Just Breath
"I love you," the words bristle over her gently curling hair as she lies in bed with him, grabbing the rare night off with both hands. They lie like spoons, cocooned against one another, his hand over her swelling belly.
"…and the baby. Derek, it's both of us," she adds, absentmindedly, once a single person she's happy to remind everyone of the little package, something extra she will always have. A little person; a tiny human being.
"…And the Baby. You two. Together," he smirks, smiles rather, contented that he's got his own little piece of heaven beside him, her and the baby, the he, she, tiny baby, growing at an alarming rate as he is constantly reminded.
"Do you think I'll be a good mother," he nods before he responds, wanting to be a perfect mother is something she craves for. He knows she fears that she'll be her mother's daughter, that somehow the half attempt at being there will wrap itself in her life like a venomous snake, cripple her heart when she realises that the tiny 5 ounce baby she'll carry home from hospital is suddenly on the cusp of going to college.
"Of course, and will I make a good father?" she smiles as she nods her head, he's different to the father she has. Had. She knows he'll be there, he'll make all the appointments, hold their child through it's first fever, be at the first parent teacher evening.
"Naturally, you're great with kids," he tightens his hands around her belly, rubbing motions that cause the baby to flip over. He hears her softly giggle as she nuzzles into him, every muscle in her body relaxing as it does so. He offers the protection and love she's craved for years.
"It's not going to change us, Mer, it won't be like, we're not going to go out? I like our life the way it is," he puzzles himself as his ramblings air themselves, hearing the bed clothes rustle as she turns to face him he looks at her eyes, the smile that creases the edge of her face.
"You're gonna love the life you'll have once little one comes along, daddy," she bites her lip in that cute manner, the one when she's nervous or pangs of excitement entrance her body. He traces the soft silhouette of her face, it's fuller now, not fat, just brimming, glowing even with life. The little life that fills her with joy he's never witnessed in her.
"Get some sleep, mommy," he whispers quietly, watching her close her eyes with the smile sticking like glue, her cheeks are plump, red from the heat the room has built up in the August daylight. He watches as she lets the covers fall slightly, hoping to cool off and get a comfortable night sleep. He waits a while, just watching her, content, happy; without a care in the world. Sleeping.