“So what are you thinking? Girl or boy?” I ask Harry as he nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck, his curls tickling my jaw.
The two of us were back in our house in London, a couple of days after finding out about my pregnancy in Cheshire. We were laying on the couch; well, at least Harry was – I was in between his legs with my back against his chest and my head leaning against his left shoulder blade. My legs were brought up as I felt Harry’s left hand was slowly circling my stomach.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” he mumbles against my skin, his warm breath hitting me comfortingly. “A boy or a girl; either one would be amazing to have.”
A smile grew on my lips as he spoke. Harry was being unbelievably happy about this, about having his own kid. He had told Paul, Lou, his friends including Ed Sheeran and Nick Grimshaw, and basically the whole One Direction team – or, well, the one’s Harry trusts with his life. Of course, they’re all keeping it a secret.
When One Direction’s management got the news, they immediately said that there was nothing they could really do about it, seeing as it is Harry’s personal life. So they suggested that we don’t really tell the world about this yet, not until I start showing a bit, anyway – which was perfectly fine with me. I didn’t want the fans sending me more death threats than they already do during the beginning of my pregnancy.
I had been feeling a bit dizzy and had slight headaches, nothing too major, but had already begun with the morning sickness. It wasn’t like it was every morning, or more so every other morning. As long as I didn’t have to wake up every morning for the sole purpose of throwing up, I was okay.
So far, I was about two weeks along, and I remember Anne telling me to visit the doctor when I was at least six to eight weeks, unless I had major pains and whatnot. I was also sure that weird cravings would also start in about a month or so, and I didn’t know what to expect. I remembered this one time my mom was telling me about when she was pregnant with me, all she wanted to eat was pepperoni pizza with whipped cream on top. I chuckled at the memory.
“What’s so funny?” Harry asks, placing a soft kiss right below my ear. When I told him about my mother’s craving, he pulled back and gave me a weird face, causing me to laugh. “That must taste horrible.”
“Not to a pregnant woman,” I point out, to which he agreed on. “Hey, can we get cupcakes?”
Harry looks at me, eyebrows furrowing as an amused expression plays on his face. “Cupcakes?” he repeats.
“Yeah,” I nod, pushing myself off of him and sitting up properly. “I want cupcakes. Chocolate cupcakes.”
Harry chuckles, shaking his head. “Your wish is my command, love,” he smirks, “let’s go.”
I grin widely as Harry and I get up from the couch, not bothering to change out of our sweatpants and T-shirt attire. It was lazy Sunday, so why bother changing out of our comfortable clothing?
Pulling on my shoes, I follow Harry out of the house and into his Range Rover. The two of us then hit the road towards Ms. Cupcake, a cute little cupcake store here in London. As we got out of the car, some people recognized Harry. Paparazzi, I realized, when I saw that they were men holding big, fancy looking cameras.
“Sometimes I want to break their cameras,” Harry mumbles from next to me, his hand holding my own as we walk towards the doors of the store, “see how they like it.”