HIM.
"So my mom said it's important to talk about our parent roles and expectations so that when the babies come, we aren't upset at each other or confused about what we can handle." The words leaving my girlfriend's mouth sort of went through one of my ears and out the other because my eyes were glued to her wet lips. And it wasn't because I was focusing too hard on her words to successfully process them. See, we established this thing: every now and then we'll have a serious talk with each other while sitting in a bath full of bubbles, and I'll feed her various fruits. One rule, is that the strawberries have to be there. There can be other fruits, but the strawberries...
They better be on the table. Or my head was going to get it. She never did clarify which head would be getting whatever the hell 'it' was, but I don't think I want to find out, so the strawberries will never miss a bath date. That's beside the point.
A water droplet fell from her lips with the movement of them as she spoke to me, and it made my dick stir because I thought of my semen dripping from her lips after I blow a load right between them.
So, of course, I zoned out. And my body jolted when she snapped her fingers in front of my face to catch my attention. Some water splattered on the tiled floor from my sudden movement. Whoops. "Baby, you're not listening to me." She pouts, puckering her cute little lips and giving me a half-hearted glare. I love how she can't stay mad at me anymore. It hurts her poor, emotional heart too much. I apologize, and she softly repeats what she said.
"Right, so obviously you'll be the mom. I'll be the dad," I pick up a blackberry, and eat it for myself, missing the way her body arched toward me, her lips slightly parted because she expected me to feed her next. She frowns and then leans back, watching me enjoy the slight bitterness melt in my mouth with each chew. Some of the dark red juice make a trail down my fingers so I poke her lip with my index finger and thumb, seeking entrance. She seems happy enough sucking off the leftover juices, so it made me feel less bad for indulging for myself.
"If you want to be called mommy and breastfeed, that's perfectly okay with me. We can find some pills for you." She giggles before opening her mouth when I pick up another blackberry. I carefully place it into her waiting mouth, and she suckles my fingers after, cleaning me up.
"Let's not." I roll my eyes. Breastfeeding. "So you're okay with breastfeeding?"
She sighs, cupping her breasts beneath the bubbles. She looks down on them as she tells me, "Yeah. I'm pregnant, right? Might as well do it all. Since I'm twenty two, they won't turn into dry squash, right? How am I going to keep you with me? You like my 38s, remember?" She shimmies a bit in the water, the bubbles frothing her pretty tits. Yeah, I definitely like them.
I feed her another strawberry. "Maybe you should ask the titty doctor or something?"
She shakes her head at me, and moves herself closer to me, planting her ass right on my dick, and pressing her breasts against my chest, her stomach touching mine. She gives me a light kiss on the lips, so light that I was leaning forward for more. More, she denied. For now. "We can't have sex where there is water, Carson. You're going to kill us all."
"You're right. So why don't you get off my hard as fuck dick and let us finish talking so I can pound you into the floor?" I suggest against her lips. She jerks back and gasps.
"The floor?"
"Ass up, baby. As primal as it gets."
She bubbles in laughter before snapping her fingers at me. "Focus. Parenting 101."
"Can we talk about this after I come inside you?"
"That's how we got here in the first place. Be serious," she gives me that mom look she's constantly learning to perfect, and it sets me straight for a few seconds. So far, after we were back on track, we discussed that she wouldn't work until the twins are at least of walking age, and biting age for stranger danger, she says. Though, we're going to hope they don't have to worry about stranger danger at one or two years old.
Since they are little guys coming into the world, they should eat proper food for a while, so we agreed to cook for them whenever they start eating regular food, but we both have no clue when that is. However, Google did tell us that 6 months is the time, so we're going to push it to seven because not all of the Google is right in the world. Can't have them both shitting bricks.
And when they get old enough to eat plates, I'll cook on weekends and some weekdays and Raine will cook on other weekdays. If we're being honest here, I can't remember the last time I've actually cooked food. I guess I'll have to pay attention next time Ryker is cooking for us, or whenever I go to my mom's house.
Oh and we also agreed to fuck like rabbits whenever the kids are asleep. So, I think we're shaping up to be pretty damn good parents.
MONTH 6.
HER.
