The Worst

Chapter 86

*Yeah so she's not showing yet. I fixed it in the last chapter 

Charlie’s POV

“And to what do I owe this lovely visit,” my doctor grins as soon as he steps foot into the room. “And would you look at that? You’ve brought company along this time around.”

I’m having difficulties wrapping my head around the fact that we’re in May. Like seriously, almost three weeks have passed since Zayn showed me our new house- a place that couldn’t have come at a better time, honestly. The apartment didn’t really feel like something I could call mine; I always felt like a boarder (and it took a little reassurance from Zayn to change that feeling with this new place as well.)

We’ve been switching on and off between the two places, staying in the apartment some nights. Just about everything is moved over, minus a couple of boxes, though. We’ve both been insanely busy and Zayn hasn’t been letting me do much of the moving, really, so it’s been him and the guys when he can rally them. I haven’t told Zayn yet, but I plan to finish moving the rest of our things into the new place today after my internship.  

I’m ready to start a new chapter in our lives.

Because dare I say it, shit’s actually going right. For once. For me. I can’t handle it.

A small scowl rests on Zayn’s lips, him eyeing the doctor while I break from my thoughts and grin widely. “Long time no see,” the doctor comments towards Zayn, smirking. He extends his hand, which Zayn (I think pretty reluctantly) envelopes in his own. “I believe congratulations are in order.”

I know my doctor is a little surprised to see him. That’s not really shocking since the last time Zayn came here with me, we weren’t even speaking to each other (circa the baby shower that he wanted me to have that I didn’t want, leading to the inevitable argument.) “So what’s up?” the doctor asks, glancing between the two of us.

But alas, Zayn’s here now, and we can leave the past where it belongs- in the past, since it’s safe to assume we were both being pretty stubborn during that time. And I’d like to think a bit of maturing has happened since then.

Well, I mean, as much maturation as the two of us could manage.  “I’m here for a checkup,” I explain. “Being that it’s week eight and all.”

Eight fricking weeks of having this little blurp inside of me; a blurp that I tend to forget is there since I’m not even showing. Eeeeeeep.

“And we wanna know if it’s got a penis or a vagina,” Zayn blurts from the chair next to the examination table.

Exhibit A. I mean, he could have been a little less censored, so. 

He’s fairly cranky, since it’s- according to him, the ‘ass crack of dawn.’ (Honestly, it’s really only 8:15 in the morning.) But when I mentioned my check up, I’m pretty sure he got himself and Marley dressed in two minutes flat-albeit they’re both in sweat pants, hoodies and Nikes, but hey. I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Ah, still the charmer, I see.” The doctor turns around to type something into the computer just as Zayn rolls his eyes and switches Marley to his other arm. The baby drinks from his bottle as his head lays against Zayn’s shoulder. “And it’s a bit too early to find out the sex. Give it five or so more weeks, and come back. And then we can go from there. But for now…”

He trails off, gesturing towards the scale. I make my way over and step on, him assuring me that I’ve gained the perfect amount of weight. “You’re taking the prenatal vitamins, right? And keeping up on your light exercise?”