Hello! Back with another update- this one with a surprising amount of happiness. It almost makes me uncomfortable...I must quickly go back to working on the next TG chapter to balance this one out.

A/N: nothing to warn about here other than a sick child, some parental bickering, and Nick being Nick. Quotes from in your eyes by peter gabriel, for reasons which you will soon discover.

Thank you all for reading and responding. I love you all :)

"Holy sh- sheet, you're gonna have a baby!"

Nick is barely able to control his language (or his excitement) as he stands at the door to your apartment. At your side is Noah, who's lost self-control altogether and is doing his flailing arms 'dance' while he jabbers loudly to himself. "Uh, you knew that already. We talk about it every day."

"I know. But then I see you and see how much she's growing and...wow. It's been too long."

You reach out and hug him as best you can with both of your children sandwiched in between. "It's only been five weeks. I'm still cleaning up the shi- stuff you brought here for Noah's birthday."

"Only? I feel like I've missed so much. I mean, look at you, you're-"

"Careful there," you warn him with a stern look. "Noah, baby, you need to calm down. You're wheezing again."

He ignores you, so Nick scoops him up to put an end to his dance party. "You're so full of energy, aren't you, mi sobrino?"

"They had a little Thanksgiving celebration at daycare this morning," you explain. "And he whined all through his nap, so I'm predicting a meltdown in...eh, I'll give him another half hour. You might wanna escape while you still can."

"Gotta love two year olds. What they don't tell you, though, is that three makes two look like a breeze. I don't know how many times I thought we'd end up selling Zara to the circus before she hit four."

"Thanks for the encouragement." You lean over to press the back of your hand against Noah's cheek. "He feels a little warm."

"Probably just too much excitement. So where's the mister?"

"At the store getting some last-minute stuff he forgot for dinner tomorrow. He tried to get me to go, said that maybe people would take pity and let me cut in line. I said 'nice try, babe'. Speaking of which, did I show you the little outfit I got for Noah to wear?"

You go into Noah's room to show Nick (and Noah) the turkey-adorned bowtie you'd picked out against The Boyfriend's wishes. This was your first 'official' Thanksgiving as a family, and so you wanted it to be special. Originally you had envisioned a quiet holiday with just you, The Boyfriend, and Noah, but then you got a dinner invite from some of The Boyfriend's family and decided to take them up on it. You know that it was probably for the best (and not just because neither of you have ever made a turkey), but you haven't been able to stop feeling uneasy at their extended family gatherings, no matter how often he tries to tell you that you're a part of the group now. The sheer number of people and the noise level can be overwhelming at times, even though you love that Noah's growing up with the big family you never had, and you spend way too much time worrying about what kind of impression you're making and whether they think you're a good enough mother/girlfriend. The latter may be out of your control- but in the meantime, no one will be able to say that your son isn't well-dressed. "What do you think?"

"I think his father probably hates it, am I right?" Nick replies.

"Oh yeah. I won't be surprised if Noah 'loses' it before we even get there." You sit down on the bed, rubbing your stomach gingerly. "I feel like I shouldn't complain. Like it's bad karma."

"But...?"

"It feels like this pregnancy thing is suddenly all catching up to me. My back hurts, I have these constant gas pains- sorry, but it's true- and I wake up about ten times a night because I can't get comfortable and I have to pee. And if you tell me it's only going to get worse-"

"Hey, hey. Breathe."

"What?" you ask. "I'm fine, I'm-"

"Not you, him. He's wheezing again," Nick says, turning around to pick Noah up from where he'd been playing in the corner.

"Noah, baby...momma's gonna go get your inhaler." No rest for the weary here, you think ruefully to yourself as you go into the bathroom to retrieve it. "Here, Nick, can you keep him on your lap while I get this set up?"

