chapter playlist ⏯
• mine right now - sigrid
• like someone in love - bruno major
• you and i - michael bublé
———
about a month later
gemma clark <<<
"Oh my God, you're pregnant."
I looked at Edith as she got up from her couch to get a drink of water. I wonder how that feels, to be so...undeniably pregnant. I mean, she's huge. There's a real-life, fully-functioning human being inside of her. That's insane.
"T-minus sixteen days," she said, taking a sip before going back to the couch. "I just want to get him or her out. I'm going to be pissed if I go past my due date."
I chuckled. "It's not easy, huh?"
She shook her head. "It's so not easy. But, I think it's a small price to pay for the greatest gift in the world, or whatever they call being a parent."
"Agreed. It'll all be worth it," I said with a smile. "What do you think it's gonna be? Boy or girl?"
She smiled. "My gut is saying it's a boy. I don't really care, though. I mean, having a little girl to dress up and take shopping would be a dream, but in the grand scheme of things, I think boys are a lot easier to deal with. I'm just thinking about break-ups and mean girls and all the things I've felt in my years as a girl. Not that boys have it easy, but...easier, I think."
"That's true. But I think you're meant to have a daughter. At least one," I told her, thinking of all the things she's done for me as a fellow girl. She's a pro at handling break-ups and giving advice and dealing with mean people. She'd be a great mother to a girl.
"Well, if we don't get one this time, we'll just keep trying till we do," she said with a smile, making me laugh a bit.
"How many do you think you'll have?" I asked.
She sighed. "I don't know. Brad and I hadn't even really decided when we found out I was pregnant. At least one, I guess," she said with a smile. "We were thinking somewhere in the three to four to five range."
"Five?" I asked incredulously. "Wow. I mean, good for you, but...really?"
All I could think about was giving birth five times, all the sleepless nights, the countless diapers, the teenage years, teaching five kids to drive, high school five times...the list goes on and on. I mean, I know it'd be fulfilling in the end, but jeez, that's a lot.
"Well, not five for sure," she replied. "I guess we'll see how it goes with the first one. But I'm not opposed to five. We've both always wanted a big family. You don't?"
I mean, I never had a big family. I liked my small family, but maybe the more family, the better? I don't know. I'd never given much thought to it; I always felt like it was the kind of thing that would just feel right when you got there. Plus, it depends on what the person you're with thinks. I don't think Shawn and I have ever discussed kids. It's always seemed too early in our relationship, but I wonder what he thinks. If he said he wanted five kids, I don't even know what I would say. I guess I'm not exactly opposed to it; I think I would decide after I had the first one. Maybe it's not that bad and I could handle it four more times. Plus, you have to be an expert on kids after having a couple, right?
"I don't know. Maybe. That just seems like a lot to handle," I said in reply.
"It definitely would be, but I'm up for a challenge," she said with a smile and shrug. In my head, a challenge is like, running a 5K. Or learning to speak German. Having five kids is way more than a challenge.
"What does your lover think?" she asked.
I shrugged. "We've never talked about it."
She looked at me like that was a crime. "You've never talked about it?"
"We haven't been dating that long," I said defensively, crossing my arms. "I don't want to scare him away."
"As if that's even possible. You guys were talking about getting married before you ever started dating," she said, which was true. Still. I worry. "What if one of you didn't even want kids and the other didn't know it?"
"I think if I really loved him, I would be willing to work through that," I replied, shrugging. "But I'm almost positive that he wants kids. He's never said so explicitly and I've never asked explicitly but we've both said things in passing about having kids, and it's something neither of us have ever questioned. I just figured he did, I guess, because I've seen how he interacts with kids and even my brother; he's good at it and it's always seemed really natural. I guess I should bring it up, because how can I know for sure? I just feel like he's meant to be a dad. He'd be a great one. Not now. But one day."
She smiled. "He totally would be great. Could you see yourself having a kid with him?"
Of course.
I nodded. "Of course I could. I mean, I don't want to for a very long time, but one day, totally."
I never, ever saw myself having a kid with Jake. I could never imagine him being a dad. Not that he'd be a bad one or anything; I guess I just never saw him that way. Like...nurturing. He and my brother always got along well, but my middle school brother is very different from a newborn baby. I wonder if he's going to have any kids. He always said he wanted them when we were together, but maybe he's changed his mind. Could you imagine that curly mop of hair on a little boy? I mean, don't get me wrong—Jake sucks—but that'd be pretty cute.
