A/N: Woah. This will be my first completed story once this goes up-exciting but sort of sad, I suppose. I'm actually quite satisfied with this chapter, although it may seem a little rushed to you, dear reader. God bless ya'll, and please review!
I'd like to say that the eight months that followed went by quickly and easily, but they didn't.
Owen and I decided to announce our engagement before the announcing my pregnancy, in hopes of avoiding "did-the-marriage-cause-the-baby-or-did-the-baby-c ause-the-marriage" looks from our families.
I was slowly integrated into Owen's room—first a couple of my picture frames went up on the wall, then the closet re-organized. Eventually it became ours, a label which I liked very much and used often—our room, our bed, our apartment.
My room would become the nursery, until we could (hopefully) afford our own place. For now, it would be furnished with an old crib (courtesy of my mother, who had kept ours in the attic even nineteen years after the birth of her last child) a changing table, various baby toys, and a stockpile of diapers.
We held off on learning the sex, wanting it to be a surprise.
By the time our apartment was as baby-proofed as possible, I was, for lack of a better phrase, ready to pop. Sleeping was becoming increasingly frustrating, as was getting up after sitting down and using stairways.
Labor was, honestly, a relief.
There was quite a bit of screaming—weather it was mine or Owens, I wasn't sure—and a few pushes and grunts later, we had a baby boy.
Caleb Thomas Armstrong was ten pounds and three ounces of human perfection. He already had a wisp of blonde hair and would always stay quiet if he heard music playing somewhere—two traits Owen was already very excited about.
Our wedding was five months after Caleb's birth, which had given me enough time to lose some pregnancy weight and let my boobs return to their normal size. My mother would watch Caleb while Owen and I honeymooned in a little beach town called Colby on the east coast.
On the drive down, he asks me a life-changing question.
"Can we go to church?"
I barely hesitate. "Sure."
"I've been listening to a lot of Christian music."
"Really?"
"Mhm. It's kind of interesting."
"Placeholder."
He grins. "It's enlightened."
That's all we say.
A charming hotel suite sprawls before us, and the first place we go is the bed.
For the second time ever and the first time in fourteen months, we make a connection in the darkness—this time with no hesitation, no guilt, and no worry.
"Annabel?" he says later. His arm is draped around me and nothing but skin is between us. "I love you."
I position my body on top of his and place a long, slow kiss on his lips before I whisper into his ear, "I love you too."