Nick starts singing quietly, trying to distract Noah enough for you to slip the mask on over his nose and mouth without a fight. It was easier when he was a baby, before he figured out how to pull it off on his own, and you're going to be incredibly grateful when he's old enough to use a regular inhaler in a few years. But for now, it's a battle of you and this animal-themed mask vs. an uncooperative two year old.

"Here we go, sweetheart. Just relax for me, okay?" You pick up a little plastic handheld mirror you keep on hand for these occasions and turn it toward Noah. "Look at you! You look just like a froggy!"

I don't *want* to look like a froggy, he seems to say, reaching up to yank at the strap that's keeping the mask on his face. When Nick tries to restrain him, he starts to whine. "How much longer does this take, Liv?"

"Oh, we've got at least 15 minutes to go. Get comfy," you tell him as you try to turn Noah's attention toward The Very Hungry Caterpillar. You've implemented all the suggestions you've found online, like letting him pick out a mask and saving special books and movies for treatment times, and yet somehow you still struggle while all the other asthma moms on the internet have these angelic children who can be pacified with such things. Must be nice.

When the treatment is finally complete, you remove the mask and Noah stomps off into the other room without looking back. "Someone's pissed!"

"He does that every time. He'll go sulk for a while until he decides he's ready to forgive me," you tell Nick as you start putting all the supplies away. "Thank you, though. You can imagine how much harder it is to manage when there's just one person at home with him."

"Course. But hey, while I'm thinking about it- what are you and the mister doing on Saturday?"

"Nothing, why?"

"Good. Let me take Noah for the night. I know you guys probably never get time to yourselves as it is, and you'll really never have a chance once you've got a baby too. Amanda and I'll entertain him and you two can...well, I'll let you decide what you do."

"Amanda's okay with this?" you ask. As always, you're conscious of trying not to monopolize his time when he visits. Things between her and you have been good lately, especially after Noah's birthday party, and you don't want to ruin that with a tug of war over Nick.

"She's cool as long as her place doesn't get wrecked. I told her we'd go over to Mami's where it's a little more child-friendly and besides, I know she'll be happy to see little man too."

You get the feeling that this isn't an entirely selfless gesture, that there's going to be a catch at some point. But the idea does sound nice, having a dinner conversation without being interrupted by toddler meltdowns or having sex without worrying about being heard by said toddler through your paper-thin walls (although who are you kidding, you know you'll more than likely fall asleep before you even get to dessert). "Okay, we have a deal. If you're sure."

"You bet I am! I'm going to teach him how to make crafts with kelp since my own kids think it's 'lame'."

"Hmm, I wonder why that is."

"I tell ya, you've gotta enjoy them being little while you can. Gil's having a birthday sleepover at my house, but he won't even let me give the party a theme. All they want to do is eat pizza and play Madden."

"Birrday!" Noah looks up from his blocks and squeals.

"Nice try, sobrino, but you've got about another 11 months before it's birthday time again."

"Birrday." He continues sing-songing 'birrday' to himself and you frown.

"He does that. He repeats everything and it worries me," you tell Nick. "That's a sign of autism, you know."

"What does his speech therapist say?"

"Uh, 'stop bothering me'."

"What? Isn't that her job, to listen to him talk?"

You frown in confusion, then laugh. "No, that's what she's saying to me! Or at least, I'm sure she wants to. She's started just asking if she can 'talk to his father'."

"Oh, so you're that mother," Nick teases, and your face falls.

"It's not funny. I'm just trying to do everything I can, okay? There's so much I'm trying to make up for and...you sound like-"

"Liv. I'm sorry, that was out of line. I know you're a good mom and I know everyone else agrees, promise. Look at this little guy," he says as Noah toddles back toward you. "Now that's a kid who loves his mommy. I can tell."

Noah flops down into your lap, curling up with his head pillowed on your belly. As much as you love mother-and-son cuddle time, it's rare for your energetic little boy to willingly stop playing in favor of snuggles unless he's sick or upset, so you put a hand to his forehead and lean down so you can hear his breathing more clearly. "He's still wheezing."