I pick up a shade of green (avocado whip) from the millions of shades in the paint section of the home store. Carson shakes his head at it, pulling out a lighter shade (sea salt), and murmurs about how it's more neutral and would give a lot more range for interior design. We're going to completely ignore the way my panties dampened at his soft, direct tone giving me knowledge about this stuff.
Our sketches are nearly done. Okay, his sketches are nearly finished. I was already out by the time Carson came over to visit, so he asked if I wanted to go house shopping to think of our designing plans. Now here we are, picking out different shades of paint for each room. The boys are going to get a nice sea salt green tint to their wall, which would look awesome when the sun hits it through the windows. I clap my hands excitedly, waddling behind the tall, muscular man I call my boyfriend.
He is wearing a red polo shirt that clings to him in the best way, dark washed jeans with black boots peeking from underneath them. They say that a man looks sexier in red. And boy, was Carson proof of that. I whistle behind him, causing him to do a little half twist of his body to look back at me, a teasing smirk on his lips. "Later, Carter," he whispers, then disappears behind the next aisle. I follow after him, to another row full of colored cards of paper.
"Maybe every room should be a shade of green." I peer around his body to see what colors he was looking at. "You want to make a red room?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as his thick fingers sift through the red section. I nudge his body when he smiles. "Don't get me excited."
"I told you before, I don't have that patience."
"A girl can dream," I sigh. The sound of a shopping cart's wheels gave me a jump scare. With a brief turn of my neck, I get a glimpse of a couple with a baby's car seat sitting on top of the cart. Carson wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls me closer to him after feeling me cuddle up to him. We both turn as the sound of the squeaking wheels fade, and see a cute little baby asleep in their seat.
"How the fuck are two of those gonna fit on there?" He grumbles, making me laugh a little too hard. Hell if I know, but we're going to find out soon enough. "Hey, so my dad told me something, and it had me thinking..." The card with the sample shade of exotic red that I held up is plucked out of my hand, and put back in its section. I narrow my eyes at him, who dismisses me. "You remember when me, you, and Ryker were sharing a hotel room?"
I paused, my mock angry mask slipping from my face when I think of that time, and begin to wonder why he's bringing this up. "Yes..." I answer skeptically, peering up at his face. He rubs his thumb across his bottom lip and picks up a dark green and flashes it to me: salamander. I shrug my shoulders.
"For our bedroom." Jesus. Our bedroom. Gave me the shivers. I nod my head enthusiastically, thinking of how the dark green would go well with the black sheets I plan on wrapping the bed in. Or maybe white...? I'm not sure right now. Carson's tanned skin goes well with either color, and thinking of him naked with his lower half wrapped in dark sheets, light sheets is getting me hot. "Anyway, I've been led to believe you have a desire to be...shared," he practically grits out. It sounded as if he had to grab the words and yank them up and out of his throat.
"Where the hell did you get that idea from?" I scrunch up my nose, trying to seem unfazed but I'm feeling exposed. He opens his mouth with an inhale, and I cut him off. "I just want to let you know that I only want a relationship with you. Like this," I flick my index finger back and forth between our two bodies as I look him in his grey, heart-stopping eyes. "I don't want anyone else feeding me strawberries, and giving me bubble baths, and taking me on dates, and impregnating me. I don't."
He smiles. "I know that," he breathes, and tells me to calm down. "And I also know that at the hotel, you were thinking about what it would be like to fuck Ryker and I at the same time." Okay, so maybe I get butterflies in my pussy at the thought, (like right now) but it doesn't mean I want it.
"Where is this coming from?" I ask, appalled, slightly breathy. My emotional state is constantly on the roll.
He holds out his hand for me to take, and guides us into the furniture section. There were many fake setups of living room designs, and plenty of signs that said Please do not sit on furniture. Carson pushes one of those signs off of a black, leather couch and sits me down. He searches around and grabs a nearby stool, sitting on top of the sign that asked nicely if no one would sit on it. What can I say? We're that couple of rule breaking almost-parents.
