"Stop!" I giggle as I try to finish painting the white wall blue. Marcel keeps tickling me and he thinks it's funny, so do I but I don't want him to know that. As I'm finishing up the wall, I feel paint being splattered all down my back. I freeze and stand there silently for a few seconds before turning around. "Marcel," I begin and he holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm going to k-"
"Kiss me?" He smiles cheekily, cautiously walking closer and closer before dropping the paint brush from his hand and onto the floor that was covered in plastic. He smiles and puts his large hands on my waist before leaning down and pressing his soft lips to mine. I keep the paint roller in my hand as we continue to kiss passionately and then.. "Oh my god, Riley!" He screeches when he pulls away and his hand goes directly to the back of his head where the blue paint now was.
"Oops?" I drop the roller and bring my hands up innocently. "It slipped?" I giggle.
"Mhm, it slipped. I'm gonna slip and get paint all over you." He smiles before dipping his hands in the paint bucket and getting closer to me. I put my hands out to stop him while backing up.
"Baby, please! I'm sorry! I promise I'm sorry and it won't happen again." I try to sound innocent but he shakes his head. "Oh baby! Come closer with them fine large hands." We both burst into laughter and he drops his hands down to his sides.
"My fine large hands?" He laughs and I cross my arms.
"Your hands are sexy." I assure him before picking up the paint roller and chuckling a bit. I turn back around and start painting again when I feel his strong arms wrap around my waist and his head on my shoulder.
"You're sexy." He whispers in a raspy voice which causes goosebumps to form all over my body. "Think about what these sexy hands are going to do to you once this baby bump is gone." He chuckles and my heart beat quickens. It won't be long until Ashton is out of me. It's been three months since the baby shower, and now I'm due in less than three weeks. I'm getting anxious and I'm also scared about the fact that his room may not be done in time. Lucky me, I have the best fiancé in the world and he is putting the crib together when we're done painting and we ordered his dresser about a month ago and it was just delivered today. Things were going good.
"What if you went into labor tomorrow?" He laughs when he pulls away and my eyes widen.
"How could you say that? That is so scary!" I shout and he continues to laugh.
"Don't worry, miss crazy. He isn't due for another three weeks." He says while finishing the wall he's working on.
Ashton's room is completely finished. It's a good thing that we started painting once we woke up, or else the paint wouldn't be dry and we wouldn't have been able to set up his entire room. Now, I'm completely anxious. But for now, it's bed time! After Marcel and I had gotten our showers, I got dressed in a black pair of yoga pants and an oversized long sleeve shirt. I threw my hair into a bun then crawled in bed with my prince. He wraps his arms around my waist as we lay there and he starts singing to me.
"I should ink my skin, with your name. And take my passport out again, and just replace it. See I could do without a tan, on my left hand, where my fourth finger meets my knuckle. And I should run you a hot bath and fill it up with bubbles. 'Cause maybe you're lovable, and maybe you're my snowflake. When your eyes turn from green to grey in the winter I'll hold you in a cold place. And you should never cut your hair 'cause I love the way you flick it off your shoulder. Mm, and you will never know just how beautiful you are to me. But maybe I'm just in love when you wake me up." He sang softly, sending me off into a deep sleep.
I open my eyes fast, my heart beating quickly and I sit up. I flinch at the pain that I'm feeling and realize that I'm wet. Oh my god.
"Marcel! Marcel please wake up." I shake him, knowing he will since he is such a light sleeper.
"Hey," He rubbed his eyes and spoke in a tired voice. "What's wrong?"
"Marcel, my water broke!" I say, quickly walking to the dresser to change. "Babe please get up and help me I'm so scared!" I shout, becoming impatient. I quickly change into a clean pair of underwear and I pull on a pair of black cotton shorts. When I turn around, Marcel is already dressed and he is rushing around to get my clothes and running to Ashton's room to get clothes for him also. I'm not due for another three weeks, so this is really worrying me.
After getting everything, he helps me out to the car and we are on our way. I squeeze his hand due to these horrible contractions.
"Just breathe. In and out." Marcel says to me like I'm stupid or something.
"I know how to breathe!!" I yell, squeezing his hand tighter than before.
"Ok, ok. Damn.." He muttered. I look at the time on his radio and it's three in the morning. I should not be up at three in the damn morning.
Within thirty minutes, we got to the hospital, checked in, and got a hospital room.
I lay in my hospital bed, whining like never before. "Marcel," I whine and he holds my hand. "It hurts so bad!" I close my eyes and squeeze his hand.
"I know, baby. Just calm down. The doctor said that you'll be delivering really soon." He says, brushing my hair out of my face.
"But he's three weeks early!" I squeeze my eyes shut.
"I know, but it's time for him to come out. Aren't you excited?"
"Yes, but this is the worst feeling ever!" I shout and he sh's me.
"Just get some rest, babe. It's going to be a while. I need to call my mom, so I'll be right back." He stands up and walks towards the window to get signal.
•
•
•
•
After three more hours of being in labor, it was time.
"Ok, I'm going to count to three, and when I get to three, you're going to push." The doctor says and I nod as I stare up at Marcel who is looking down at me with tears in his eyes. Anne is also in the room, and she's standing on my other side, holding my hand.
"I'm scared." I whisper to Marcel and he leans down.
"You can do this, baby. I know you can-"
"Three!"
I instantly start to push and squeeze Marcel's and Anne's hands. I continue to push, and push, and push.
"It hurts!" I shout before pushing again. Marcel is leaning down to my ear, whispering sweet, encouraging words.
"You're doing great, love. Just keep going. Just squeeze my hand." He whispers.
"Ok, one more, we see his head." The nurse shouts and I give one last good final push and suddenly, I feel all of this weight lifted off of my shoulders. I become drowsy, and my eyes become heavy as I hear the constant cries of a baby boy... our baby boy.