"What now? Does he need his inhaler again?"

"Normally I'd try it, but..." You look over at the clock- 4:30. On the day before a four day weekend. "You picked a he-ck of a time to get sick. I'd better call the doctor before they close, I don't wanna take any chances." You slide Noah over to Nick's lap. "Keep an eye on him for a minute?"

You reach for your phone and dial the pediatrician's number (#3 on your speed dial). Unfortunately, all you get is a recorded message wishing you a happy thanksgiving and advising you to call the minor emergency clinic. When you follow their instructions, you get another recording telling you that the clinic is closed for the holiday and that if you have an issue, you should go to the ER. You're confused- isn't that the point of a minor emergency clinic, to keep people out of the ER?

With no other options in sight, you go to the closet and pull out the tote bag full of hospital necessities that you keep at the ready. You've been fortunate for the last several months- your last visit was for a bump on the head in July- but you knew your luck was bound to run out as the weather turned colder. "Come on, sweetheart, we're going on a trip."

{but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are}

"It'll only be a few more hours, Liv, I've got this."

You glare at The Boyfriend from where you're sitting on the bed in a tiny ER treatment room, Noah slumped at your side. "I told you, I'm not leaving him."

"But-"

"He needs me! And what difference is a few hours going to make, anyway?"

He shrugs, sighing under his breath just in case you weren't already aware that he was annoyed with you. It had been a relief when he had walked through the door of your apartment as you were helping Noah get his coat and shoes on. You intended to just text him on the way and ask if he could meet you at the hospital, but this meant he could ride there with you (and apologize with you when Noah threw up in the Uber car. Your account is probably going to be permanently blacklisted).

But in between the vomiting, he kept worrying aloud about how it wasn't good for you to be exposed to whatever germs were lurking in the hospital. You brushed him off, because how bad could it be? You've been in plenty of ERs and, to your knowledge, have never contracted the plague from any of your visits.

The one upside to bringing in a kid with breathing difficulties, if such a thing even exists, is that you usually get bumped to the front of the line so you don't have to wait long. This visit was no exception. However, you also got bitched at by a nurse for not calling your pediatrician first(!) and then you got a lecture about how you shouldn't be there because you were putting your baby at risk.

The Boyfriend was smart enough not to say 'I told you so'. But now that the doctor has gotten Noah settled with a nebulizer and an IV, the conversation went right back to where it started. "He hasn't let go of me since we got here. If I leave, he'll get upset and then it'll just make everything worse."

"And what are you going to do if you get sick? He's gonna be a lot more upset if you end up in here because you came down with God knows what."

"Who says I'll even end up in the hospital if I get sick? I got my flu shot...stop jumping right to the worst case scenario," you say. That's supposed to be your job.

"But it's not just about you anymore."

"Goddamnit," you hiss. "Stop trying to make me feel like a terrible mother for being with my son when he needs me."

"Fine, have it your way," he says as insincerely as possible, going back to thumbing through his phone.

You roll your eyes even though he's not watching and rest your head on the pillow you've positioned to support your neck. He's being a dick, you tell yourself, it's not like you wanted to spend your first night of a four day weekend sitting in the hospital with a sick kid when you were planning on a nice warm bath and an early bedtime (for both mother and son). But when your kid's sick and all he wants is his mommy, what else are you supposed to do? You admit that in the past, you've had moments of jealousy when it seemed like Noah favored The Boyfriend, but right now you'd be more than happy if he decided that Dad was the one he wanted to cling to.

Noah and you are both dozing off several minutes later when you feel something and almost fall off the bed.

"Jesus, Liv, you okay?"

"That's it! It's her!" you gasp, clutching your stomach.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! She kicked!"