His eyes nearly slice my heart open, and it brought me back to last month at his parent's house. My eyes widen just when he was about to talk. "Wait wait wait. I'll admit it before you embarrass me. I do think your dad is attractive, but it's only because he looks just like you, obviously. How can I find you hot as heck without finding your dad hot as heck when you basically have the same face?" He purses his lips. "Well of course, his face is aged, but he ages well, and that's good because you're going to age well. I'm rambling. I don't want to have sex with your dad if that's where you're getting. He just called me baby girl, and I shivered, and that was it. It. I love you." He folds his hands across his lap.
"Wow, you're a piece of work."
"And," I continue to try digging myself out of the hole Carson dug and kicked me in. "Yes, I've thought of us three being together, but he has Kennedy, so he's off limits. And I've thought about Hunter, but then we became exclusive and it all went away. It's just a fantasy, I don't need or crave it to happen."
"Good," his lips quirk up a bit. He spreads his legs clearly just to turn me on, and pushes himself up from the chair. "And for the record," he helps me off of the couch, and tugs me to him with more force than necessary so that I bumped into his chest. His nose brushes mine as he bends down. "I'm possessive as fuck over you. Keep that in mind whenever your hormones get out of wack."
"Why does this sound like an invitation to a threesome?" I whisper.
"Is it?" He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glinting underneath the bright, fluorescent lights above us.
MONTH 7.
HIM.
"It was not an invitation," I grunt to Ryker as I lift the side of the couch closer to me. He squats down to get the other side up in the air, and we haul it outside, turning it sideways so it could fit through the door. Raine and Bambi both were half-assedly clapping for us and mumbling words of encouragement.
"You go, baby!" Raine raises her glass of lemonade to me. "Sweat a little more so I have some eye candy."
"Fuck off," I grumble. My sneakers cause the metal ramp of the U-haul to rattle as we climb up into the truck.
"You know you can't tell Hunter that because he'll beg you 'til your hair turns the color of your ugly ass eyes."
Oh don't I know it. With all of the pining he's done after her, I'd have to keep her wild fantasies under wraps. We set the heavy couch toward the back of the truck. The good thing about moving Raine's stuff to our new condo in Texas is that she doesn't have a lot of things. Most of the things we have to carry are her clothes stuffed in too many boxes. Other than that, she has a couch, a chair, a tv, her dresser in her room, her bed, and a side table. Simple. Screams "I'm single." But who am I to judge?
I only have a box of clothes and shoes to take to our place.
What's also good news is that she has a pot, pan, spatula, a couple of spoons and forks and knives. So she cooks something at the very least. We're going to have to do a lot of shopping for our house because damn, we have nothing. It only took an hour to pack all her stuff up in the truck, but with the summer heat, Ryker and I looked like we moved out a family of six.
Oh and the girls didn't move their asses one bit. Ryker leans back against the wall on the inside of the truck, peeling off his shirt to wipe his face and body, soaking up the sweat. "Would you ever consider sharing her?" He asks quietly, ignoring the catcalling from Bambi. I sneak a peak at Raine, whose eyes were dead set on staring at her glass of lemonade, and smirk.
"No," I say crisply, bluntly. I felt my upper lip twitch at the thought. If I was more like my dad, I'd consider it, but I have that desire like my mom to be monogamous, to give all of me to one girl, and I'd expect the same from her. "You know how we were, Ryk. I only shared girls I had no respect for, and we'd talk shit about them after. I couldn't—I can't do that to her; I can't allow the possibility of Hunter being an ass."
Hunter and I were dicks, and everyone knew it. He was the true asshole, and I was the manipulative one. Raine knew this, too, that's why I can't fathom how she still had the thought to...well, she does consider him a friend. Maybe she's just comfortable enough to let it happen. But before he was her friend, he was mine, and as much as I love him, I know how he is. I would never allow that. Not to her. Not to my Raine.
"Yeah that's true." We both look at her as she giggles to whatever the hell her friend was saying to her. Ryker blows out a low breath. "If I would've known this when we first met, I would have happily obliged," he smiles cheekily at me. Of course he would've.
|||
Our condo was about a twenty minute drive from Ryker's, which put me ten minutes away from my job. Absolutely perfect. Our neighbors aren't a wall knock away like at Raine's old place, which was great. The homes were detached, so it just looked like a bunch of houses in a tightly knit HOA. All painted the same baby blue, mailboxes a boring black with white numbering. I would like to blame my mom for this because her main reason for picking this area is that there's a nice playground for the babies when they get older.
