Chapter 68

The last day at the hospital was nerve-racking for Clarke. Mostly because she was so afraid of screwing something up when she took Avery home. The hospital was the ultimate safe space for a baby, and she was surrounded by people there who knew exactly what they were doing. At home, it'd be all on her and Bellamy.

They spent the majority of their last morning there talking to everyone they could—Dr. Jackson, the nurses, and the pediatrician, who did one last check on Avery before proclaiming her "good to go." They did a diaper change in front of one of the nurses, just to get her feedback, and she exaggerated their abilities when she said they were practically pros. She then proceeded to remind them that they'd get lots more practice at home, because they'd be changing at least four wet diapers a day, and one or more poopy ones.

Pooping was definitely going to be a big pastime for Avery, along with sleeping and eating and crying. So far, the crying hadn't been too incessant, but Dr. Jackson did remind them that crying was the only way babies could communicate that they wanted something, so they shouldn't be surprised if she cried a lot, or if they sometimes weren't even able to calm her down. Clarke hated the thought of that. She wanted to be the kind of mom who always knew what to do to make her baby feel better.

Part of taking Avery home from the hospital involved dressing her in actual clothes for the first time. Clarke had picked out an outfit months in advance—a cute pair of pink pants and a white shirt that said Hello, World on it. She put some socks on her, too, just in case her feet were cold. Bellamy snapped several pictures of the two of them, of course, before he took all their bags out to the car. Her mom came into the room to see how she was doing, and Clarke asked for her opinion on the ensemble. "Do you think this outfit's fine?" She wasn't always so eager to hear her mother's opinion on things, but in this instance . . . yes.

"Yeah," her mom replied. "It's cute."

"No, I mean, do you think it's warm enough?" Clarke clarified. "Or cool enough? What even is the temperature outside? I have no idea."

Her mom smiled and laughed a little. "This will be fine," she assured her. "Whatever you'd be comfortable in, she'll be comfortable in."

"Okay." She would have been comfortable in shorts and a shirt, right? Right? "But one of the nurses said an extra layer's not a bad idea," she recalled, second-guessing the shorts. Maybe pants were better.

"When it's chilly outside, sure," her mom said. "But it's not. It's a beautiful day. Perfect day to bring her home."

Clarke picked Avery up out of the crib, wondering if she'd be able to tell the difference between a hospital crib and her own crib, this room and the room that Bellamy had put together just for her. "I'm nervous," she admitted, holding her baby girl close. "And excited. It's weird. I just don't wanna screw anything up."

"I think you've been doing well so far," her mom said. "You and Bellamy both."

Me and Bellamy, Clarke thought, smiling softly. Thank God it was back to being her and Bellamy, because without him, she probably would have been way more worried about how she was going to handle all of this. "I told him he can't drive over twenty miles per hour the whole way home," she said. "Just to be safe."

"She'll be in a car seat," her mom reminded her.

"I know. But still . . ." Twenty just seemed like a reasonable speed limit with an infant in the car. "God, now I understand why you didn't let me get behind the wheel until high school," she said, empathizing. "Or go in the deep end of the pool when you weren't watching. Or ride my bike anywhere besides around the block. There's a lot of scary stuff out there for kids."

"Hmm, and at the time, you thought I was being overprotective." Her mom smirked.

"I kind of get it now," she admitted. This little girl was the single greatest human being in the world, and it was her responsibility to make sure she was safe. Always.

Bellamy returned to the room, keys in hand, and announced, "Car's out front. You ready?"

She let out a shaky breath and said, "Yeah," before looking around the room one last time to make sure they hadn't left anything. It felt like it'd been a long time since she'd even left that room. Yesterday, she'd walked the halls a bit, but nothing major. "Wait, did we ask all our questions?" she asked fretfully. "We did, didn't we?"

"Yep," Bellamy said as he came into the room.

"But what if we have more?" Google was a wealth of misinformation, and conflicting facts and statistics.

"Your mom's a doctor," he pointed out, carefully taking Avery from her.

"Right. Okay," she said, taking a moment to drill that into her brain. Mom's a doctor. Mom's a doctor. If anything went wrong or seemed strange in any way, she could just call her up and get her expert opinion.

It must have been her mom's 'expert opinion' that the distance from this hospital room to the car was going to be too far for her, because she went out into the hallway for a few seconds, then returned with a large, black wheelchair, the kind that folded open and shut. "I don't need a wheelchair," Clarke told her. "I can walk."