"You sure about that this time?" he asks, and you don't even bother to glare at him in response. You'd already been through two false alarms, including one where you were almost certain of what you felt until you called Melinda, whose professional opinion was that the sensations you were feeling were due to gas. Secretly, you thought she had gotten it wrong. But this felt like something different altogether.

"I am. Are you going to argue with me? Because I don't remember you ever being pregnant."

"No, no, I'm not doubting you. Never. Can I feel?"

"You may not," you say, turning toward Noah and putting his little palm on your belly even though you know it's doubtful that he'll be able to feel anything. "Hey sweetheart, your sister's saying hi to you."

And there it is again, that little flutter, and right now you don't care about the backaches or heartburn or sleepless nights because this is your daughter, she's real and she's growing and she's making her presence known. You know that it might not always feel this magical, that pretty soon there's going to be a much bigger foot jabbing you in the ribs and dancing on your bladder, but for now it's the most unbelievably amazing thing you've ever felt and all you can think of is I can't wait to meet you.

She gives you one more kick before she goes still. You stay silent and unmoving for a few more minutes like you're lying in wait for a suspect, but she seems to have settled down for now. You take a book out of your hospital bag and show Noah the cover. "Do you want Momma to read you a story?"

"So'm I getting the silent treatment now?" The Boyfriend asks.

"If you were, do you think I'd answer?"

He smirks. "Got you to talk."

"I wasn't not speaking to you in the first place...were you always this annoying? How did I ever manage to work with you?"

"We've done more than just work together," he says, and you swear you would physically remove him from this room yourself if it wouldn't involve leaving Noah's side.

"Yeah, well, that's all you're good for. As long as I don't have to hear you talking..."

"That's funny, cause I seem to remember you like it when I-"

"Oh god, shut up." You frown, looking over at Noah. "...which is something we don't say, because it's not nice. Thanks, Dad."

The Boyfriend stands up like he's going to walk over to your side of the room, but the icy stare you're giving him is enough to scare him into sitting back down. "Liv...I'm sorry."

"You should be." You sigh and run a hand over your messy hair. "I'm trying to do the best I can, okay? And I get that you're concerned, but this is not the time to guilt trip me."

"I'm not trying to."

"Well, it sure feels like it. Because if I'm here with Noah, then I might get sick and that's not good for Lilly. But if I'm at home, then maybe I'll stay healthy, but I won't be there for Noah when he needs me. Do you see that? Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

"I think that's called being a parent," he says with a little chuckle. "Believe me, I get it."

"Yeah, but it's different for me."

"I know...you're right. Can I?" he asks, nodding toward the edge of the bed, and you silently nod back.

"I still feel like..." you mumble, picking at a loose thread on the sheet underneath you. "Like I'm going to let you down. Or myself, or one of the kids." You turn your head and give him a sad smile. "I used to feel like I was this selfless person- look at me, I go to work every day and help people- but it wasn't until Noah came along that I realized thinking of myself was pretty much all I ever did. I never really had anyone else to think about, except my mom, and you know how that went. But once she was gone and it was just me...it was exactly that, just me, and if someone was in my way, I got rid of them. As you know."

"I think I recall that, yeah," he teases gently.

"But now I've figured it out...kinda. At least, it seems like I'm starting to get the hang of this family thing. And now there's another person being added to the mix and...what if I can't do it and then everybody suffers? Y'know, I thought it'd be good, having all this time to prepare before Lilly gets here, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe it's just making me neurotic."

"You do have a, um, tendency to overthink sometimes."

You smile, reaching for his hand. "Good thing I have you to talk me out of it."

"Oh, so I am good for more than one thing now? I see."

"Well...yeah. I mean, you're always the one who trusts me, even when I don't trust myself. Without you I'd..." You trail off, not wanting to get too deep and emotional while you can hear a kid throwing up in the next room, and you lean toward him until your foreheads are touching. "But I might still be pissed at you. How are you gonna make that up to me?"