Yes mom, because having a nice park is at the very top of my list of baby priorities. Noise-level, privacy, kid-friendly, open concept interior and baby spaces for things like cribs, high chairs, walkers aren't necessary. Parenting 101.1: you need to have a nice park. Noted.
We walk up the five, skillfully-poured cement stairs hand in hand, and stop right at the porch, where a rocking swing gently swayed back in forth. I can already picture the both of us sitting out there like sickly sweet old people, holding the twins and nosily watching our neighbors live life. I hand her the key to the house, and she reaches up on her toes to kiss me on the cheek before inserting the key into the golden lock. It clicks internally, unlocking for us. She twists the doorknob and pushes open the dark blue painted door, gasping when she sees what's on the other side.
"Welcome home!" My mom and her mom both yell when she walks in, simultaneously popping two poppers, little pieces of colorful confetti falling to the clean, off-white carpet. Our home. The beginning of us. I press a kiss to Raine's forehead as we enter in.
MONTH 8.
HER.
"Food, give me food Carson. Why are you hiding the snacks from me?" My voice raises with every word I say. My sweetheart of a boyfriend sends me a death stare that I shoot back twice as scarier, and then he's hurrying over to share his chips with me. "Thank you."
"You're a fucking gremlin."
"No, I'm hungry. There's a difference." No one told me that week 33 was going to be a bitch. Not only, do I look like I'm carrying an overgrown watermelon, there's plenty of jagged lines that look like the rind of the watermelon running up my belly. Oh what's very fun for me—and Carson always seems to get a kick out of this—I officially look like a mom. You know how the women that love pregnancy and adore the idea of bringing teeny weeny humans into this world dress like every week is fashion week? Yeah, no. This has really embraced the baseball-boyish side of me because I've stolen plenty of Carson's athletic shorts and oversized t-shirts because when I want to stretch out because I have a sharp pain running up my spine, I don't want to think about flashing people in a cutesy dress.
Though today is our baby shower, so I've settled (after a screaming match between Carson and I) for yoga pants and a tank top. Maternity shirts get in my way, and make me look like I'm thirty instead of twenty-two, so I've canceled them altogether. Carson thinks I'm being ridiculous, but I just want to feel cute. I had on a boxy shirt with these pants when we first came to the park to decorate, but then I got hot, so it's currently laying on the table meant for gifts.
We should've hired a team to decorate for us. Carson said he could just call Ryker and Kennedy, and they'd do it, but I wanted to do it myself, which really meant I was going to sit on my now flat ass and watch him do it all. I snack on the cheesy, sour cream and cheddar ruffles while cheering Carson on as he blows up a balloon with the word twins on it, filled with blue glitter. I watch as he ties a white ribbons around the balloon, and connects the ribbon to a weight, placing it on top of the table behind me. He then puts his hands on his knees, and settles down beside me. Then, I feel his arm come around my shoulder, and tuck me close. We watch other people's kids run around at the playground a decent distance away.
"I'm tired," He breathes.
"Me too, babe," I grin when he smacks his teeth. He drops his arm from my shoulder, letting it settle around my waist so he can put his hand on my stomach. "This happened so fast."
"I know." He rubs a soft pattern, lightly pressing back when I feel a shuffling within my insides, as if they were trying to get closer to his touch. I wriggle uncomfortably. "But I like this. Of course I didn't imagine having a pregnant girlfriend this soon, or even you as that pregnant girlfriend, but I think I needed it."
"Why?" I rest my head on his shoulder, lifting for a second to kiss him there, and then laying back down.
"I didn't know what I was going to do after college," he lifts his hand that was on my stomach in the form of a shrug. "I mean I was staying with Ryker. I had a job, but no actual plans for life, but then we got back together and when I found out you were pregnant, it kinda fell into place for me. I have to be a stable man for you, and now the kids...I'm not lost anymore."
