The Bad Boys Baby

Chapter 19 - The Job

Isabelle's P.O.V. 

         Sideways on top of my pink duvet, I open my eyes to Ryder's beautiful face. I happen to be in my clothes from yesterday, which wasn't that bad considering I was in black joggers that were large enough to fit around my waist if need be and a loose, pink maternity shirt. 

        I place my shivering hand across the length of Ryder's hairline before tracing the outline of the scar that is usually hidden underneath his golden hair. I've always wondered how he had gotten it. I guess I've never really noticed it as much. 

        "Good morning, Belle," he smiles at me, then later triggers a large yawn and his arms wrap tighter around me. 

        "Good morning, hot stuff," I take a few more minutes to relish in his good looks before I tackle the day head on. 

        "Do you have to go soon? I have an interview down the street and I'm not looking forward to walking," I stretch while I struggle to get up into a seated position. 

        "You just use me for rides now, huh?" 

        "Yes but not only rides. Kisses too," I smile trying to steal a kiss from Ryder. Let's say I succeeded although it wasn't much as stealing as it was equally given. 

       "I don't have to be anywhere."

       I could've gotten a ride from my mom but I like getting time to spend with Ryder. Ryder laying bared chest is amused by my challenged ability to get up. How dare he laugh at his pregnant girlfriend?

        "This is your fault. You have no right to laugh," I say, seemingly unattached to my claim. I laugh along with him when I nearly trip over my own blanket.

        Ryder climbs over the bed to help me out. I wasn't that big and could handle it but he was worried and there isn't much I can do about that. I walk over to my desk on the other side of my bed and grab a folded towel and look up at my calendar. It's March 25th. Tomorrow, I hit 22 weeks. 6 months of pregnancy. 

       "Damn, the baby comes in 3 months," I mumble to myself, gathering the rest of my toiletries. 

       "What?" Ryder asks sliding his hand vertically on my arm. 

       "Oh, nothing, it's just we don't have a name for her. There are only a few months left."

      "We'll find one."

       That wasn't the least bit reassuring but it is months. I've got time. I guess. 

       Ryder pulls the black crew neck he was wearing last night over his head and kisses me on the forehead. "Pancakes?" He asks. 

       "Sounds great," I smile walking with him out my room and stop at the bathroom. Standing up with an extra 10 pounds or so is proven to be more difficult than I've ever expected it to be. 

       15 minutes straight in the shower strained my knees and ankles. An over exaggeration, maybe. But I am slowly killing myself trying to put my clothes on. 

        Leaving the bathroom, I smell pancakes and a large sizzling sound hitting my ears. I throw my other clothes in my hamper before rushing downstairs to devour the, hopefully, delicious pancakes. If there was one thing I loved most, it is was pancakes. And Ryder cooking them is a bit of an iffy. 

         Ryder places two plates with three pancakes each and mugs of steaming, hot coffee. Sitting down at the table across from him; he grimaces at the taste of his coffee. The strong grimace frightens me. I don't really want to try the pancakes.