"I dunno, I was thinking about making reservations for us at this Brazilian steakhouse on Saturday night. They bring the food right to your table- all you can eat."

"That'll work!" you say quickly, your heart leaping at the thought of someone serving you unlimited steak. "Hon?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I just fell in love with you all over again."

{without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside}

It wasn't like you were expecting a perfect Thanksgiving in the first place.

You weren't completely dreading it, but you knew something would go wrong. Noah would misbehave in front of The Boyfriend's family, or you'd bump into someone and make them spill the entire contents of their plate onto the floor, or The Boyfriend's mother would make some sort of comment about your parenting skills that you wouldn't know how to decipher and you'd spend the rest of the evening debating about what she really meant by it.

You were prepared for those sorts of scenarios. You hadn't planned on spending the holiday stuck in your apartment with Noah, giving him hourly inhaler treatments or nose drops or antibiotics, but that's what ended up happening. When it became clear Noah wasn't going anywhere today, you told The Boyfriend that he should go see his family without you and you'd stay with the little patient. He said no, that he didn't want to be away from the two of you, but you weren't having it. For one, he doesn't get to see his family as much as he should. It's hard to get everybody in one place at the same time and it's only going to get harder when the baby comes, so you thought he should take the opportunity now while he still could. Secondly, you and Noah were not great company. You gave him his medicine, he went back to sleep, and then you napped alongside him until it was time for the next dose. He wasn't going to miss anything more exciting than you complaining about your backache.

And lastly (but most importantly), you wanted him to bring home all the leftovers he could get his hands on. Because you could cope with missing the festivities- but you were NOT going to miss out on the feast.

You had just put Noah down for a nap when you got a late-afternoon text from Nick, asking if he could come over and deliver some food that his mom had set aside for you.

[this is the best possible thing you could say to a pregnant woman. get over here ASAP]

You practically knocked him over when you opened the door, going right into the kitchen to start eating rice and beans straight out of the Tupperware container. "Thank you. I owe you. I owe you my firstborn. Do you want Noah?"

"Did your baby daddy really leave you with nothing to eat?"

"Eh, we have food...but not like this, oh God this is good. And he'll bring me leftovers."

"Then maybe you should hold off? You don't want to spoil your appetite- or you know what, you go right ahead. Eat whatever you want," he assures you once he sees the look on your face.

"Oh, I will. Where's Amanda?"

"Bonding with my mom. I don't think either of them even realized I left." He pauses. "Wait. How am I going to tell my mom I'm dating someone else? It'll break her heart."

"Are you? I thought you and the animal shelter woman were just friends."

"Well...not in the way you and I are friends. I tried! I tried, okay, I did what you told me and treated her like I would if I was with you. But then I was over at her place, and she goes 'it's late and it's raining out, are you sure you want to drive home?' She offered to let me stay and I thought to myself- I stay overnight at Liv's all the time, no big deal. We never have sex, right?"

"Uh. Right," you say, frowning because you can already tell where this story's headed.

"I thought she was just being friendly. Like you. I didn't know she was expecting that we'd..."

"Nick, my god, how long has it been since you've been on a date?"

"An actual date? Uh, not since Maria. And she lived at home and her parents are the real strict religious type, so if I stayed over I'd have to sleep in her brother's room." He gives you one of those puppy dog looks and shrugs. "I'm a simple guy, Liv, I take people at their word."

"Since when?"

"Since you told me to pretend she was you! I mean, we've even slept in the same bed and nothing happened. It's like I said before, I've never once tried to touch your-"

"Stay on topic. Please."

"So...okay. I didn't sleep with her. Well, I did. We slept in the same bed. But what I mean is- stuff went on, stuff I haven't done with you, but it wasn't-"

"I get it!" you promise, holding up your free hand to stop him as your other hand scoops up the last of the rice with your fork. "Stuff was done. What now?"