"You're so sweet to me sometimes." I kiss his stubbled jaw. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
"Kiss me?" I grin against his jaw. He trails his hand up my back to grip my long ponytail (perk of my pregnancy: hair growth, really loving it) and plants his lips on mine. I whimper against his lips, wanting more but sadly, can't have it. The awkwardness of sex with my watermelon in the way is just a turn off, so it's off the table right now. Okay, let me rephrase. We've tried about two weeks or so ago, and one, his hips kept tapping my belly. Two: me on my knees kills my back. Three: we laugh like idiots when we're in missionary now because we're both just staring at my stomach in a fascination because it moves with his thrusts, so we decided to just wait it out.
Kissing is still great, however.
"Excuse me, this is a children's park. Tonguing is not allowed, CeeCee." Kennedy's voice halts our little make out session. Carson reluctantly pulls away from me, and places a parting kiss on my nose, to which I frown.
"Hi Ken," he greets flatly, though when I turn around she takes a couple of steps backward, seeking Ryker's protection.
"You are so scary carrying babies, it's not even funny," she admits.
"Hey, Raine," Ryker waves almost cautiously, nervously, and glances to Carson. It was then that I felt a blush on my cheeks because I knew that they had talked. I flip Carson off, causing his cheeks to redden as well. Can't trust a man with anything. "Congrats."
"We brought gifts," Kennedy grunts, dropping a gigantic bag onto the table next to us. "Mostly diapers." Her arm disappears when she searches through the bag—it was that big. A bottle of Pink Whitney is revealed to us. "I think they're girls because twin girls rule." And just as she says that, her twin and her boyfriend appear. Korinne was actually holding her bottle of pink vodka in her hand, a huge bag in the other.
"Ooh," she smiles widely when she sees her twin, and kisses her on the cheek. "Great minds think alike. Congrats, Love. Team girl!" She settles the alcohol and bag on the table. She and her boyfriend both squish me in a hug, which made Kennedy and Ryker want to give me a hug as well. So the four of them awkwardly pressed against my stomach and sides, showing me love.
It wasn't too far long after that our baseball team from last year showed up, along with Carson's parents and brother, my parents and brothers, Bambi and her roommates came along, everyone bringing entirely too many gifts for me to handle.
The baby shower went like any other informal baby shower would go, except maybe there was more alcohol that necessary. We played games like cup pong and flip cup. Someone brought beanbag toss, so we played that, and I have to say I got a little competitive and turned the heads of adults when some profanities slipped.
While we ate cake, I made everyone write down baby names on little pieces of paper, and fold them up so that they could be drawn at the end of the shower. I had no intention on settling for a name one of them wrote, but they actually turned out pretty good as I pulled them out.
Some sets were Carson & Carson. Clearly that was Carson, who thought he was so funny.
Carson and Clara. Cute, but they're both boys (not that everyone knew already).
Korinne & Kennedy. No.
Caleb and Calvin. Mmm...
Claire & Clarissa. I'm not sure why everyone hopped on the C train in the beginning, but we did have some people that dared to be different.
Amber & Arly
Dean and Danica. Clearly that was my self absorbed oldest brother.
Heath and Harley. Badass. Very badass. But no.
Storm and Raine. Zero points for creativity. Ryker, I know that's you.
Raine and River. Bonus points for you, but they're both boys.
So like I said I didn't intend on making any of these my children's actual names, but then I stumbled across another two C train pairings that were actually pretty damn cute.
Carson and Carter. I'm digging it, I'm digging it. I see what you did there. Sounds like something Vinny and Isaiah would come up with.
Colton and Cayden. Pretty cute.
"We will announce the winners when I go through labor," I announced, holding the balloon that Carson blew up. "But I'll give you guys something to leave with. This—" okay, so let me run you through how this was supposed to go. I was supposed to tease the audience, keep them on their toes and point to the big, gender revealing balloon with the needle, but I swear pregnancy has ruined my coordination. It was supposed to be a cute little 'uh oh, I almost showed you guys'. But well, the needle met the tight flesh of the balloon and exploded into blue glitter, which caused the entire park to become an uproar of excitement.
My eyes watered a little bit at the sudden surprise, but everyone quickly engulfed me into hugs, and it made it all better.
MONTH 9.
HIM.
