February 16, 2023 (Thursday)
"Do you have any 5's?"
"Sorry baby. Go fish."
Mercedes let out an audible sigh as she drew from the pile of playing cards. As Sam started to ask her if she had any queens, she threw her hand of cards down on the bed and let herself fall back against the mound of pillows behind her.
Sam took in her exasperated expression as he sat cross-legged at the end of the bed. "Are you okay?"
The singer shook her head against the pillows, "This bed rest is making me slowly go insane. For real—I heard about girls getting tired of being pregnant towards the end but now I actually know what they mean. I can't go anywhere. My manager's already agreed to 'run interference with the media on anything that might 'stress me out', my stomach's blowing up like a balloon in the Macy's Day parade, my back hurts if I stand too long, and Valentine's Day was really fun—I loved the dinner you made, but…" she took a deep breath and finished with a pout, "…it's really boring here when you're gone."
Sam's lips tugged up in a slight smirk, "Is that your way of telling me you miss me?"
"Hell yeah, it is!" she replied sassily, still grimacing at him.
He rubbed her leg affectionately, "You're almost back to home plate, Benz. And with the first season of X-men wrapped up, I'll be around a lot more now."
"Great," she replied sarcastically. "Now you'll get to be bored with me until our babies get here."
"What—are you serious?" Sam replied with a growing smile. "Hardly a dull moment when you and I are together."
He winked and rolled off the bed in one, agile motion. He relished in amusement at the suspicious gaze Mercedes was now giving him while he walked around to her side of the bed and stared thoughtfully.
"What are you doing, Sam?" she asked, sounding like she didn't have the energy to indulge him.
He didn't answer as he turned and waltzed out of the room, leaving Mercedes feeling slightly dumbfounded. She let out another sigh, listening to his footsteps hurriedly fade down the hallway, and sat up again to gather up the cards from the bed. As she did so, she heard a thudding noise, followed by her husband hissing an expletive.
Her brows came together, "Sam?"
"I'm fine!" he quickly called back. Soon, he returned to the room, greeted by the suspicious scowl on his wife's face. He smirked, approaching the bed with his hand extending out to her.
Her suspicion dropped purely to a frown as she asked, "Where are we going?"
"Just come with me. You're not gonna regret it—I promise."
Mercedes pursed her lips. Eventually though, she stretched her hand out and accepted his help to sit up from all the squishy pillows and scoot to the edge of the bed until her toes touched the carpet. Her free hand rested on the top of her large tummy while her other hand remained in Sam's on the way out of the bedroom.
He led her to their living room and let go of her hand once she'd passed through the threshold.
"Sam, what are you doing?" she asked again with a little more sharpness in her voice this time. Right away, her eyes took in the change in the living room furniture. The two lazy chairs were pushed towards the wall and the coffee table was flipped up onto one of the couches.
He didn't answer her question. With his back to her now, he had wandered over to their entertainment center beneath the living room television and crouched in front of the stereo. His hands moved about the various buttons and knobs until he found what he was looking for. Sam stood to his full six-one height again as the surrounding speakers filled with the introduction to Al Green's "Let's Stay Together".
Sam turned around to see Mercedes finally smiling at him. Her head tilted to one side while letting soft giggles pass through her lips. He watched her grin at him as he came back to her with his hips swaying to the beat. When the lyrics came in, he lip-synched along, causing her to giggle again.
She pressed a few fingers over her mouth, feebly covering up her growing, appreciative smile. He sidled up to her, placing a hand on her hip while the fingers of his free hand intertwined with hers. She felt his hand on her hip grip her gently, guiding her further into their living room-turned-dance space. There was no way for her not to give in to his silliness because she'd also found it cute. And surely enough, he was right—she didn't regret leaving their bedroom to do this.
"Babe, I love this," Mercedes softly told him.
"Youuu make me feel so brand neewww…and IIII wanna spend my life with youuu…" Sam sang aloud to her with a smile.
