ROCKSTAR ⇒ jegulus

THIRTY THREE

Two days later, James gets the results of his photoshoot back, as he is curled up snugly in his bed, a hot water bottle beneath his aching pelvis. It is a dull ache, however it is additionally an ache that James is not willing to endure for much longer.

He presses a hand to his pelvis, adjusting the hot water bottle carefully, and with little ease. James drops a hand to rest over the curve of his baby bump, humming, if not wincing a little at the ache in his pelvis.

"Mummy is absolutely shattered, honey," James says softly, his hand laying over the spot that his little girl is kicking beneath. "I think I'm at that stage where everything is just starting to hurt, but we've got some lovely photos to swipe through, eh? And I've still got ten weeks left,"

"I've still got ten weeks left," James muses. "Until I get to meet you, and hold you, and-" James pauses, cutting himself off. "And then we'll all be like a little family,"

We'll be like a little family. A very, dysfunctional, potentially, eventually, a blended one too.

"You, me, and your daddy," James mumbles, his fingers tracing small shapes along his bump, his pyjamas shirt ridden up a little to accommodate his growing belly. "In ten weeks time, it'll just be the three of us, huh? Just me, and you, and your dad,"

James pauses, just for a second, to think about his next words; to fully mull over them. "Your dad loves you so much, honey. He really, really, does. I...I used to wonder if we could do this, the whole baby thing, together, y'know? But right now I don't think there's anyone else that I'd rather have a baby with,"

"I suppose, I don't know? Maybe years ago, I used to picture settling down with a pretty girl, a nice girl, like your auntie Lily. I thought I'd be married, and then there would be babies. I...I didn't really know I'd end up going down this route, but...but I'm so glad this route happened to me. I'm so glad that you happened to me, sweetheart, I-I'm so glad," James utters.

He begins to skim through the photographs, emailed to him by the photographer. She had left a little message for him, just above the images.

Dear James,

Thank you for allowing me to shoot you! It was a pleasure to work with you, and to take these photos of you.

I'm not sure if you will notice, but I have purposely neglected to edit your photos. I didn't brush over them, or filter them, or anything of the sort. I think that you looked beautiful, and I always rather to leave shoots that are so special unedited. I hope that that is okay with you, but if you'd rather a more glossy look to them, just drop me an email, and we can sort something out!

I hope you had a nice time, getting the opportunity to photograph you and Regulus was truly a pleasure. Wishing you both the very best of luck with your little angel.

James smiles softly, scrolling down towards on his phone to open up the various photographs that have been sent to him. His confidence faltering, unsure of how to feel. He had at least hopes that the photographer would supply him with a small, gracious, amount of editing.

He scrolls through countless photographs of himself; halting when he scrolls past a photo that he actually does not seem to hate all too much.

In fact, James feels less self conscious, as he looks at the image.

It is filtered black and white. His shirt is unbuttoned, his belly rounded out and soft; his lips slightly parted, stray strands of dark hair hanging down into his eyes, his hand sitting on his belly, fingers spread out. He is looking up at the camera.