I'd like to say that Raine, despite her steady flow of tears, has been good to me while pregnant. Month four, five, and six have been her gushing over me, and our newly declared, requited love. Month seven and eight were us moving into our temporary place so she wasn't worried much about anything. I kept her sitting and sipping whatever she wanted. There was always a fresh bowl of strawberries near. She was fine. We were fine.
This month, however, as we counted down the days, she's being a pain in the ass. I've given countless of massages. Countless. At the most random times. She'll sort of flop over in bed and bug me until I woke and demand my hands on her, kneading her shoulders, rubbing her neck, her hips, her legs, her feet. And I love tending to her, and I know I'm forever indebted to her with all the crap I gave her in college. She deserves it all, but fuck, a thank you would be amazing.
Her bitchiness is through the roof.
God I love her.
"Carson, the one on the bottom shelf. No, not that one. If it was in the middle, I would've gotten it." I reach for the pads on the bottom shelf, and she stomps her foot. I arch an eyebrow, but not at her. It was more of an internal acknowledgment of her little foot that I was thinking about stepping on. The foot that I just took her to the salon to get pampered. "Carson—"
"Raine, I'm this close," I hold up my left hand in the direction of where she was standing behind me, pinching the air to show her the patience that was thinning out. "I'm so close." I'm so close to losing my fucking mind. I grab the right box, I assume because of her silence, but when I get up from my crouched position and turn to her, she was wiping her eyes, leaning against the shopping cart. The motherfucking everlasting tears. I swear I see this about four times a day. And I work for most of it. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry," she shakes her head as if she's just as annoyed by her tears. "I'm being a bitch."
"Yeah, you are." She cuts me a mean glare, but couldn't help the smile trying to form on her lips. "It's okay, babe. I get it. Just cut me some slack, alright?" She nods her head, and places her head down onto the rail of the cart, grunting. "Contractions?"
"Mhm," she squeaks. "How long was that?" She asks after a moment of slow breathing and counting. I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time.
"About seven minutes. You?"
"Twenty three seconds."
"Nope."
"Fuck," she sighs. "Stubborn children," she pokes at her belly, talking to the boys. "Get out of me now."
"Stop rushing them before they hold out on you until tomorrow."
That didn't make her happy. She lifts her head up, and points to the pads that I was supposed to get. I trade out the ones I had for the right ones. "Thanks."
"Good girl. Someone's found her manners again," I smirk. She lets her head drop back and moans out exaggeratedly. No one in the store looks at her either because they assume that her, with a hand on her stomach, the other on the cart, she's just going through pain.
"Say it again," she smiles, her mind completely off of the cramps.
"Thank me again first," I drop the box into the cart and stand right next to her, leaning over slightly to give us some privacy.
"Thank you, Carson." A breathy plea.
"Good fucking girl," I indulge her, loving how her eyes close when she shivers. I kiss her forehead, and wipe her tears away. "Come on, we'll get you some spicy chips, try and force 'em out of you."
"I need a second to recover," she chuckles. We're in Mission: Get Her to Pop. So far, we've gone on walks, and tried to give her a bath, but it happened to be at a miraculous time where her mom called and started screaming excitedly because she was going to end up having babies in the tub if we let her sit there longer. Raine wasn't having that, so she got out (naked ass out and all) as if she was going to get struck down.
So that didn't work. We're back to square one. At this point, we've been shopping for about an hour, getting things ready for her when she's admitted into the hospital. My mom sent a list of things she'll need for aftercare, so we've been getting those items while counting her contractions to determine when we'll get admitted.
We have to get down to contractions every five minutes, lasting for a minute each for an hour. The golden 5-1-1 rule. So far we're at 7-30 seconds-1 hour. Close, but not enough to settle her nerves and get her in a gown. It's a tough waiting game. "My pussy throbs," she murmurs while picking out a bag of munchies spicy mix. I snort, taking the bag from her hand and tossing it into the cart. "Stop, it's not funny. I'm in pain."
"I'm sorry?" She whips around, and frowns.
"I'm so not having anymore kids with you."
"Ditto."