"It's the policy," her mom said.

"What? Why?"

"Because until you're out the door, you're this hospital's responsibility," her mom explained. "Legal liability stuff."

"But I've been walking," Clarke protested. Besides, what was the likelihood that she'd slip and fall on her way out the door?

"Nobody ever said healthcare makes sense." Her mother motioned towards the seat.

"Just sit down and enjoy the ride," Bellamy told her.

She groaned, rolled her eyes, and reluctantly took a seat in the wheelchair. He handed Avery back to her, then stepped behind the chair and rolled her on out of the room. Her mom followed behind them, and Clarke had to admit . . . being pushed by Bellamy was faster than walking out of there on her own would be. She could move, but she had to take small steps because of her soreness.

Her dad, Kane, and Alyssa had all returned, and Bellamy's mom was there, too, to see them off. She was wearing her uniform from the hotel, so Clarke took that to mean she was either headed to work right after this or she'd come here over her lunch break. Either way, it was pretty nice of her to be there, for all of them to be there.

Out at the car, Bellamy took the lead on getting Avery fastened into her rear-facing car seat. It took up a lot of space in his backseat, but that was because it was the convertible kind that would last into Avery's childhood, as well.

"Alright, I think she's good," he proclaimed.

"Dad, can you check, just to be sure?" Clarke asked her father. Not that she didn't trust Bellamy's opinion, but he was new at this just like she was.

Her father stretched across the backseat, gave the car seat a few tugs, and it didn't move out of place. "Feels sturdy," he said.

"Okay." Now that they were actually out at the car, the thought of driving home was filling Clarke with something very akin to dread. Thank God they were just in Arkadia, not a busy city where accidents happened all the time. "I'll ride back here with her," she decided. She almost sat right down until she remembered that she had family members who deserved a proper goodbye and expression of gratitude for being there. "Thanks, you guys, for being here," she said.

"Of course," her mom said. "It's a big day."

"A good day," Aurora added.

Clarke looked up at her, curious as to what it had been like for her when she'd taken Bellamy home. Had anyone been there to support her, to check her car seat and make sure it was sturdy, or to make sure she sat in a wheelchair on her way out the door? She'd always respected the woman, but now, imagining her going through all of this on her own . . . she respected her even more.

"I hope you don't mind if we kind of . . . limit visitors for a while," she said to all of them. She and Bellamy had discussed it, and it definitely seemed best to keep this first week home pretty low-key.

"We understand," Kane said.

"It's just that-"

"You don't have to explain, Clarke," her father assured her. "We understand. Besides, Alyssa and I have to be heading home anyway."

"But we'll come visit when you're . . . ready for visitors," Alyssa added.

"Okay." That sounded . . . like a plan. A non-overwhelming one. "Thanks."

A few hugs and kisses later, she sat down in the backseat, and Bellamy shut the door and walked around to the front. When he got into the car, he looked back at her and asked, "You ready to go home?"

She smiled at him, feeling . . . as ready as she'd ever be. As nerve-racking as it all was, she couldn't wait to be back in her own house, back in her own bed. Back out at the beach with the two most important people in the world to her. Just the three of them.

Clarke didn't even bother to look out the window on the drive home. Her attention was completely focused on the baby, on the way her body still sort of curled up, as if she were back in the womb, and on the way she yawned. Clarke hadn't expected her to yawn yet. For some reason, watching her do that felt as amazing as anything she'd ever seen.

"You're still going the speed limit, right?" she asked Bellamy when it seemed as if they were picking up speed a bit.

"I'm going our speed limit," he reassured her.

"Good." A car whipped pass them, and she said, "Yeah, go ahead and pass us. We don't care," as if they could hear her. People probably wondered why they were going so slow, but surely they'd understand if they knew what precious cargo they had in this car seat. "Aww, Bellamy, you should see her right now," she said as Avery's eyes started to close. "She's getting sleepy."

"No, keep her awake," he said. "We don't want her to sleep until we get home."

"She's gonna sleep when she wants to," Clarke said. "And we're gonna sleep when she wants to."

"Sixteen to seventeen hours a day, right?"

"Yeah. But in spurts. She's gonna keep us hoppin'." Luckily, her impatient pregnancy bladder meant that she was used to only getting a few hours of rest at a time, so hopefully this wouldn't be too big of an adjustment.

"I'm glad I was able to get the week off," Bellamy said.

"Me, too." She wished it was more, but paternity leave wasn't so much of a thing as maternity leave was. "It'll be so much easier with both of us taking care of her."

