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“Nothing is official without Facebook,” he says, throwing my panties and bra to me.
“Um, I disagree. This kid is growing with or without Facebook.”
He sticks his tongue out at me, and I roll my eyes as I slip my bra on. “True, but I want everyone to know.”
“Why?” I ask, hooking the clasp.
“’Cause I’m proud of my little family.”
That makes my heart melt as I slide my panties up. Grinning over at him, I say, “Wow, that’s dots worthy.”
He flashes me all his teeth as he reaches for me, pulling me out of the bed. “Hey, just ’cause we are married doesn’t mean I won’t make you swoon still.”
“I think it’s a rule. That stops.”
He scoffs. “Not in this marriage.”
I grin at him, and he hands me his phone before he goes down on his knees. Looking up at me with his lips pressed to my belly, he asks, “How’s this look?”
I shake my head, holding the phone out to the side before clicking the picture. “There.”
Standing up, he takes his phone and nods. “That’s the winner.”
He holds it out for me to see and I grin. We look so cute, his eyes squeezed shut as he kisses our baby. I love how in love he is with our child. He is always talking to it, telling it how much he loves it. It’s beautiful and so awe-inspiring. He blows my mind. Truly.
“It is,” I say roughly and he winks before sitting down beside me. I reach for my phone and he types away as I lean against him. I check my mail while I wait to see what he posts. He’s known for his over-the-top posts, so I’m really excited but a bit nervous. I don’t know why, because everyone already assumes we are pregnant since we got married so quickly. I want people to know we got married because we are in love, not because we were pregnant. But really, would we have done it this way if we hadn’t been pregnant? I know the answer, but I just don’t like that everyone’s right.
When a text sounds, I hit it, seeing that it’s from my mom. I haven’t heard from her in weeks.
Mom: Hey honey, you busy?
Me: Nope, we just moved in to the apartment.
Mom: Oh! Fun! Is it nice?
Me: It is for us.
Mom. How sweet! I remember my first apartment. Poor Seth had to sleep in our room with us.
Me: Wow, yeah, we have two bedrooms. Jace already has the crib set up.
Mom: Aw! That’s sweet!
Me: Yeah. I’m happy.
Mom: Good, you should be.
I smile at that as another text comes through.
Mom: How are you feeling?
Closing my eyes, I beg the tears to not fall. I’ve wanted my mom to ask me this since the moment I told her. I wanted her to care, to share funny little stories, and tell me it gets better. Instead, Lucy and Jace’s mom have been doing that.
Not my mom.
And that hurts.
Me: I’m not puking anymore, which is awesome, but I’m still tired, all the time.
