warning: description of a panic attack, i just wanted to forewarn anyone in case it's too realistic or triggering for some people
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"YOU'RE RIGHT-THIS IS A SHIT HOLE,"Roman drawled carelessly, one arm around Rory's shoulder as they ate their respective meals atypical of the local diner, one of three restaurants in the town, while the critical stares of the denizens bared into their backs, all of whom had been eavesdropping on their conversation since they walked in and sat in the corner booth much to Roman's great annoyance.
"I did not say that," Rory protested, offering apologetic smiles to the disgruntled looks tossed their way. Subtle, Roman was not. "I said it's cozy."
"Same difference," Roman smirked mirthfully, fully enjoying being glared at. It seemed to only encourage him. "I can't believe you convinced me to spend my spring break here."
"Well, would you have let me go on my own?" Her brow arched, challenging his ego. His face curdled at the idea of Rory flying across the country, halfway through her pregnancy, to the small little town that caused her many traumas. "That's what I thought," she declared triumphantly.
He rolled his eyes at her. "Perhaps we should move to a city then. Penthouse for you and mini-me."
"But then you'd have competition. Financially speaking, of course," she amended her statement at his pinched expression. A spoiled brat is what he was. That didn't make her love him any less. "You wouldn't be the only spoiled heir. And you like being the richest man in the room, love."
"Baby, I could buy this whole town off with my weekend allowance and not touch a single penny of my inheritance," Roman baited her, holding her gaze amusedly. He liked to rifle her feathers, being overly obnoxious in public being one of them he took too much joy in. "Just say the word," his breath fanned across her face.
She narrowed her eyes, mouth setting in annoyance. "Stop fucking around, you've made your point to the locals I think," she tilted her head toward to the bewildered and offended looks on the diner's patrons faces.
The thing about small towns like Forks, people never changed. And when change walked back into town with a rich boyfriend and a baby bump at stead, attention was inevitable. Roman exuded arrogant, rich boy with every atom of his being, not just his clothes or haircut or cologne, but the way he looked at people, not like they were nothing, no, like he knew exactly their value and what they would do for him. It was scary sometimes, but it was who he was. Rory had long accepted that part of him.
She pressed her lips to his jaw, warning him to 'stop it now or else'. He smirked, leaning back in the cushy booth seating as his hand moved to her baby bump, drawing a smile on her face despite his antagonistic mood; she had officially hit five months before they left town.
It was incredibly daunting to the expecting parents how fast it was all going-Rory barely had half the things she would need for when their baby arrived. It wouldn't be a problem to afford the growing costs with both Roman and Rory's inheritance-her mother was a goddamn surgeon-but they didn't even know their child's gender, not until the next appointment at least. However, they tended to refer to the baby as a girl, mostly based off of Rory's strong feeling and further bolstered by the baby gifts she continued to receive from "an old friend".