"And I get to take care of you, too," he said.

She looked away from Avery long enough to glance up at him. "You get to?" she said. "Don't you mean you have to?"

"No, I get to." He met her eyes through the rearview mirror, just for a second before returning them to the road.

God, she thought, feeling as amazed by him as she was by Avery. Most girls longed for this kind of guy their whole lives, and yet she'd found one in the tenth grade. "I love you a lot, Bellamy," she said, feeling like she'd be saying that a lot now that she was getting a second—or technically third—chance with him.

"I love you, too," he said, once again glancing back at her in the mirror.

But a lot of other people wouldn't have after what she'd done, after what she'd kept a secret. And that was what made his love even more special. Remarkable, really. She felt so damn lucky.

Since they were going at such slow speeds, it took a lot longer to get home than it normally would have. What was typically a ten minute drive took twice as much time, and then getting Avery unhooked from her car seat took even more time. There were so many straps and hooks, which Clarke was eternally grateful for. Because even in-town roads could be dangerous.

Someone had taken it upon themselves to put a big "It's a Girl!" display in front of the house, complete with pink balloons and streamers attached, none of which was particularly friendly for the environment but all of which was adorable. "Who did all this?" she asked.

"Raven and Harper, I think."

Yeah, that definitely looked like Raven's handwriting on the sign. "Get a picture," she told Bellamy, posing with Avery next to the sign.

Bellamy set her bags down, backed up a bit, and whipped out his phone to snap the picture. In the past couple days, he'd probably taken more pictures than he ever had in his life. They were going to have to get more storage on his phone or something. Hers, too. And she'd already decided that they were getting print copies of all these photos. She was going to make a scrapbook, so that way Avery would be able to look back at it someday when she was older, just like Bellamy and Octavia sometimes looked at their family's old photo albums.

Walking in the door felt . . . momentous, and Clarke exclaimed, "Welcome home, Avery Blake!" hoping for some sort of reaction. A happy smile. A giggle or a gurgle. Anything. But Avery was on her own schedule, eyes completely closed. "Yeah, she's totally sleeping," she said.

"So we've probably got an hour or two to just relax," Bellamy said.

"Probably." It didn't sound like much because . . . well, it wasn't.

"Alright, you do that," he said, closing the front door. "I'm gonna go put some of this stuff away." He grabbed her hospital bag, which looked a lot fuller than it had when her dad had retrieved it for her—stuffed animals from the gift shop, most likely, gifted to Avery by her friends—and started up the stairs.

"Sorry I'm not much help," she called after him, shuffling towards the couch.

"Don't worry about it."

She sat down with Avery, content to just hold her. She didn't need any background noise like the TV or even music. She felt like she could just sit with her daughter in silence for the entire hour or two that she decided to sleep. She could just watch her. Because god, she was beautiful. Just a beautiful little girl with soft skin and thin wisps of blonde hair. And tiny eyelashes and a little button nose. Seeing her and holding her was such a range of emotions. Love and pride and an overwhelming urge to protect, most of all. But there was something else mixed in there, too, something most other mothers probably didn't feel. Something she knew she was allowed to feel but still wished she didn't.

Guilt.

...

Although she wasn't sure how it'd happened, Clarke's back-to-school trip to Target took a turn when she stopped looking at highlighters, pencils, and binders and instead started looking at baby clothes. Somehow, she'd just meandered from one part of the store to the next.

For girls, there were lots of princess clothes. Lots of them.

"What are you doing?"

She startled when her mom came up to her. "Nothing," she said. "I was just . . . looking."

Her mom grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the clothes. "You shouldn't be doing that," she whispered. "People could see."

Would anyone really put two and two together yet, though? Clarke doubted it. But someday, they would. Someday, it'd be obvious. "Eventually, everyone's gonna know," she pointed out. "I'm gonna start showing."

"Clarke . . ." Her mom stopped walking, held her hand up, and then clenched it into a fist, squeezing nothing but thin air. "Let's not talk about this here," she said tensely. And then she resumed walking again, so Clarke just sulked after her.

They didn't speak when they got in the car, a whole bunch of school supplies in the back seat that Clarke wasn't even sure she'd get to use. She'd overheard her mom and dad talking last night about online classes. Apparently they thought going to high school while pregnant was going to be too hard on her. Either that or too scandalous.

The car ride to the store had been mostly silent, and Clarke didn't want to the ride home to be an exact repeat of that. So she blurted out something that had been on her mind for the past couple of days: "I think I'm gonna tell Raven."

