Chapter 23:

Sam POV-

For the record, it's not exactly fun being pregnant. Looking at ultrasound images, finding out the genders, decorating, buying stuff, eating whatever you want (or don't want but are craving), that's the fun part. Everything else kind of sucks.

The next couple of weeks were no exception.

Right now, I'm actually ten weeks, but everyone thinks I'm eighteen weeks, but physically speaking, the babies are about twenty-one weeks along. I feel very pregnant. Which I guess I am, considering the doctor estimated that I could deliver in five to ten weeks.

Assuming that I do, that would make everyone believe that I am between 23 and 28 weeks pregnant, making my babies preemies at best. Luckily, the survival rate for babies between this many weeks is generally between 50 and 80 percent, so their survival won't exactly be hard to explain. Of course the fact that they are fully grown and perfectly healthy at the assumed twenty something weeks, might raise some suspicion. However, I suppose we can always make something up about miscalculating the conception or something like that. Of course, then Mrs. Fenton might get on our case, because that would mean that Danny and I had sex more than once.

So, overall, my pregnancy is a mess.

And, to make matters worse, Paulina is officially pregnant, my guess would be about four weeks along. She showed her six positive pregnancy tests to everyone at school yesterday. And completely blew up her Facebook and Instagram with selfies like 'OMG I'm preggo!' which…wasn't everyone already supposed to know that?

I just don't know how all the oblivious people of this city function. Seriously! If Danny was supposed to have bought her pregnancy tests at the drugstore five weeks ago, why would she just now be bringing them to school? And if she has, supposedly, known she was pregnant with "Phantom's baby" the whole time, while is she just now, barely, beginning to show?

And then of course, here I am, with a timeline that fits a hell of a lot more accurately, but the people in this town are too stupid to pay attention to that.

Not that I'm really complaining.

But she certainly has gotten a lot of media attention out of it. She is on every local news channel in Amity Park.

"Well, of course Phantom and I are keeping the baby," she told the press.

"Do you have any names picked out?" the woman with the microphone asked.

"We're thinking Missy Celine if it's a girl, and Adam Channing if it's a boy," Paulina said.

"Oh God, kill me now," Danny whined next to me on the couch. Not that I could really blame him, now his reputation would be forever tarnished not only for "sleeping with" the biggest slut in town, but also for supporting those terrible, incredibly shallow, names.

"Would they take his last name or yours?" the interviewer asked.

"Mine," she replied, "Phantom said he doesn't want to remind our child that they are half-dead."

Danny choked on his soda.

"Have either of you discussed the amount of danger that your child could be in with them having such a powerful father?" the woman questioned. At this, Paulina actually seemed stumped.

"Well…so long as he continues to protect the city and keep the bad ghosts out, then we should have nothing to worry about…" Paulina lied.

"Speaking of bad ghosts, there are some that consider Phantom to be an evil ghost? Do you agree with these assertions? Do you think it is possible for your child to be evil as well?" the woman asked.

"No, I don't believe Phantom is evil at all! He is a great person, and just because he is a ghost does not make him evil! I hate how everyone saws such horrible things about the man I love! And as for our child, he or she will not be evil because Phantom is not evil and it will be raised by me!" she exclaimed.

"Hmm…that's the only intelligent thing I think she's said all night," Danny announced, clicking off the TV.

"All night? Try ever," I joked, "Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?" he asked me.

"Somewhere, anywhere, where Paulina's face isn't all over the news," I told him, towing him out the front door.

We didn't have a destination in mind; we just sort of walked around town. As the sun was beginning to set, fewer and fewer people crowded the streets and sidewalks. We stopped at one of the family owned ice cream parlors in town. I ordered one scoop of mint-chocolate-chip, and one scoop of cotton candy with caramel sauce and gummy bears. Yes, that may be a gross or weird combination, but I'm pregnant, and that's what I was craving.

We sat at one of the tables outside of the restaurant. The night air was warm, but a slightly cool breeze blew.

Suddenly, someone I did not want to see walked by on the sidewalk in front of where we were seated.

My mother.

She paused in front of us. Just long enough for me to know that she had most definitely seen us, that she had most definitely seen me. Danny stiffened, resting his hand on my knee, not sure what was going to happen.

But nothing did happen. My mother just simply pushed her nose higher into the air and stalked off like she had never even seen us, like I had never ever been her daughter.

Maybe it's the hormones, or maybe I'm actually just upset, but tears began to form in my eyes as I licked what was left of my ice cream, although, somehow, it didn't taste as good anymore.

Danny, of course, noticed.

He pulled his chair close to me, close enough to where he could put his arm around my shoulders. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to. There was nothing he could say that would make this situation okay. He had no way of understanding what I was going through so he could not even empathize. But just by holding me and comforting me, he was able to express everything he didn't say.

"Come on," he told me, standing up and helping me to my feet, "Let's go home."

By now, the news was over, there was no more Paulina polluting my screen, for now. There was nothing but me and Danny on the couch. His parents were still out, and Jazz was still working on a project. So we sat in silence, just the two of us.

I cried no tears. I wanted to feel the sadness that my mother had given me, but it just wouldn't come. So, I absentmindedly put my hands on my enlarged stomach rubbing it. Suddenly, I felt something. I rested them there again, waiting to feel it. And, sure enough, I felt the movement again.

"Danny, put your hand here," I told him my sadness forgotten, moving his hand to the spot I had felt the kick.

A few seconds later one of the twins kicked again.

"Wow…that's so weird," Danny mused, running his hand over my stomach.

"Not really, I mean we both know that they're in there," I said quietly.

"I know but…to actually feel them move…it's not the same as seeing them on a picture," he replied.

"You know, they say that they can hear us," I told him, "We should talk to them."

"Um…okay…hi Elizabeth, hi Grayson, I'm your daddy," he muttered quietly. They must have heard him, because I felt several movements at that moment.

"And I'm your mommy," I cooed. They kicked again. Danny and I grinned at each other.

We carried on a one-sided conversation with our twins for about half an hour, until his Jazz came home.

I looked at the clock: 10:30.

It was a lot later than I had expected, and I was suddenly a lot more tired than I thought that I was.

"I'm going to bed," I announced, yawning.

"Sounds like a good idea," Danny agreed, also yawning, helping me off of the couch and up the stairs to our room.

We got changed; Danny didn't even bother to put on a shirt as we got into bed. He kissed the base of my neck, rubbing my stomach.

"Goodnight, Sam," he told me.

"Goodnight, Danny," I replied, closing my eyes and letting sleep take over me.