"Ugh," she tries to stomp down the aisle, her cute body wobbling back and forth to keep upright. I bite my lip. Fucking adorable she is right now. She's gained a lot of weight over the months, but I think it suits her. She hates how different she looks. She complains that her breasts are too big now, so her back hurts, and her legs are always swollen and thick now, but I've enjoyed watching it all change. The whole process is completely fascinating. Women are wild things. She turns around, her curly, much longer hair swinging across her shoulder. She huffs tiredly when she realizes I hadn't been walking behind her, too busy admiring her. "Let's go, daddy. We have babies to force out."
"Yes ma'am," I salute her, catching up.
After a little more walking around the store, there were another couple 7-30seconds-1 hour occurring. Convinced that we weren't going to cut down in time today, we called it. She snacked on the munchies as I drove us home, and shared some with me. We debated whether heavy metal music would scare the boys out of her. While she thought it would be a solid attempt, I thought it would be murder of their poor, innocent ears, and talked her out of it.
Clearly, I'm going to be the parent that thinks rationally. Maybe it's because I'm the most sober of us two on any given day.
In order to get to the condo, we had to walk a little bit. The neighbors were throwing a part, and had people parking along the street. They all gave Raine that fake ass smile people give to pregnant women as we passed them. A smile that's like 'congratulations' but behind the smile is the 'glad that's not me' kind of thinking. She was too busy breathing and counting through her contraction anyway, gripping my arm in a death lock to help channel the pain. I feel that she's trying to transfer the contraction to me sometimes, the way she digs her acrylics into me. "Time," she croaks in a high pitch, pressing her forehead to my bicep, trying so hard to keep from being loud in front of them.
I check my phone. "Still at 7, Sweetheart."
"Grrr." That was a loud, frustrated groan that had our company staring at us. "I. Just. Wanna. Have. These—oh shit." My cheeks flamed when I heard a gush of liquid hit the concrete, immediately followed by horrid gasps from everyone else that was outside, having a good time at the party. I look down into her greenish eyes and she was blushing just as hard as I was. "It's not pee—"
"—Do you need me to call an ambulance?"
"—Are you okay?" Two concerned women was rushing over to her as if I wasn't her damn man and couldn't handle her myself.
"I'm fine—ahhh shit!" She cries out, digging her nails into my skin again. "Okay. Okay those last ones hurt but this hurts."
"Do you need help?" A lady asks again.
"My boyfriend's got me. Thanks. Boyfriend, get me," she pants, leaning against me as her body puts her through whatever it is it's putting her through. I hold her closely, and ask if she needs me to carry her, but she insisted on walking all the way back to the car. "I'm strong," she tells herself.
Yeah but she kept leaking all down the sidewalk, so I'm sure the block is going to be real excited about that later on tonight.
We made it to the car door where she leaned against it, muttering profanities through clenched teeth. "Time, what's the freaking time?"
My phone tells me six minutes. "How?" She yells. "They better take me or I'm pushing on the hospital tile floor."
"Please don't."
"Carson," she growls. I open the door for her, and she hastily gets in. There goes my seat. Bound to be stained with amniotic fluid. Jesus, please let the hospital take her.
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"Help me!" Oh she was hollering now. We got admitted into the hospital because she was starting to dilate, but it wasn't fast enough. We had to wait around for hours, cuddled together on that uncomfortable, small bed because she wanted me right by her side. Around 4 in the afternoon the next day, she didn't want me cuddle next to her because she was suffering. Sweat was beading on her forehead, and she kept moaning in pain until it was too much to swallow back.
Switching her leg positions, moving her head, cradling her stomach, grasping the safety rails on the bed, my poor Raine was a damn mess, and I couldn't do anything about it. "Baby, it's going to be o—"
"Shut your mouth!" She points to me, and then slams her eyes tightly shut as another wave overcame her. "Don't tell me it's going to be okay while you're over there dressed all fucking cute and—" her voice cracks with the contraction lasting a hell of a lot longer than our twenty, and thirty second counts yesterday. "Just...just shut up and stay quiet." I didn't have the heart to tell her that they were both the same thing, not when her hair was sticking to her face, and her knuckles were turning lighter from gripping so hard.
The nurses let her wail on and on until she was closer to the dilation she should've been at. "Would you like the epidural, Hun?" Her nurse asked, and received the same attitude I was getting.