Her mom's hands tightened on the wheel. "Why?" she asked.

"Because she's my best friend," Clarke said, not sure that she really needed any other reason. "Because I need somebody to talk to."

"You can talk to me," her mom offered.

"Somebody my own age." Talking to her mother about all of this was stressful. Maybe talking to her best friend would be . . . therapeutic.

"Well, Raven's never been pregnant before," her mom pointed out. "She doesn't know what it's like. She's not gonna be able to give you any advice."

"Yeah, but . . . she'd listen."

Her mother let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. "I don't think you should tell her yet," she said.

"Why not?" Clarke asked.

"Because . . . then it'll get around to everyone."

"Raven can keep it a secret," Clarke insisted. "I trust her."

"But what if she tells her boyfriend?" her mom said. "And then her boyfriend lets something slip to Bellamy? You don't want him finding out that way, do you?"

Clarke frowned. "No." Of course she didn't want that. If—when Bellamy found out, it had to be from her. She really didn't think Raven would tell Zeke, not if she begged her not to. But . . . they were close, and they didn't keep secrets from each other. So she supposed it was possible, and if Zeke knew, then he might drop a hint to Bellamy, maybe just unintentionally. He was Bellamy's friend more than he was hers, after all.

"So we should just keep it in our family for now," her mom decided. "It's no one else's business."

Even though Clarke knew it was ultimately up to her to decide whose business it was and wasn't, she felt powerless to combat her mother's decision on the matter. In fact, she just felt pretty powerless in general, like her life was swirling all around her, lifting her up and hurling her in all directions like a hurricane.

Silence descended over the two of them once again for the rest of the drive home. But when they actually walked inside, Clarke found her voice again. First she dumped her school supplies on the couch, then she went back to the kitchen counter and sat down while her mom started to make lunch. "You know, the other night, I heard you and Dad talking," she said. "Fighting. And I heard you say I'm not ready to be a mom."

Her mother stopped for a bit, hand on the refrigerator door, and halfway looked back over her shoulder. "You're too young," she said simply before resuming the task at hand. Which appeared to be sandwiches, since she pulled turkey and cheese slices out of the fridge.

"I know," Clarke acknowledged. "But I can get ready. If I have to do this . . . then I can."

Setting the sandwich supplies down on the cutting board, her mom stopped what she was doing for a moment, gripped the edge of the counter, and quietly mumbled, "Well, that's just it, Clarke: You don't have to do this. You have options."

Options? Clarke thought, mulling over the word. Logically, she'd always known that, but the fact that they hadn't yet discussed them had pretty much made her think they didn't exist. "What, like adoption?" she said.

Her mom didn't answer.

"Raven was adopted," she said. "But not every kid is." That was what was so scary about that. Sure, it could go well, and her baby could end up with a loving father like Raven had, or a loving mother, or, best case scenario, two loving parents. But it could also end up in foster care, bouncing around from one home to the next without ever having a true family. "I don't know if I could . . ." She touched her stomach, feeling a surge of protectiveness for something that didn't even really exist yet. Her baby was more of a fetus at this point, didn't even look completely human if all the drawings online were to be believed. But it was going to grow and become a baby, and she wasn't sure she could picture herself giving a baby up. And she definitely couldn't picture Bellamy doing that. "I don't know," she repeated, not about to rule out the idea entirely, even though it seemed far-fetched. "I mean, it's a great thing when it works out, but . . . I don't know."

Her mom didn't turn around, didn't even look at her, when she lowered her head and muttered, "Well, that's not your only other option."

Clarke's frown deepened. "What do you mean?" She couldn't very well just give the baby to Bellamy and not be a part of its life. That wasn't fair.

Slowly, her mother turned around, a tired, forlorn look on her face. "Do you really want me to say it?"

Clarke just stared at her, and by not saying anything . . . that said it all. "No," she whispered, horrified as the realization of what her mother was suggesting finally dawned on her. "No, don't." That wasn't an option.

"Clarke-"

"Mom . . ." She tried to say more, but words escaped her. So she just shook her head wordlessly as horrific thoughts filled her mind. Thoughts of what it would be like to have an abortion and have this whole problem go away. Except it wasn't just a problem, was it? She felt awful for even thinking of it that way. "I can't . . . I can't do that," she stuttered. "You don't want me to." She waited a few seconds for some kind of confirmation of that fact, for her mom to assure her that mentioning this particular option was just a formality or something. But that never happened. "Right?" she whimpered as her fingers started to tremble with fear.