"I don't know! I'm not good at this dating thing. Other than Maria...all my other relationships just sorta happened. There wasn't all this...anyway, I guess I have to call her back so that I can get an appointment to go see the puppy I want."

"Your priorities are admirable."

"I'm serious! And I mean, she's great and everything...but I don't want to string her along and make her think she has a chance."

"Just be honest," you say. "Even if it's not what she wants to hear, she'll appreciate that you told the truth. If you lie, even to spare her feelings, it'll blow up on you."

"Funny you should bring that up, about lying," he says with a nervous laugh.

"Why is that funny?"

"Before I tell you, promise you won't be pissed. And you'll support me no matter what."

"Nick..."

"It's good news!" he assures you. "I made the cut! I'm going to be on Wheel of Fortune- you remember how that's my lifelong dream, right?"

"Uh-huh. So what's the lie?"

"Uh. It's actually...so you know how I had to make that video to introduce myself? And I wanted it to be really memorable, so I talked about being a veteran and a retired cop, about being injured in the line of duty, and. Um. I might've said something about how I'd use my prize money to support my pregnant fiance." You nod, otherwise occupied by opening a container of cranberry salad. "And they liked it! They liked it so much that they want me to be on Sweetheart's Week. With my fiance."

"Amaro, if this is going where I think it's going..."

"I'm begging you, Liv. I need you to come on Wheel of Fortune with me and pretend we're engaged. That's all I'm asking."

Suddenly his generosity in offering to babysit and bringing you food is making so much sense. "That's all?"

"C'mon! Friends for life, right? We always have each other's backs. That's what friends do, they help each other."

"This is why I don't have friends- and I'm including you in that. Since when do friends ask you to go on a game show and pretend like they're your...why can't Amanda be your fiance?"

"For one, we're in a tricky spot relationship-wise, and if I ask her for her hand in an imaginary marriage...you just don't do those things! Plus she's not pregnant," he points out.

"Did you think about this at all before you made this video? What you were going to do if they wanted to meet this nonexistent woman?"

"Course," he scoffs. "I thought about it and I knew you'd say yes, because that's the kind of loyal friend you are."

You stab at a cranberry with your fork. "And it never occurred to you to run this one past me before you submitted the video?"

"Liv, I'm a desperate man. Now's not the time for second guessing. When have I ever wanted something this much?"

"Uh, when you slept with a woman to get a puppy, when Amanda was mad at you and so you reenacted Say Anything outside her building-"

"It wasn't a reenactment. I would never play Peter Gabriel music in public!" he says, shaking his head like you've lost your mind.

"Because In Your Eyes makes you cry like a baby," you supply for him. "But we're getting off topic. For one thing, I don't even really know how to play Wheel of Fortune."

"You just spin the wheel. I'll do all the talking."

"That doesn't make me feel any better. What are you going to say when they ask you about me and 'our' baby? Hell, how am I going to explain this to-"

"Don't worry, I'll talk to him about it," Nick says. "He'll understand."

"Because he's such an understanding guy. He'll have no problem with you introducing me as your wife on national TV."

"Fiance," he corrects you. "And if he was that protective- well, it's not my fault I put a ring on it first."

"I don't see a ring."

He groans and gets down on one knee (which isn't easy for him, and you almost take pity and tell him to stand up, but this is just too good). He clears his throat, eyeing your ring, so you play along and drop it into his palm. "Olivia I don't know your middle name Benson, will you and Lilly go on Wheel of Fortune with me and be my fake fiance and child?"

"How do you not know my middle name?"

"Do you even have one?"

"Um, yes?" He clears his throat again and holds out the ring. "Fine, fine, I will. But you're paying for my flight, for my meals while I'm down there- and I eat a lot- plus I'm going to need something to wear that won't make me look fat on camera..."

He cheers and jumps to his feet- well, as much as he can jump- throwing his arm around you and snapping a selfie.

You see it later that night on Instagram. Caption: SHE SAID YES!