But I could totally see myself having a kid with Shawn. I wonder if he can see himself having a kid with me. I hope so.
"You guys are so cute," she said, shaking her head. "Young love is so beautiful."
I laughed a little. "I guess so. I just hope he feels it like I do."
"How do you feel it?"
I took a moment to think. How do I feel my love for him? That's an impossible question to answer. There's a million ways.
"I feel it a lot. He just feels like home. He makes me feel like I belong, and like I'm not worthless, which is something I've pretty much never felt. That's something that means so much to me, and I don't even think he knows the half of how much it means to me. And I've tried to write poetry and notes to describe to him how I feel it, because it's not like I could put it into words from my mouth; but I don't think they ever do it justice. How I feel for him could never be so simply put onto paper."
"Believe me, Gem; he feels it," she told me. "It's so obvious that he's in love with you. Just like it's so obvious that you're in love with him. You guys are pretty much perfect for each other. Besides, if anyone even tried to write me poetry, I would know they cared about me. You don't just write poetry for anyone. Believe me, he knows how you feel."
"You know, that's actually true," I said. "I wrote Jake one poem and then never another."
"Why?"
I gave her a look. "Take a guess."
She thought for a second. "What is "he thought it was nerdy?""
"Ding ding ding!"
"Seriously? Oh my God, who does he think he is? You should've broken up with him in that moment," she said, offended on my behalf. I laughed a little.
"Well, he wasn't that mean about it," I said. "He just said he doesn't understand poetry and that he's too dumb for it, so I just shouldn't waste my time. He said we could never bond over my nerdy habits, like reading and writing."
Edith shook her head, leaning back against her couch. "He's literally the worst," she remarked. "Do you even know what he's been up to these days?"
I shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. I don't really ever think about him."
She nodded, leaning back and smiling. "I like that."
"Probably just sleeping around and getting drunk. The same things he did while we were dating," I said. Sometimes me dating him doesn't even feel like it was my life.
Edith gave me an almost sympathetic smile. "Thank God you got out of that."
"Thank God is right," I replied. That's a rut I'm very thankful to not be stuck in anymore.
I looked at the time, then groaned. "I have to go to work," I said. My head started pounding just at the mention of work. "I'm sorry. We'll continue this soon."
She smiled. "Don't apologize. You're so ambitious; I'm just glad I even fit in your schedule anymore. Have fun."
I laughed a little. "You'll always fit into my schedule, E," I told her. "See ya later."
"Bye, Gemma," she replied.
I left and hurried to my car, not wanting to face my boss' wrath for being even a second late. I got a text as I started the car.
shawn
come over tonight? after work?
me
you finally have time for me now?
He's been busy for the past couple weeks, you know, being a superstar; of course, we barely let that hinder our relationship. However, spending time with him alone and in person is the best. Texts and FaceTimes and meeting for coffee during the thirty minutes we each have free just doesn't cut it sometimes.
shawn
i do. all night. i'm all yours
shawn
are you down???
me
i'm totally down. i have to drive so can we continue this conversation in like, 7 minutes?
shawn
actually i've got to go...but i'll see you tonight and it's going to be incredible.
shawn
i'll try to subtly text you as much as possible until then but no promises on consistency
me
ditto. love you
shawn
love you toooo
———
later that night
~after work~
I knocked on the door, waiting to hear his quick footsteps approaching the door. I did, and he opened it, grinning at me when I could see his face.
"Hey, love," Shawn said, wrapping an arm around me. I closed the door behind me, leaning into his chest. Comforting.
"Tired?" he asked, probably because I didn't even have the energy to say hello back.
I nodded. "Work was brutal. And so was school," I said. I heard how dejected I sounded in my voice. "I just want to relax, for like, ten minutes."
He smiled a bit and kissed the top of my head. "Well, I don't have any plans. You can relax all you want."
Count me in.
"What have you been doing?" I asked him, raising my eyebrow. I just now noticed that the kitchen looked like it was actually in use, which could not be true, because I don't think I've ever seen more than a bowl of cereal be prepared in here. But I blinked twice and the scene was still there. Is he cooking? This is too much for me to handle.
"Well, I've been trying to cook dinner for us," he said, looking at the small mess he's made. "Like you did a few weeks ago. You know, because I figured you'd be all tired and I don't know...I just wanted to do something. Jury's still out on how it will end up, but I'm trying."
I smiled. "I love you. You didn't have to do all this, though...not for me."