Her mom's eyes filled with tears, but only momentarily. Then she gulped, blinked them back, and calmly declared, "I don't think we should rule it out."

What? Clarke thought, panicked. Was this even real? Were they seriously having this conversation?

Apparently they weren't, at least not fully, because her mom turned back around and got right back to work making lunch. Saying nothing else. Even though now, neither one of them could think about anything else. Now that her mom had vocalized it, it was out there, this option that Clarke had deliberately forced herself not to think about or even consider this whole time But now that it existed, dangling invisibly in the atmosphere, she wasn't sure how to get it out of her mind.

...

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, waiting until she was sure the tears were gone to open them again and look down at the perfect little person in her arms. Her first baby had never gotten to the point of having eyelashes and fingernails and hairs on the top of her head. Or his. Maybe it would've been a boy.

"I love you, sweetie," she whispered, hoping that she could at least try to make up for the past by being the best mom that she could be now. She'd pretty much anticipated that her emotions would be all over the map after giving birth, and they definitely were. She wasn't going to let anyone tell her how to feel, though. Between the past and the present, she had a lot of conflicting internal stuff going on. And that was okay.

Bellamy must have made quick work of unpacking her hospital bag, because he came back downstairs in what seemed like no time at all. Or maybe it had taken longer than she'd realized, and she'd just been too absorbed in Avery to notice. "You think we should put her down in her crib?" he asked.

"Oh . . . probably," Clarke said. "She needs to get used to it." She handed the baby over to him, even though she would have been perfectly content to just keep holding her. For a while. Forever.

"You stay here," Bellamy told her as he headed upstairs with Avery.

She felt like such a lump on a log just sitting there on the couch by herself without her little girl. She couldn't help Bellamy unpack, and with these stupid stair restrictions, she couldn't even put her own daughter down to sleep. So what could she do? She didn't want to be useless for the entire week.

Wincing, she stood up, ignoring the slight ache between her legs and in her lower abdomen. It wasn't super painful, but it was still enough for her to notice. Still, she made her way over to the stairs, looked up towards the top, and decided not to be intimidated by them. Even though it seemed like there were a lot more of them than she remembered. "Bellamy, I'm coming up!" she announced. She stepped onto the first stair, and that felt fine, until she put all her weigh on that foot as she tried to step up to the next one. That pulled a little. This was definitely going to be a slow climb.

Bellamy came to the top of the stairs when she'd only accomplished three of them and disapprovingly asked her, "What're you doing?"

"I'm coming up," she said as he practically ran down to where she was. "I really—I feel like I'm fine with the stairs."

"Dr. Jackson told you to avoid 'em," he reminded her.

"Actually, he told me to limit them," she said, holding onto the railing tightly. "We have a two story house. It's not practical."

"Well, that's why I'm here to sweep you off your feet." He bent down low enough for her to grab hold of him and put one arm around her lower back, the other under her knees. "Got it?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, giving in to his assistance as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her up slowly and carefully, and he carried her upstairs with ease. "Okay, this is kind of nice," she admitted. Not only did it alleviate any physical pressure from her body, it also made her feel good that he was even able to carry her again. It'd been a while.

"You wanna lie down?" he asked her.

"No, I wanna see her."

He headed in the direction of the nursery, which was pretty dark since he'd pull the curtains shut. He set her down and turned on the light, though, so she could get a good look at Avery in her crib. She looked cozy, or as cozy as anyone could be with no blankets or pillows. Part of Clarke wanted to change her out of those clothes and into some pajamas, but she supposed it didn't really matter very much. Avery was gonna sleep no matter what she was wearing

"This is perfect," she said. "I feel like I could just stand here and watch her for hours."

"Yeah, me, too," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "But we can't." He held up his phone, upon which they'd installed a baby monitor app that provided not only sound but video, too, from a little camera perched on the end of Avery's crib. Clarke had it on her phone, too, and planned on watching it incessantly. "We've got this," Bellamy assured her. "We can't be paranoid."

"I wanna be paranoid, though," she whined.

"I know," he said. "But we can't hover around her every second of every day."

She sighed, taking a few more seconds to watch the little girl sleep. She lay still on her back, probably couldn't have turned over yet if she tried. And if she did, they'd see it on the monitor, and one of them—probably Bellamy—would rush in there to put her on her back again. But when he went back to work and she was home alone, even if she had to run up those stairs to get to her, she'd do it without hesitation.

