Expiration

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I wake up with a dead arm, having been pinned under Carl the whole night. I sit up and shake out the pins as Carl rolls over, the muscles in his back relaxing. He yawns, but still remains asleep.

I now begin slapping my arm against the bed post to rid it of the numbing sensation. No pain has ever hurt so good.

"Goddamn," I curse under my breath. My arm has regained feeling, but now all I'm feeling is bruising in my forearm. "Son of a bitch!"

"That's not very nice," Carl mutters, his head still on the pillow.

"I wasn't talking to you," I tell him. "But I should have been. Thanks for killing my arm, by the way."

"Not my fault I fell asleep on it," He responds, finally sitting up. He blinks and shakes out his hair, which is getting really long now.

I brush it tenderly away from his eyes. As I pull away, he grabs my hand and kisses each and every finger. Twice. I smile stupidly, and he kisses me, long and soft and sweet.

I miss those kisses. The ones that make my heart race and my toes curl, the ones that fill me up with heat and bliss. But I can't let myself get too attached to them now--he'll have to be saving them for the baby.

"Want to go see your kid now?" I ask him. "I can hear him downstairs."

He hesitates. "He sure has some pipes." It's true, we can hear him wailing and the women shushing him.

I take a deep breath. "All the more reason to go downstairs. Once he sees his dad, I'm sure he'll chill out."

"Okay," He agrees. "But... What if he doesn't like me?"

He will. He'll adore you, just as I do. "He will," I reply briskly. "He'll love you."

***

"There they are!" Maggie announces our arrival a little too cheerily. "Melly, it's time for your son to meet his daddy!"

Carl winces. I do too. It sounds so weird the way she says it, like we're unveiling some huge mystery. Maggie seems to realize this too, for she quickly gestures us over to the couch, where Melly is breastfeeding.

"Support his neck, there you go." Aunt Kizzi chides Melly on gently. "He's a hungry one."

"He is a hungry, hungry boy, aren't you, Shane!" Melly coos. "Yes you are!"

"Shane?" None of the women can mask their surprise--and undoubtedly--their disapproval. "You called your son Shane?"

"Yes," Melly says. "Shane Melvin. It was Carl's idea for the Shane part. I chose Melvin after Yara's brother."

"Very nice, Melly," Aunt Kizzi says, suddenly losing all her energy again, and silently resuming her observation of Shane's feeding.

Carl tenses beside me. I know why. Beth, Maggie and Carol have retreated into the kitchen, but I know they're talking about the kid. Before they left, I heard Carol whisper, "Rick's not going to like this." And she's absolutely right.

Melly looks up. "You want to hold him?"

No, I really don't. Luckily, she seems to be addressing Carl, who looks nearly as unwilling as I feel. Still, he sits down next to her and accepts Shane from her arms.

He's tiny, but fits perfectly in his dad's arms. Now that I can get a look at them together, I can see that they really are undoubtedly father and son. The sharp blue eyes, the flush in their cheeks, the black in their hair. The only really noticeable thing he inherited from his mother is his bone structure. Where he lacks Carl's sharp cheekbones and jawline, he takes Melly's softer chin and rounded face. Still, he's incredibly cute.

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