My Future Husband

Chapter 20

A/N: Super long chapter incoming...

FOURTEEN MONTHS AGO

MAY’S P.O.V

“Oh, come on, Dad. Where are you?”

I’m so close to being done here, just need to change one more strip light and I might actually be able to get some sleep.

I stand to look out the cafe window again, but I can’t see him, not that I can get a very good view with my bump pressed against the glass like this.

“I promise, he will be a good Gramps to you, he’s just got the time keeping of an old tortoise.” I shouldn’t really be pushing him, he’s been so tired lately and he hasn’t stopped working on this place, but I just want it all finished before my little one comes.

It’s amazing though, right? I mean, it’s almost exactly as I pictured it. Warm comfortable couches, big open kitchen, a place for everyone and anyone to come and just forget the world for a meal.

Although I’d be able to enjoy it a lot more if the light bulbs worked and I could actually see it in the dark!

“Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.” How many pregnant women must it take to change a light bulb?

One, especially if she's on a mission.

I drag the little step ladder behind the counter, resting the strip light where I can reach it. They’ve all been pandering to me too much anyway, refusing to let me do anything. This morning Steve took the fucking knife off me when I was buttering my toast! Said ‘what if you slip and fall and accidentally stab yourself in the stomach...’ with a butter knife! He’s taking this whole protective uncle thing a bit seriously. He wasn’t even this bad when it was Brie!

“Okay little one, just do me a favour, no big kidney shots while I’m up there? Don’t want to drop this thing on my head.” I can’t believe how close to the end I am now, as I step up the ladder I can feel the weight of him bearing through the pins in my ankles. They’ve held up pretty well considering, I feel like I’ve been bouncing a watermelon on my bladder for weeks now.

I get up onto the second step, stretching as far as I can and managing to loop my nails around the broken bulb, tugging it down and magically missing my head. Look at me, rocking this strong business woman thing already. Who needs a man?

Putting the new one back in however, not so easy. I have to step up again, managing to get it in one side, but the other one just won't fucking give!

*Ding Dong*

“It’s too late, Dad. I’m doing it.” Or at least I’m trying, if this end would just go in!

To quote Happy Gilmore – It’s your home! Go in your home! Are you too good for your home?!

The need to constantly rest throughout my pregnancy has given me so many new movie references. Oh, and me and Steve have got three episodes of Drag Race stocked up for tonight. Winning at life!

“Where do you want these?” Fuck, that’s not Dad.

I completely freeze, that’s a voice I haven’t heard in over eight months.

“Craig?” I try to hold the light in place, twisting on the step ladder to see him standing there, bigger if that's at all possible. He looks a fuck lot better than he was when he was threatening to kill me in Italy, that’s for sure. “What... What are you doing here?”

He hasn’t spoken to me, not once. I haven’t even seen him, even though I know he lives on this side of town now.

Oh god... Do you think he’s seen her?