We're Having Our Baby

Eight

"What's gotten into you? We have guest downstairs," She laughs, turning around in my arms.

"Nothing, I just wanted to tell you that," I brush the tiny hairs that fell out of her braid away from her face so I can see her better. She looks down between us and laughs.

"What's funny?"

"There's too much space between us, my stomach is in the way!" she laughs again.

"Are you self-conscious about your stomach?" I blurt.

"No, is that why you said all of those things? Because you think I have low self-esteem?" she questions, and I feel stupid all of the sudden.

"No! I meant everything I said, and I would tell you the same thing a million times. I'm just worried because I don't want you to feel bad about yourself. I want you to see yourself as I do," I say softly, "and you were taking a long time to pick a swimsuit, so I thought maybe you didn't like how you looked..."

"Thank you for caring so much, but I'm okay. I think I look hot! What's it called? A milf? Do you think I'm a milf?" She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

"HA! Definitely, babe. However, I believe there are people waiting for you outside."

"Okay," she's still laughing at herself, "I guess we should go then." Grasping her hand, I lead the two of us downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Would you mind helping me carry the food, babe?" I ask, handing her a plate of veggies.

"Only if you promise to make me a grilled cheese with peanut butter on the grill," she pleads with puppy dog eyes.

"Do I have to?" Em has been craving anything with peanut butter on it, including cheese toasties. I think they're disgusting; I mean who would mix cheese with peanut butter! "I'm joking, of course I'll make it for you, darling," I say after noticing her glare towards my original statement.

"Thank you, baby," she plasters on a smile and swings her hips more than usual while walking away. If we didn't have a party to attend to, I definitely would have taken her right then and there.

"ANNIE!!!" a shrill voice sounds, letting me know that Em has found her surprise. I gather the ingredients to make her godawful cheese and peanut butter toastie and make my way outside.

"I think the grill's hot enough now," James catches my attention.

"Sorry, I took longer than planned. Thanks for watching it though. Would your kids prefer a cheese toastie rather than a burger? I'm already making one for Em," I ask.

"Could you make one for Max? He's been a terribly picky eater recently; it's driving Julia and I insane," James rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, no problem mate."

By the time the food was ready Max wasn't hungry, so Charlotte ate the toastie, which then caused Carey to throw a tantrum. While James and Julia were of course upset with ordeal, I wasn't bothered by it. It kind of made me jealous and I couldn't help but picture the future tantrums over dinners that Em and I will have to deal with. By then the situation won't be as amusing, but I enjoy fantasizing about Em and I's future kids.

"Harry?" A voice pulls me from daydreams.

"Yes, Charlotte?" I give my attention to the three-year-old.

"Will you sing songs with me?" she says in a tiny voice.

"I would love to! Should I grab my guitar?" I ask and she nods her head excitedly. Mitch overhears the conversation and brings two guitars over, one for him and the other for me.