Okay, I don't know how to make my poll about what Izzy should name her son on my profile so after this chapter I will post the possible names and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE post what you think the name should be from the options I post in a review. PLEASE! I can't decide on a name and if you all don't vote then I'll probably chose some lame generic name or something.
Also, please review to tell me any ideas you have for the story and your opinion on this chapter.
I have noticed that I saw PLEASE a lot. Ha ha.
I do not own Twilight all that is Stephanie Meyers.

chapter 6.

"Hey, I'm back!" Paul's strong voice boomed all through our apartment. I felt sick.

"Welcome back Paul," Baillie greeted her favorite werewolf and I imagined the kiss I was sure they were performing right now.

With a gulp I stood. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

"Hey Paul." I attempted an expression of nonchalance but I'm not sure if it worked. Oh well, he wasn't in here anyway.

"'Sup Iz." Paul said walking in and grabbing one of the dozen ham sandwiches Baillie had made him.

I smiled, somehow we had all become a family. I've always considered Baillie my sister (although I'm not so sure if the feeling is mutual right now) and through her Paul has become my sometimes-annoying big brother. Very BIG brother, I still get surprised a little whenever I see him stand, he's so freaking tall it's crazy. "It's a wolf thing," he had said with a shrug when Baillie and me asked about it.

Okay, now how should I go about this? Maybe I should just say it like I did with Baillie... but remembering her response... maybe not.

Paul can sense the tension in the air though, his dark eyes keep flashing between me and Baillie like he's watching a tennis match but doesn't understand the language the commentator is speaking.

I can do this. With a deep breath I opened my mouth, but then I smelt the sandwiches and a wave of nausea flooded me. I stood up from my chair so abruptly that I heard it fall back behind me as I raced to the bathroom. I got their just in time as my belly emptied itself into the toilet.

I am vaguely away of someone holding my hair back, the hands are too small to be Paul's; maybe their is a chance to salvage my relationship with Baillie. God I hope so!

"Damn Izzy! You okay?" Paul asked, I imagined his face and laughed a little.

"Yeah, I through-up 'cause I think it's fun." I used all my energy to put as much sarcasm in my voice as I possibly could.

A little more bile came up and I waited a few minutes before I stood up straight again. I wobbled slightly and Paul grabbed my elbow just in case. After a few seconds of making sure I wouldn't fall or vomit, I flushed the toilet and brushed my teeth without a word. I felt their eyes on me and though to myself, Well, at least I can start out by saying I got morning sickness.

After I had rinsed several times, I looked up at them. Baillie didn't look surprised or taken aback at all but Paul seemed a little nervous that I would puke on him, this made me give a slight laugh again.

"Uh ... so," I cleared my throat, "I have morning sickness."

Baillie's eyes widened but I knew it was just 'cause she didn't want Paul to know I told her first; she was feigning surprise.

When Paul didn't say anything I continued. "You see ... I'm ... uh ... p-pregnant." Well, it could have been harder.

Baillie gasped, her hand flew to her throat, he face was a perfect mask of utter shock. Paul looked dumb-founded.

"Um," was all Paul said. I know what he's thinking, his first thoughts were obviously taking him back to our night outside the bar ... the conceiving of my little boy. And for some odd reason, I smiled when I though that ... my little boy.

I raised my shirt over my stomach, Baillie left the room, stalked off to the kitchen as I has assumed she would but Paul just stood their. Staring. I immediately felt self-conscious, my face turning bright red. This might've been a bit much.

"Is it ...?" I heard the unfinished question of his.

I want to tell him. I want to tell him that this is our son. But I can't, if I want any chance of keeping Baillie as my friend, I can't.

"No," the word tasted so wrong on my tongue.

I pretended not to notice his sigh of relief.

"I'm scared." This wasn't a lie at all. I am oh so scared, of oh so much.

Finally Baillie came back, again moving too fast for my feeble human eyes to follow.

I hated the bitter triumph I saw in her eyes, but the kind smile playing on her lips didn't hold the same expression.

"It's okay Izzy. It'll all be okay. Promise." She murmured, her silver bell voice made mine in comparison sound so horse and weak.

Baillie hugged me gently like I was a fragile glass doll, and in a way I feel like a fragile, glass doll.

I am a fragile glass doll, my skin in covered with spider web cracks.

I am oh so breakable.