Haste [h.s.]

~42~

trigger warning: detachment/disassociation from reality.

this is also a reminder (once again before anyone comes for me in the comments) that i'm NOT a doctor or medical professional, therefore any medical terminology or explanation described comes directly from online research or from any experience shared from my relatives — with their consent always, ofc.

"Stop stalling."

"I'm not stalling."

"You are."

"Am not."

"I really don't feel like putting up with your toddler antics right now, so you either drop the sewing machine or it'll be up for sale at Ember's shop tomorrow morning." I take the tip of my finger getting caught between the needle and fabric as a sign that his parental protests actually do serve a purpose other than annoying me furthermore during such a placid morning.

It's hard enough that I'm missing Billie's ultrasound appointment to put in the extra time in training with Zayn. I'm no stranger to his wake up calls at the ass crack of dawn, I just didn't know how irritating he could actually be now that I'm experiencing them in complete sobriety.

My phone has not been left out of my sight the entire morning knowing Billie would be at her appointment and I'd be at the track, the only time I left Zayn in charge of it being when I was training and if anything came through about her he would speak into my earpiece and keep me posted.

We'd come back to grab some lunch after Luke arrived at the track for his own practice run, and if I wasn't so keen on laying my hands on him all over again, I would've stayed around to keep my eye on him.

Billie's reached the point in her pregnancy where every prenatal visit to her doctor should be every two weeks. Her visits have become the highlight of our week whenever they roll around and the latest anatomy scans had us obsessing over his little features and claiming which ones were from who.

Dibs on his little nose.

Our little one had been ruthless recently with his activity in the womb and although the doctor said it was normal for someone in his stage, it was causing her to relive her first trimester's morning sickness all over again and it raised some flags for Fran, asking her to come in to have a look at it.

"How'd you even know I was here?" I rise to my feet, completely ignoring the mess of fabric and pin needles left behind me and use my urging steps to push him out of mine and Billie's personal hiding spot until we're back in the main living area.

"Billie mentioned you'd probably be hiding in the locked room." He points out. "Is that gonna be the nursery now?" He lifts his pointer finger back in the direction we just came from.

"We've been going back and forward about color schemes or themes, but yeah." I scratch the light stubble beginning to accumulate on the curve of my jaw. "We wanna wait until everything gets here to start up, though. We got most of the basics on Thanksgiving night and they should be here around these next few days."