Sunlight streams into the room as Olivia lies in her bed, unmoved. A hand nudges her from the edge of the bed.

"Are you ever going to get up, mom?"

Olivia grumbles as she glances at the clock, "It is Saturday, why are you up at seven AM?"

Noah shrugs, as he climbs into the bed next to her. "I've got too much on my mind to sleep."

Olivia leans against the headboard as she furrows her brow, "What are your concerns son?"

"How much longer are those things going to stay in there? I just want to squeeze them."

Olivia grins, "Several more weeks, hopefully. You can touch them now."

His hand presses against her shirt. "What am I touching?"

"Someone's butt."

"Eew! I don't want to touch anyone's butt!"

Olivia moves his hand to another lump, "How about a head?"

"How many weeks is several weeks? I am not sure my patience will wait that long."

"They are scheduled to stay in for about five more weeks, though they may come a bit earlier."

"I have been thinking a lot about the new house."

"Oh, yeah?"

"You're going to need a lot of help with the babies."

"That is probably accurate."

"I talked to Fin about the matter. He should move in with us."

"When did you talk to him about moving in with us?"

"I sneakily hijacked your phone yesterday when you were in the shower."

"Noah!"

"I am sorry, but I had to take matters into my own hands."

"That is not acceptable."

"Is he the dad?"

Olivia falls utterly silent as her eyes widen.

Noah continues undeterred by Olivia's facial expression, "I only ask because he has been spending a lot of time around here since your belly exploded. I think he is in love with you. You should really try harder not to be so grumpy with him. He's a nice guy."

"Noah! Stop!"

"You should take him on a date."

"What has gotten into you?" She raises her voice.

"I can see that I've made you uncomfortable. Perhaps something I've said has struck a chord with you?"

Her arm extends, and her finger wags, "Out!"

He jumps off the bed, and races out of the room. "Can I have another bowl of cereal?" He hollers from the kitchen.

"How many have you already had?"

"Three. I've been awake for an hour."

"No. Three bowls of cereal is plenty."

"Can I watch cartoons?"

"Yes."

Olivia's phone begins vibrating just when she is certain that her head will explode. She presses the phone to her ear.

"Benson," she answers in a tone that indicate she's peeved.

"What has your shorts in a twist?" Fin queries.

"My son came in here moments ago talking a mile a minute, likely hyped up on sugary cereal, asking me who the babies dad is. He suggested you. Apparently he is trying to convince you to move in with us."

"Please take a breath."

Hours later her anxiety has settled across town in her newly purchased home. Her son sleeps in a carbohydrate induced coma on the only piece of furniture available, the couch. The rhythmic noise of the paint roller in her hand brings her comfort. Her hair is barely secured in a haphazardly applied bun. It is nearly midnight and she wears a white t-shirt beneath a pair of overalls. Her heavily pregnant belly sticks out like a sore thumb. Gently tapping against the frame of the door shifts her focus from the task at hand. She turns, and finds her long-time colleague.

"I thought you left," she admits.

He offers a pained expression, "I was halfway home when I turned around."

She gently places the roller in the paint tray, and takes a seat on the nearby ladder.

"Did you forget something?"

"That it is better to state your case than spend a life full of regret because of your silence."

She furrows her brow, as she wipes paint from her hands on a towel. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't want to go home. As much as I don't want to make you uncomfortable that is the truth."

"Why wouldn't you just say that?"

"I am afraid we aren't on the same page, because we always just dance around things."

"Say your piece."

"Your son is right, you know. I have tried to ignore it. The more I try to shove the feelings aside the more they seem to bubble to the top."

"I see."

"Maybe you were wrong to choose me for this task, Liv. I am not the right character for the job. I have always tried to maintain our professional relationship. The truth of the matter is that seeing you in full bloom, knowing that I am in part genetically responsible for the lives you are carrying, only solidifies the fact that my desires have nothing to do with professionalism. I feel like a horrible human being because I just selfishly keep showing up. It seems like I am completely disrespecting what you originally set out to do."

"Say what you need to say."

"I love you, and as more than a colleague."

She falls silent, and her facial expression protectively shifts into neutral gear. Her hand presses against the well-stretched skin of her abdomen. Her hand shifts from her abdomen to her lower back as her facial expression contorts in pain.

"Now is not the time," she insists.

His heart sinks, "I'll go."

"No! You can't go. That isn't what I meant. Fin I wasn't talking to you."

He furrows his brow, "I don't see anyone else."

Her eyes cast in a downward direction, "I was talking to them. I think I'm in labor."

"What an inconvenient time for them to decide to enter the world."

"Beyond. The painting is not finished. The only piece of furniture in the entire place is a couch. I want to finish the conversation you started."

"Liv how long do you think you've been having contractions?"

"Since after lunch when I lied to you, and said that I just thought I was having indigestion from the pizza."

"Eight hours ago? I hope they aren't nearly as stubborn as you are. Luckily for you we did manage to get your bag in my car. Do you need assistance getting to the car?"

"Just get Noah."

"Yes, boss."

Liv has disappeared out the door as Fin is nudging Noah into consciousness.

"Wake up, Noah. It's go time."

His eyes pop open, and he hops off the couch, "Baby time? I'm ready."