, I am. What do you want?"
"I wanted to thank you for the helpful suggestion to Cuddy-"
"It's not my fault you're an ass. Or that House is an ass. You two made your beds, now I get to lay in one." She paused. "And for all your talk you sure did jump on the grenade for him. And he got off easy… Rehab? Please. You both could have gone to jail."
"Thanks for reminding me."
"No problem."
"I actually came over here to apologize and then it turned into this… whatever the hell is happening."
"Well," she said, getting off the elevator and heading to the patient's room, "you could try again."
"Bridget," he said and she stopped walking.
She looked at him, amused.
"I'm sorry for whatever backlash you had to deal with from what I did."
"Pretty good. Anything else?"
"I have a plan for House…"
"Does it involve bugging the shit out of him?"
"Of course," Wilson said, smiling.
-
At the end of the day House's patient was stable and recovering.
Bridget went over the address in her head, leaving with Foreman.
"I just need to stop there for a minute. I'm not getting a drink, Foreman, I'm saying hi to someone."
"Someone you don't want me to meet?"
He sounded suspicious.
"I promise to explain everything when we get to your place."
"Fine," he said, though she was fairly sure that was not what he meant.
-
House and Wilson were out for drinks in a noisy, college student populated pub. House was starting his second drink and continued to extol the virtues of hookers and everything that was wrong with Wilson's relationships.
He stopped abruptly, noticing a lovely young woman checking him out. He gave a slick smile and motioned her over to the table. She tapped a friend on the shoulder and they both joined the men.
"I'm Cami," the first young woman said and tossed her head in the direction of her friend. "This is Sheri." They were pretty in a cheap, sluttyway.
House looked at Wilson and moved to let them sit.
A couple of drinks later, in full 'get some' mode, House felt a presence at his shoulder. He looked over. His eyes widened.
"Greg?" Bridget said pitifully, rubbing her belly. "Greg, honey, are you coming home tonight?"
The girls squirmed uncomfortably and Wilson tried his very best not to smile.
"The boys miss their Daddy… And little Missy will be here soon… Don't you love us anymore, Greg?"
The girls looked at House, accusations in their eyes.
"She's not… Well, yes, this is technically my baby, but it's not for me."
"Greg!" Bridget said, lower lip trembling, "Little Missy is not an 'it'. She's the beautiful culmination of our love."
House's eyes narrowed.
"What the hell, Bridget?"
"So, you, like, know her?" Cami asked.
Bridget turned to the girls.
"He's really a good man," she said. "When he's not drinking, or taking pills, or," she paused to take a shaky breath, "cheating on me."
She looked at House.
"I'll forgive you, Greg, if you just come home."
She turned towards Wilson.
"How can you let him do this? What would your wife think?"
House looked at Wilson, who tried to look as confused as possible.
Bridget turned to go, then turned back, casting one more pathetic look at House, mouthing the words, "Come home." Then she fled the bar.
"Shit," House said as the girls left the table.
"Asshole," one offered as they went.
Wilson put on his best game face and prayed House wouldn't connect him to this one.
-
Once at Foreman's place, Bridget told him everything.
"That… that's something I wouldn't have thought of," he said and laughed.
"You have to be devious. Which you know I excel at," she replied, settling on the couch next to him. "Alas, I can't take credit for all of it. Wilson came up with the idea, but I sold it. The little college girls ran."
Foreman pulled her feet up into his lap and started massaging at the toes.
"Cuddy wouldn't approve of the smoky bar."
"Which is why she wasn't there," Bridget said, leaning back and enjoying the foot rub. "And you have trust issues."
He looked at her pointedly.
"Really?"
"You assumed, one, I was meeting a man, two, it was a rendezvous, and, three, that I'd do some shit like that."
"So, I have trust issues."
She shifted on the couch uncomfortably.
"Pressure?" Foreman asked.
"Yeah, just the usual."
"Do your feet feel any better?"
"Yes," she said, trying to reposition. "Thanks for doing that."
"No problem," he said, hand moving up her leg to her thigh.
"Dangerous territory," she said.
Foreman smiled at her.
"I apparently do have a thing for a pregnant woman," he said, hands massaging her calves.
"You know I can't-"
"We won't," he reassured.
She was torn.
"Then what are we doing?"
He moved her feet to the floor and moved closer to her, wrapping her in his arms.
"Belly," she said quietly, "It's awkward."
Foreman moved so that she was resting almost on his chest, legs hanging off the couch.
"Better?"
She shifted on her side, facing him a little more.
"Yes."
"You want to wait until after you have the baby to… move forward. And I respect that. But it doesn't mean we can't be...close."
"It's your fault," she said, grinning. "All that flirting."
"Well, when we first met, you took your clothes off. I was intrigued."
"You make it sound kind of dirty," she whispered.
"Now you're flirting, Bridget."
"I suppose…"
Foreman reached over and stroked her belly, a movement Bridget found hopelessly endearing.
"Do you want me to take you home?"
She sighed and moved closer.
"No, not yet. If you don't mind."
"Not at all…"