You'd think that with wicked ex one and wicked ex two growling and snarling undead at the gates would have slowed Negan down a bit. It would have made him consider how to proceed with our relationship. He had so much on his fucking plate.

He was leader of the Sanctuary, full of my review of the outpost leaders in hand. He had a troop of people remodeling our floor to make it a full apartment with a kitchen, dining room, and nursery to start with. He had his day to day drudgery. He had his own personal challenge to bulk up his daily intake of me, to save for that six week dry spell that would be coming on us in no time.

And yet, as my bump grew, the months passing like blinks, he had a new mission. "How to get Callie to agree to marry me?" became Mission Number ONE.

It started simply. Days after watching Frankie and Tanya eat what they sowed, the subtle touching of Mom's rings became more pronounced. That question I kept seeing flash across his face barely holding back.

Then, as I came through my fourth month of pregnancy, he'd start to ask leading questions during meals. Had I ever had a dream wedding in my head? If I could have any type of ceremony what type would I choose? Was I against all marriage, or just to him?

OK that last question wasn't leading it was abrupt. And I'd sat across from him, my mouth wide, and the bite I had hovering in front forgotten. The fuck? "What?" I asked, forcing my mouth to close, and setting my fork down.

"Are you against the idea of marriage?" He asked, bleeding patience with me. "Or are you only against the idea of marrying me?" His voice was light, but the question was anything but.

I blinked at him. What the literal hell? My bump was growing by the minute. My emotions were all the fuck over the place from the little demon's control over my hormones, and he's tossing this at me NOW?

"I don't want to have this conversation now, Negan." I bit out, pushing my plate away. "Since your little seed keeps fucking nudging me in my kidney, consider this time for one of my MANY potty breaks." I stood and practically ran to our bathroom. Locking myself inside, I took a moment to pee, because yes, that is my reality. And then I stared in the mirror as I washed my hands. Why now? What the fuck would possess him to start this shit now, when I look like a blimp being inflated?

I heard his knock on the door. Of course he'd follow me. The man was becoming a very large and very solid shadow. If I so much as hissed because baby Satan moved suddenly, he was at my side and trying to find the source of discomfort. I shook my head and stared into my own eyes. You can do this, just keep the logic of NOT dealing with it front and center. Negan could be talked down from things. Right? Sure.

I opened the door and gave him a small smile. "Sorry, your kid really fucking likes my kidney." He reached his hand down and curved over the top of my bump. I knew he wanted to feel the movement, but we also knew that it could take another month.

"Knock it off, little one." He said, kneeling in front of me and kissing the growing bump. "Daddy wants Mommy to have a break, we've got important shit to discuss." His hands were cupping the bulge, and I knew he was hoping against hope of feeling them move. No dice, Negan, not yet anyway.

He stood up and kissed my lips gently. "Can we talk like grown ups now?" He asked, and I rolled my eyes. "Callie, why won't you just fucking answer the question?"

I licked my lips and moved to sit on our bed. "Because I don't fucking know." I groaned, and lay back, my head only reaching nearly the middle. "I don't know if I hate the idea of marriage completely or if I equate marrying YOU with them." I didn't elaborate and he didn't need me to. The wives, even with two dead and the others content with their mates, they still hovered over me.

"I never married them, Callie." I snorted. Remembering how Glenn 'married' Maggie. "I gave them a fucking ring and told them what was expected from them. That's not marriage."

I raised an eyebrow at him as he lay down beside me and turned so we were facing one another. "We're in the middle of the end of the fucking world, Negan. What the fuck truly constituted marriage now?" I sighed and settled into the fucking softness of our bed. "And if that's not clear, then why does it fucking matter so much to you?"

He groaned too. "Because, Callie, I want to marry you." I gave another eye roll. "I do. I want you to be my fucking wife, my real fucking wife. My partner." And I heard it, even if he didn't say it, 'like Lucille was'. Sure, that's going to be a bargaining point. Look at how well you treated her.

"And how, my brilliant Negan, would OUR marriage be so fucking different from the others?" I wanted to know, damn my curiosity.

His hand reached out so his fingers could trace my face. "We could have a wedding. A real wedding." Ah, those questions about my dream wedding started to make sense. "Name it, and I'll make it happen." Shit, that was fucking generous.

I squinted at him as his fingers kept lining my features. What did I know about Negan that would make this promise of a dream wedding stay at bay? "If I wanted to have it back in Alexandria?" First strike, having it on Dad's turf.

He didn't blink. "Done." Fuck.

OK, what else goes into a wedding. I strike the idea of a dress, my huge ass decked in white, that would make me look like a parade float. Nope. Didn't he tell one of the others about Gabe creeping him out? HA, checkmate. "I'd want, IF I got married, to have a REAL minister perform it. Because then it's REAL, not just for show."

He listened and considered it. Clearly pushing Gabe far out of his fucking mind. "Where would this minister come from? I don't-" And then it dawned on him. I could see the shiver run up his spin at the mere thought of Gabe's smile and collar. He swallowed, hard, and I waited. "You fight dirty, baby girl."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Negan." I replied, leaning into his hand. "You asked me what it would take to consider marrying you, and I told you. I would want a REAL wedding that ended in a REAL marriage. That takes a minister, fully ordained and in the cloth." I shrugged, looking supremely unconcerned.

The questions stopped. The remodel rolled on. And Negan spent more time working, which irritated both of us. Every time he came back to our rooms, he looked worn out, and I had to stop from asking him what was wrong. A part of me was terrified it was bad news. That Maggie had started the retaliation that I feared would come. And the other part of me was following doctor's orders.

My blood pressure was slightly elevated. I was warned to keep as much stress out of my mind as possible, so I don't borrow trouble. Instead, I'd wrap myself around Negan and try to divert both of our worries away.

