33. Thirty-four weeks

We get interrupted by his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans. “Sorry, just a second.”

He takes a few steps away from me and answers the phone. “Yes?”

I stare at his back. Listening.
“Yes, Tom.”
“Just a few more days.”
“Yes, Tom—“ he sighs. “It can wait a few more days.”
“Well, tell them I don’t care about that stupid deadline!”

He ends the call, turning towards me with his phone still in his hand.
“Are you hungry? Let’s make some dinner.” He walks past me, inside the kitchen.

I follow him, stopping in the doorway.
“It’s okay, you know.” He turns his head toward me. “If you have to go back.”

“Not before we figure out what—“ his eyes fall to the ground. “Whatever is it we have to figure out.”

“We have time, you know.” His eyes find mine. “Thirty-four weeks of time.”

“Thirty-four weeks,” he repeats. “That sounds so far away and so close at the same time.”

“Yeah,” I stammer. “I don’t think I’m ready.. to be a mom.” He turns fully, taking a few steps closer.
“I know it’s scary.” He says softly, taking another step so he is right in front of me. “You’ll be a great mom, you know that right?”

I sigh. “I’m not so sure about that.”

He reaches for my cheek. “But I am. I wouldn’t choose anyone else to be my kids mom.” His eyes look into mine and something insides me shifts.

“I hope our baby has your eyes.” I say.
His lips curl into a small smile. “I was just going to say the same about yours.”

I smile back at him. “I always loved your eyes. They have this sparkle, they are the perfect shade of brown.”

He chuckles. “My eyes and your hair?”
“Deal” I chuckle.

“Now, let’s get some food into that growing belly of yours.” Bill’s hand settles on my lower belly, his eyes follow.

“I’ll make you something nutritious. It’s important now. And have you started taking your vitamins? I can go get you some.” He rattles on. “Oh and what about pregnancy yoga? That’s a thing right?”

“Bill, calm down.” I laugh. “I’m pregnant. Not sick.”

“I know I just—“ his smile fades slightly. “I just want you both to be healthy.”

I reach out, resting my hand over his where it still lingers on my stomach.

“We are healthy,” I say softly. “And we have plenty of time to find the right vitamins and the most ridiculous yoga classes in the city. I promise.”

He nods, though I can see his brain is still whirring at a hundred miles per hour. He abruptly turns toward the fridge, switching back into ‘provider’ mode with a sudden burst of energy.

“Right. Food.” he says, pulling out a carton of eggs and a bundle of spinach as if he’s preparing for a culinary exam. “I read somewhere—or maybe I heard it—that leafy greens are essential. Folic acid, right?”

I lean against the doorframe, watching him move. He’s usually so composed, so in control of every room he walks into, but seeing him get flustered over the nutritional value of a spinach omelet is doing something to my heart.

“I didn't know you were such an expert on prenatal nutrition,” I tease.

“I learn fast,” he shoots back over his shoulder, a hint of his usual cockiness returning. He cracks an egg with one hand, a move that looks far too practiced for someone who claims he never cooks.

—

After we had dinner, we went to the city. First of all, to get those vitamins. Second, because Bill couldn’t stop talking about the baby’s first outfit.

Am I surprised? No. Do I think it’s a little too early to buy baby clothes? Yes.

“What about this? I think it’s super cute.” I turn to Bill who is holding up the smallest onesie I have ever seen.

“Super cute,” I copy his words. “But we don’t even know the gender yet.”

He shrugs. “I think it’s a girl.”
“Oh really? And why is that?” I ask, taking the onesie from his hands.
“It’s just a feeling.” He shrugs, already holding up another onesie.

I shake my head ‘No’ and he puts the onesie back down.

“What about this one?” I turn toward him. He is holding up another onesie, unisex this time.
“This suits for a boy or a girl.”

I walk over to him. “I love it.” I say, smiling, taking it from his hands.

“Let me buy it,” he says, softly grabbing my arm as I start walking toward the checkout.
“You don’t have to..” I mumble.

“I know,” he says, his eyes making it clear he won’t take no for an answer.

We stare at each other for a few seconds. Then I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”