𝙱𝚊𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎| 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫

XCVII

June, 1981

Another two months flew by, and the baby could arrive any day now. I'd been receiving gifts from plenty of different people, since I didn't want a baby shower. There was no way I was gonna watch all my friends being allowed to drink and have fun while I just sit there, nursing an orange juice.

Brian and John both bought the baby a stuffed toy, one was a simple brown bear and the other was a lamb wearing a pink tutu. Freddie had bought her several barbies with different outfits. Willow had bought one of those baby doll things, Raven bought a dr Seuss book, Morgan had payed for a mini electric guitar that was pink and glitter-y.

And surprising my mum and dad got me a gift as well- well, it was probably only my mum and she just signed from her and dad on the little card, but nonetheless I was grateful, she had bought a few Disney books and DVDs for her.

I was nine months, ready to give birth and still had no name that came to mind. Willow thinks I should name the baby willow, Raven thinks I should name the baby Raven and Morgan thinks I should name the baby Morgan. I told them they all sound like awful names, which offended all three of them and made me laugh.

The names Roger tried to convince me to choose from were... Interesting to say the least. Mercedes, Elise, Chevy, Eleanor. Christ he even thought about calling her Veyron! Which by the way, if you didn't notice the pattern, they're all the names of cars.. yeah..

Of course I disagreed to every one of them, although I did think Chevy was a nice name, but there was no way I was naming my daughter after a car! And Roger was disagreeing to all the names I had in mind, like Sara, Bella, Donna, Crystal, Caroline, Juliet. Which, is all Fleetwood mac songs or Stevie Nicks songs.

Roger and I had taken things slow, he started taking me on dates to restaurants, cafe's and such, while continuing to bring me flowers and gifts. And there would be hardly any kissing involved unless it was a quick peck. I told him to take things slow and I meant it.

Surprisingly, he seemed to take it better than I had expected. He never complained, he never pushed boundaries, or tried to rush things. But I won't award him or praise him for it, considering it is the bare-fucking-minimum for a man to do.

I was on my couch, packing a hospital bag for when I go into labour, while the TV was playing. While I was putting in some toiletries and a few books, I heard the telephone ringing.

I groaned, as I pushed myself up off of the couch and walked over to answer the telephone. "Hi! Ophelia Spencer speaking." I greeted, twirling the wire around my index finger.

"Hi, Spence. You alright?" He asked, probably calling to make sure I hadn't gone into labour.
"Still pregnant, don't worry, you'll be the first I call as soon as she's about to arrive." I grinned.
"Speaking of, have you thought of a name yet? I've been trying to think of one, but I can't." I asked, resting my hand flat on my stomach.

"Uhh... yeah... "
"I'm not naming her Porsche."
"Well, there goes the first suggestion." He joked, prompting me to stiffle a laugh, before I felt a lightbulb flick in my mind. "What about Stevie?!" I squealed.

"After Stevie Nicks?" He asked, with a sigh, as I rolled my eyes. "No, Stevie Wonder. Yes, Stevie Nicks!" I exclaimed.
"No. You're too obsessed. Pick another name."
"Coming from the guy who tried to suggest Chevy." I scoffed.