Then, as the final touches were being finished on the expanded apartment, Negan came home whistling and grinning. This was unexpected, but fully welcome. As was his news that we'd be visiting Alexandria. Finally, I thought, glancing down at my five month bump. I had worried that Dad wouldn't know that he had a grand-baby until he could fucking hold it.

I should have questioned the timing. I should have seen the glint in Negan's eyes. I should have added so much shit together, but I didn't. And I blame hormones. I blame hormones and pregnancy brain and a hundred other things for the reason I didn't add all the parts together and instead was blindsided by what waited for me. How else would you explain it?

We went a week after he'd made the announcement. He reasoned that he had to make sure security was ready. That we had more to worry about than just the two of us now, and I agreed. Sitting beside him, same truck going in a different direction, we set off early in the morning. I'd worn comfortable clothes, still unsure of how long it would take to get there and unwilling to be uncomfortable in the name of looking cute. I even held back a glare as he buckled me in. And with a quick confirmation over the walkie that we were ready, we were off.

Negan kept me occupied. Telling me about how simple it had been to find a crib for our little demon. Smiling as he mentioned a cache of baby clothes a run had found, and I found myself napping as I listened to his voice. By the time we arrived, I'd slept most of the way and was happy to find we'd run into no trouble.

Helping me from the truck on the outside of the gate of what once was my home, I heard the guard on duty gasp. Yeah, no shit, I thought, I was huge. Negan's hand settled on my lower back, where most of my weight seemed to settle and give me pain, and we approached the opening they'd created for us.

Dad was waiting on the other side, and his eyes widened at my very obvious state. I waited, in silence for Negan to throw his first volley. And I wasn't disappointed.

"Would you fucking look at that, Papa Rick?" I could hear his dimples come out. A whistle and then, "Did ya ever fucking imagine that my fucking baby would be your fucking grand-baby? I have to wonder, whose genes do you think will be dominant? I'm laying odds on mine."

I shook my head and pulled away from my erstwhile man. Hugging Dad and fighting a grin at Negan's running commentary. "Hey, Dad." I rolled my eyes, and smiled up at him. "Guess I can't hide this anymore, huh?" I pointed at the bump nestled between us and he grinned down at me.

"Guess not, sweetheart." He kissed my forehead and I felt him smile despite Negan's teasing.

Michonne was laughing and hugged me next. "I told you so." She whispered, running her hand over my bump. "Congratulations, honey."

I was shaking my head so much I must look like a wet dog. "Carl," I held open my arms and my brother, holding my little sister pressed between them. "I missed you." My head was on his shoulder and I was including Judith in that sentiment. Kissing her head and his cheek I felt a tear fall. "Shit, hormones." I pulled away, and brushed it away.

We ended up in Dad's house, talking over one another, Negan included in the mix. I found out he kept the promise for beds. I learned that Alexandria was flush with comfort and contentment without an axe swinging over its head. And then, Gabe walked in and I was informed that our visit was going to include something I wasn't fucking prepared for-my fucking wedding.

Michonne had taken me upstairs after Gabe came in to "finalize the ceremony plans" with Negan. I'd grown pale. And she grew concerned.

In my old room, now housing a bed that I would have killed for before leaving for the Sanctuary, a dress hung from a curtain rod and fluttered in the breeze of the open window. White, of course it would be fucking white, and shorter than I'd expected for him to settle on. If I had EXPECTED him to get me a dress, that was. Dear fucking God, I felt like hyperventilating. When the fuck did he plan it? How? And was it happening TODAY? And where the fuck had he found a wedding dress that would hold these mountains of boobs and my bump during a fucking apocalypse?

"Tomorrow." Michonne answered me, watching I'm sure, my face turn various fucking shades of green. "You don't want this?" She was worried, duh. My reaction didn't fucking scream blushing happy bride.

I thought about it. Did I want it? Did I NOT want it? I considered life without Negan and recoiled from the thought of it. OK, so come on Callie, what does that fucking tell you? That you can't live without him. OK. What do I hate most about the idea of marrying him? The plural wives, obviously. But they were gone, some in more permanent a way than others. And he wanted to marry me in the same way he'd been married to Lucille. Who he cheated on, while she lay dying, literally. But he gave them up for ME. Shit was I arguing with myself.

Michonne was still studying me. "Do you love him?" She asked like it was that simple.

"Yes." I could barely hear myself.

She nodded, her theory confirmed. "He loves you, too, you know?" I focused on her, not the dress, not the hysteria bubbling inside me. "He contacted Rick awhile back. They put this together, with some help from the rest of us." Ah, that explained a lot. "Gabe, well that was a final request, actually, and surprised all of us, no one more than Gabe himself. He swore that Negan thought he was creepy."

I gave a chuckle. "Yeah, that he does." I sighed. Shit. I was going to do it. I was going to marry him. He'd countered every move. And he proved he wanted it badly enough to work for it. Fuck.

"You have an entire night, alone, to work it out." She offered, wrapping me in her arms. "Plus, you have some vows to write." Fucking hell. I felt her fighting a bout of laughter. Of course she'd find this shit hilarious.

We had dinner together, all of my family and Negan. I found out that he was commandeering Spencer's house. Foregoing, he assured me, his stag party. Like this wasn't the most surreal fucking moment in my whole damn life. And as darkness fell, he kissed me sweetly and offered the corniest parting I'd ever heard him give.

"I'll meet you at the altar." He was grinning so fucking hard I thought his face would crack.

Playing along, with a roll of my eyes, I gave the standard, "I'll be the one in white."

His laughter echoed as he walked away. And felt my nerves racket up a notch. Fuck. I was getting married.