"We're not letting this out of our sight, though," she said, pointing to his phone.

"Oh, hell no," he agreed, putting his hand on the small her back to guide her towards the door.

"And let's just leave this open," she said, pushing the door all the way back against the wall. No reason for it to be closed. This way, if their app malfunctioned for some reason, they'd still hear her cry.

Clarke knew that, if they went into their bedroom, she'd probably just lie down and watch the monitor, analyze every movement and overthink everything. So she told Bellamy she wanted to go outside instead. Not far, of course, because . . . Avery. But far enough where she could feel like she wasn't being quite so paranoid. They walked out onto the balcony, and Clarke was able to let a different feeling of contentedness wash over her as she looked out at the ocean and inhaled the salty-smelling air.

"Remember when you first came back," she reminisced, "and we spent that night together?"

"Yep. Met up at the bar, ended up here." He smirked. "Not gonna lie, that was kinda my plan."

"Oh, I'm sure." It hadn't been her plan. In fact, none of this had been. "That was a good night," she said, sort of in awe of how much had changed since then.

"Five years in the making," he said. "Do you have any idea how nervous I was?"

"What? About . . . sex?" She found that hard to believe.

"Yeah. I mean, I know I got skills, but I wasn't sure if my skills were still . . . the best you'd ever had," he confessed.

"There's no competition," she assured him.

Slowly, he grinned and said, "Same."

You taught me everything I know, she thought. In fact, if things had gone differently and they'd decided to stay together when he'd gone to college, try to make the long-distance thing work, then she probably never would have slept with anyone else. But then Avery wouldn't be inside in that nursery, so . . . she couldn't completely regret the way things had turned out.

"I had no idea you had so much goin' on at that point," Bellamy went on. "How sure were you that you were pregnant?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "Fifty/fifty. Maybe a little more than that. But being with you that night . . . it made me forget how scared I was. Everything just felt simple. Even though it wasn't."

He turned his whole body towards her, put his phone down on the railing, and said, "Remember how we were standing right out here?"

"Yeah. And you gave me that look," she recalled. "Like the one you're giving me now." Bellamy Blake always knew how to absolutely personify that stupid heart eyes emoji. When he looked at her, it was pure love. "And then you kissed me," she said, holding her breath for a moment as she thought back on it.

"How well do you remember that kiss?" he asked, moving a little closer.

"Pretty well," she said.

"Can I refresh your memory anyway?"

She smiled at him, no need to answer, and closed her eyes as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It was just a soft kiss, nothing too hot and heavy, but it was still enough to make her heart beat faster. And he didn't stop at just one kiss. He drew it out, made it deeper, and pulled her whole body close to his. Without that huge baby bump in the way, she actually felt like they were able to stand close together again.

"And then we did a little more than kissing," she whispered as their mouths parted.

"Yeah, we did."

"But we can't do that right now. So . . ." She trailed off, not quite sure how they were going to go weeks without . . . really reconnecting, without being together in that way that had always come so naturally to them.

"That's alright," he said. "Kissing's fine." He leaned back in, once again covering her mouth with his. Bellamy was a great kisser, and she was ashamed to admit that, sometimes, in the midst of all the other stimulation he gave her, she overlooked that fact. But simply making out with him was just as good, if not better, than full-on sex with anyone else. So maybe this sexless recovery period wouldn't be so difficult to endure after all. He'd still find ways to ravage her. With Avery's wonky sleep schedule, finding the time was probably going to be the bigger issue.

As their kissing began to intensify, Bellamy started to back her up towards the railing. She felt his phone bump against her back before falling right off the railing.

"Oh, shit," he swore.

"Oh my god, Bellamy!" she yelped, looking down at the ground. Where even was it? In a bush?

"I didn't mean to . . ." He trailed off helplessly.

"Go get it!" she yelped.

He ran back inside, and she stood looking down over the railing, waiting for him to appear out there. It only took him a few seconds to get down there and start looking around. He seemed to spot it right away but had to practically crawl into the bush to reach down and retrieve it.

"I got it," he called up to her, holding it up for her to see. "Look it's fine. Didn't break, still works. Baby monitor app still works. We're all good."

"Thank God." They needed that thing. It was very important.

He brushed a couple of leaves off of it, looked up at her, and exclaimed, "We're gonna be great parents!"

She laughed, hoping that was true. He was already pretty great, and she didn't feel like she was doing such a bad job, either.