"How do you think I'm going to be still enough to let you punch a hole in my back?" I wince. "Where's the doctor? Get them out! Help me. Help. Please."
Both Raine's and my mom try and break into the room, and were promptly escorted out. "Just help the poor, sweet girl out, please. It's her first pregnancy..." Karlo tries to talk to the nurse as they walk out together.
"Can I hold your hand?" She whimpers to me when her contraction settles, limply reaching out to me. My heart pretty much melted. I cross the short distance between us, and take her hand, pressing a kiss to it before leaning over and kissing her damp, tear-stained lips. "I'm scared."
"You're doing great, I promise. Don't be scared. I'm right here," I gently squeeze her hand. "It'll be all over soon, and we're done with pregnancies."
"You promise?" She whispers, looking at me with those teary eyes, so full of pain and fear.
"I—"
"—Alright, Ms. Carter," I blanch at the last name. "Let's have some twins, huh?" A man. That's who's delivering our kids? A man. Touching my kids before me. They better not think he's the dad. A nurse tries to get me to back away, but I wasn't budging and Raine surely wasn't letting go of my hand. "How are you feeling?"
"Dumb question, Doc," she groans, another one coming on. She digs her nails into my hand. I grunt, feeling the heat of my blood bubbling to the surface.
"I'm so sorry," he chuckles. "Okay so we're going to wait for this next contraction and then we're going to push, okay? I see you're dilated enough now." Oh of course he has the OK to stare between her legs and determine what's spread enough. Doctors. I scoff. He briefly glances at me, warily. That's right. Be scared. Handle my wife and boys with care.
Woah.
It was time. She was handling it like a champ, except when he counted for her, she locked her eyes onto mine as if she were reminding me that I was responsible for this. And she pushed, and screamed, her eyes wide open, fearfully open. So open and scared her pupils were dilated. Her eyes were cussing me out, while mine were apologizing, though I was so excited. Sad that she had to go through so much pain, having a natural birth with twins, but so excited that the twins were ours.
Baby number one popped out, and she nearly seized when remembered she was carrying two. We waited a while. Almost ten minutes for the other to come, and when she was finished, she nearly passed out. Her eyes were unfocused when I pressed kisses to her face, kissing up her tears. She full on cried after it was all over, and it broke my heart.
Oh, but then my heart was stuttering when a bundle of fabric was put in my arms. A cute little blue hat resting halfway on his head. He was light as a feather, this doll-like, miniature human being, crying so softly. His fists were moving so slow with his cries. I was stunned. The crying ceased when I brushed my lips across his unbelievably soft forehead and softly said hi. "Remember me from tummy time?" Oh fuck, this is the most adorable thing in the world. "I'm Daddy. Mommy's got your brother, look at her." I turn, even though he couldn't see with his eyes closed.
Raine was holding the other, her eyes red still from crying so hard, but quietly so he wouldn't cry again. "Carson they're so cute," she breathes, relaxing back into the bed. Her body calming down.
"Mommy's so fucking strong."
"Language, Carson. They aren't even ten minutes old."
"Mom, are you ready for visitors?" The nurse asks Raine, who nods her head, not saying anything because she was transfixed by the little bundle in her arms, laying atop her chest.
"Ohhh, the babies. My grand babies!" Karlo gushes.
"Our grand babies," Ryelle corrects with a wide smile on her face. "Oh Rainy, I'm so proud of you."
"Thanks mom," she mumbles, her eyes never leaving the baby. "Carson, we're parents."
"I know, baby. Crazy, huh?" I ask, still watching the baby in my arms. Never wanting to look away. "You wanna switch?"
"Yes, give me Colton." We didn't even decide on baby names, but I guess she just did. We switch off, and I pick up who I'm assuming is Cayden, wearing a black hat inside of a blue one. They had the same face. Same cute, little nose, and round, fat cheeks. Pin straight, brown hair was peeking out from under the hat. He yawns, in my arms, and my eyes water. Happiest fucking day of my life. I kiss his nose gently.
"Raine, you're the best."
"I know I am."
I kiss her, but briefly because I wanted to keep watching Cayden and Colton do normal baby things like yawn and punch the air. "I love you so much."
"Carson, I love you so much more."
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