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“Can we go look at the babies?” I asked. “At least, I’ll get to look at something cute.”
Trace feigned that I had hurt his feelings by frowning and placing a hand over his heart. “And I’m not cute to look at?” He questioned.
“I look at you all the time. I’m sick of your face,” I snorted, shuffling along like a ninety-year-old lady.
“That’s a new one,” he chuckled. “Most people never get sick of this face.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. For the first time, I noticed that he hadn’t shaved in quite a while, and almost had a light beard.
“You really need to clean yourself up,” I joked. “You’re looking like a-”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he narrowed his eyes playfully. “I always look fabulous…even when my girlfriend has nearly worried me to death.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. How silly of me,” I shook my head as a cough raked my body.
Trace stopped and looked me over. “Are you okay? Do we need to go back? Can you breathe?” The questions tumbled from his lips without a breath in-between.
“It’s just a cough, Trace. Calm down,” I proceeded to shuffle forward on the carpeted floor.
“Sorry,” he smiled bashfully. “It’s been a rough ten days,” he bit his lip. “I’m still a little jumpy.”
“I feel…not fine…but not like I’m on my deathbed. Chill, okay?” I pleaded.
“I’ll try to tone down my concern a notch,” he cleared his throat.
“Or three,” I eyed him.
He shook his head at me. “No promises on that one. Let’s get this over so I can get you back in bed where you’re safe.”
“What are you going to do when I go home? Bubble wrap me to the bed?” I scuffed along in the hospital issued socks.
His lips quirked up in a small smile. “That sounds like a good idea.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered scathingly.
“No, Olivia. I’m concerned. I never want to have to watch you almost die, again,” he spoke seriously.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I know you’re worried about me, and here I am, acting like a bitch,” I frowned.
“You’re sore and tired, it’s expected for you to be a little snappy,” he chuckled. “I’d be more worried if you were acting like nothing was wrong.” He read a sign and pointed to our left. “Babies this way.”
We, or I, shuffled forward the last few feet and stopped in front of the glass window separating us from the newborn babies.
They were so small and helpless. Most of them were sleeping but one was crying, her small arms forcing their way out of the blanket, swaddling her small form. Another, a boy based on his blue knit hat, eyed Trace and me with wide blue eyes. His small pink lips formed an O as he looked at us. Dark hair peeked out from the edge of his hat. He was so adorable with his plump cheeks.
“I think he likes us,” Trace pointed at the baby.
“What’s not to like,” I poked Trace’s side lightly. “We’re ah-mazing.”
“Ah, how could I forget,” he winked at me. Growing serious, he gazed down at me, with dark green eyes. “One day, I’m going to put babies in your tummy, and watch my love grow inside you.”
I laughed. “You’re full of it.”
“I’m serious, woman,” he scoffed.
“I know you are,” I wet my parched lips with my tongue. I really needed some more water. With one last glance at the sweet babies, I turned around, “I’m going back to my room. I’m tired.”
Trace helped me back to the room and into bed. I finished the cup of water and asked for more before I finally let myself fall asleep.
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