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“Babe. C’mere. Hold my hand.”
“What? What? What is it?”
“Just close your eyes. Keep them closed. Just listen to me.”
“Okay. Alright. Eyes shut.”
“Do you feel it? Notice anything different?”
“Mm. Not sure. Have you eaten?”
“Earlier, yeah. But this is not about the food.”
“You’re... fuller. That's all I can feel.”
“Yeah. I am.”
“You’re telling me this because you are bloated, or...?”
“No, dumbass. Come on. Use your brain a little. Why would I feel fuller?”
“Uh. Because you have just eaten. Or there’s too much gas inside you. Or you have gotten weight.”
“Do I get any weight that easily?”
“Should I know that?”
“If you actually pay attention to how I look, sure.”
“I do. But... no, you don’t.”
“Exactly. Why would I get any weight? On purpose?”
“Maybe because you don’t like how you look like right now. You don’t feel as pretty as you are. To me.”
“This is not the time for compliments...”
“I can call you pretty anytime. There’s no rules for that.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point. I’m not pretty.”
“Always so stubborn...”
“Shut up—just focus on this.”
“You do feel fuller. Like you’ve been eating more than usual.”
“That part is true... but think for a bit. Think of the reason why I’d be like this. Why would I be holding your hand on my stomach right now.”
“...”
“Trent.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not.”
“I don’t.... I don’t know if I’ll be good enough. For you. For...”
“I don’t know if I’ll be good for this either. But that’s the thrill of it. Not knowing. Learning. Together.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“You’re making it sound like torture.”
“It’s not! That’s not what I meant...”
“You’re scared. I’m scared too. But don’t you feel it? The warmth?”
“I do. I do.”
“Don’t you want to hold it?”
“I do.”
“Don’t you want to see me happy? With it in my arms? When I wake up early in the morning and take it from its cradle to see your face there?”
“Of course.”
“Wouldn’t you want to make it come true?”
“I wouldn’t want to let you down. When I’m too stressed with everything else and may spend my frustrations on someone I shouldn’t.”
“I will get stressed too. That’s just part of it.”
“I got a whole business to take care of. But I don’t want it to get in between our... little world.”
“Then don’t let it. Take some time off. They’ll understand.”
“Maybe it’s about time.”
“It definitely is. Have you seen those eye-bags?”
“They’ve always been there.”
“I’ll cover them up with patches.”
“What, you’ll give me a skincare routine after father duties?”
“I’ll make sure you feel safe. That you don’t get overworked by it. That you wouldn’t feel the need to be on my place all the time.”
“You’re carrying it. It’s what I should do.”
“But you don’t need to.”
“You’ll let me anyway.”
“You know I will.”
“You always do.”
“What else would I do then? Rotting in bed? Feeling my chest hurt because it had bitten too hard and eat chocolate to recover?”
“And sit yourself prettily in bed while I take care of everything else.”
“Come on. I don’t like being in bed all day.”
“You already stay in bed all day. With that damn phone. Doing anything else but hanging out next to me.”
“Because you’re in the studio all day!”
“Does that stop you from knocking on my door every once in a while? Saying hi? Peeking out and seeing me hit my head on the table?”
“I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
“Of making you mad. Of making you forget a pattern you’ve made up in your head. Or a lyric that you’ve finally pulled out of yourself after a few hours of nothingness.”
“As if I truly would be bothered by you sitting on my couch and watching me.”
“Cut me some slack. You know how I am.”
“Yeah. Hiding yourself in there, away from me... instead of being right here in my arms...”
“Eugh. Ew. Stop.”
“What? You’re melting.”
“Yeah, because you’re so icky and clingy.”
“Am I supposed to not be over my girl? My knocked up girl?”
“Fuckin’ stop...”
“You love it. Say it.”
“I love it.”
“What do you love?”
“You. Clingy. So clingy. Sticky.”
“That’s why you let me do that to you?”
“I would’ve let you regardless of it.”
“But it helped, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. Plenty. Yeah.”
“God. You’ll get so plush. I’ll watch you grow it so beautifully...”
“Shut—shut up. You sound so cheesy.”
“Yeah, well... it got you blushing anyway.”
“I’m not blushing. It’s... the heat.”
“Sure thing. You are sweating. Like you still got something to tell me.”
“Do I?”
“Do you?”
“I’m... I’m keeping it. But that’s obvious.”
“You’re giving me the honor?”
“I’d give you anything.”
“Even this?”
“Including this.”
“Fuck. That’s all I need. Just you, rounded up and flushed, carrying my kid...”
“We haven’t even married yet. This... this wasn’t...”
“No. Don’t say that. Don’t say it like you regret it already.”
“I don’t. That’s the point.”
“I won’t make you regret it. I swear. I won’t ever. I’ll make you the happiest mom in the world. I’d give you anything to have this. Just this. Just us.”
“What will people think of you not marrying me first?”
“Does it really matter?”
“No. No. It doesn't. No.”
“Exactly. Just let me...”
“Trent, it’s too early.”
“I wanna hear it. I don’t care. I wanna feel it.”
“Is there anything in there?”
“There is. My baby. Right here. Under my ear.”
“Can’t we do this in bed?”
“We can do this always. We got plenty of time.”
“I’m cramping.”
“Five more minutes...”
“Fine. Fine.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
“Good. Good...”
“I love you.”
“Love you too. Always, baby. Always.”