Unable to resist, Mercedes looked in his eyes and sang too, bringing herself as close to him as her tummy would allow. "Since…since we've been together, lovin' you forever, is what I neeeeeed…"
"Let me be the one you come runnin' toooo... I'll never be un-truuue..."
Mercedes shook her head, smiling still as she sang through the chorus but Sam joined her during, "Whether times are good or bad—happy or sad..."
They kept swaying in unison to the music—Sam held her close and kissed the top of Mercedes head as she rested her cheek against his chest. As the song faded and transitioned to another Al Green number, "I Can't Get Next To You" Mercedes let out a blunt chuckle and shook her head, "How ironic."
Sam's brows came together, "Huh?"
With dry amusement, she let go of his hand to point to her stomach, "'I Can't Get Next To You'?"
"Are you kidding me? I'm pretty sure I can get next to you," Sam appeased with a light-hearted chuckle. "If I couldn't, I wouldn't be able to do this…"
Sam removed his hands from around her and gingerly cupped her cheeks. He bent his face to hers and kissed her. Her felt her fingertips touch his elbows as she kissed him back, but her lips suddenly went still against his—her hands clutched at the bend of his limbs and she gasped.
"What? What is it?" he asked, as she pulled away.
Although she couldn't see past her belly, Mercedes looked down, panicked, "My water just broke!"
"WHAT?" Sam said, a little louder than intended. He took a step back from his wife and watched her pajama pants quickly begin to darken. His eyes widened as though a flower were beginning to blossom out of the fabric.
"Oh my God—this is it! We need to get to the hospital," Mercedes urgently stated.
Sam did not reply. His eyes were fixated on her dampening pajama pants.
Mercedes reached up to give his shoulder one, hard shake, "Sam!"
"What!" he accidentally hollered back. "Sorry."
Mercedes glared, "We need to get to the hospital. Now! And you need to call Dr. Bourdon."
"Right!" he said, steeling himself. Without further discussion, he bolted out of the room, back towards their bedroom, leaving Mercedes standing there.
"What the—where are you going?" she called after him, toddling out of the room as well.
"To get the bags ready," he replied. "We haven't done that yet! God, we're not even ready!"
"I know, but we'll get there! And at least we got their outfits ready to go." She slipped into the nursery to grab said outfits and carried them with her across the hall to their bedroom.
Mercedes entered the room, coming to a halt as she watched Sam dart out of their closet with his arms full of clothes. She slipped her thumbs under the elastic waistline of her pants but paused when her eye caught a glimpse of what Sam was about to shove into a suitcase.
"Uh-uh! I am not wearing sweat pants for our homecoming. I have my purple dress picked out for that."
"But it's February!"
"And? We live in Beverly Hills. I'm wearing that dress when we come home with our babies."
Unable to see the logic, but lacking the attention span to argue further, Sam snatched the sweats from the pile, handed the Ed Hardy sweats to Mercedes, and sprinted back to the closet. This time he emerged with a purple poplin notch dress with a wide, leopard print belt hooked on the hanger. "This one?"
"You know it," she sassed, entering the closet and emerging with a large shirt to also change into. She waddled to their bathroom and said, "Don't forget to call the doctor!"
"I won't!" Sam replied, already having forgotten. After speed-dialing the gynecologist on his cell phone, he went back to stuffing clothes for him and Mercedes into the suitcase. By the time he'd finished the call and had their bag packed, Mercedes had come out of the bathroom, searching for her Vans slip-ons.
"Benz, I spoke to Doctor B—" He paused, raising his brows in slight amusement. "You put on make-up?"
"Yes," she replied indignantly while grabbing her purse. "You must be out your mind if you think I was gonna leave this house without makeup." She shook her head at him while waddling out of the room.
Still slightly amused, Sam shook his head at her and slipped his feet into some Vans of his own, "I should've known better." He picked up the suitcase, along with his phone, keys and wallet and followed Mercedes out, smiling to himself. The next time they returned home, it would be with their son and daughter.
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