"Who else would I do it for?" he asked with a grin. "Besides, I want to do it. One day, when we're married, we're going to have to eat, and I intend on picking up your slack in the kitchen. Practice makes perfect, right?"
I chuckled. "Of course."
When we're married...
When. Not if. When.
That's so insane. He pretty much just said that he wants to/is planning on marrying me. Like...how? How did we get here? How did it all happen so fast? Since when did I become so chill with marriage being thrown around? Since when do I feel secure in the fact that I'm going to marry him? It's way too soon to feel these sort of things. But suddenly, I feel like it's not too soon to talk about having kids.
"You should just lay down or something. You look like you're about to fall over," he said, giving me a small smile.
"It's okay. I'll stay here with you and help," I told him, then I yawned, which wasn't helping my case.
"Come on, Gem. Just take a power nap. This is probably going to take me a while longer, and I don't think you'll be that much help, anyway. No offense," he told me.
"Rude," I said, not having the energy to come up with a comeback. A power nap sounds beautiful. "I still feel bad."
"Oh my God, Gemma. You're so annoying. Take the nap and let me work in peace," he said, which was slightly offensive but mostly funny.
I sighed. "I mean, I guess. Since you want me gone so badly."
He rolled his eyes. "Yup; that's what it is. You got me. I hate you. Always have."
I laughed a little. "I knew it," I said. "Hey, if dinner gets too complicated, feel free to ditch the whole thing and join me."
He smiled, shaking his head. "That's very tempting. Don't put such ideas into my head. It's going to take so much for me to not quit this whole endeavor right now."
"Either way—I'm thrilled."
"You're telling me I could have just offered to take a nap with you and not have gone through all this trouble and you would be just as happy?"
I nodded. "I'd be happy watching paint dry, as long as I'm with you."
He laughed a little. "Well, I'll keep that in mind next time. But I'm committed now, so I've got to keep pushing through."
He's so cute.
"You're my hero," I said, kissing his cheek. He chuckled.
I looked at him a little harder. I look at him all the time, but I really don't appreciate how jaw-droppingly attractive he is nearly enough. Holy shit, he's hot. Of course he was hot before, but ever since we started dating, he's like, the hottest person on earth to ever live in the entire existence of the universe. A few months ago, you may have been able to convince me that there was a guy out there who was conventionally more attractive, but there's just no way. No freaking way.
"Also, may I just say—"
"You may not. I know exactly what you're going to say," he said, cutting me off.
"How would you know?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Because you've been staring at me for like, a minute straight."
"Heaven forbid a girl stares at her incredibly attractive boyfriend."
He smiled a bit, his face reddening just a bit. "Shut up. Go take a nap."
I smiled satisfactorily, then decided to take him up on his offer, walking to his bedroom and making myself comfortable in his bed. Not hard to do. I love sleeping.
I'm not one to have trouble falling asleep (usually), but it's hard to fall asleep when your boyfriend is wide awake in the kitchen, probably catching things on fire or something. It's weird, because I know I'm exhausted, but my body won't just let me succumb to my fatigue when I'm trying to hard.
After about ten minutes, I think I drifted off into a light slumber. I woke up, after I don't know how long, to fingers combing through my hair and a soft voice.
"Get up, Gemma. I'm saying this in a calm voice only because I don't want to scare you or something. But honestly, I really need you to get the hell up, because the food's getting cold."
I opened my eyes and sure enough, he was standing over me. He smiled when I looked at him. "Hey, loser. Dinner's ready."
I yawned and didn't move. "Can't you just lay with me?"
"The food will get cold," he said, furrowing his eyebrows.
"And that's why microwaves were invented," I told him. "For this very purpose."
He smiled, then shook his head. "Come on."
I reluctantly got up and stretched my arms over my head. "Fine. Because you worked hard and I love you."
"Well, I did work hard—thank you for acknowledging that—and I love you, too. Can we just eat the food now?"
I nodded, and he pulled me up, holding my hand until we got to the table. There's no actual place to eat meals in my apartment, just a couple barstools at the countertop, so eating at a real, dinner table always feels special. It feels like when I was a kid. After Mom died, we usually ate in the living room so we could all tune in to a basketball game or some sort of game show; my dad was all for it, unlike my mom would've been. That was fun. But the dinner table has its own memories.
"You're adorable," I said, not being able not to grin while he set the table around us.
"Are you joking?"
I shook my head. "Not at all. You look so cute doing all this stuff."
He gave me a look. "Gem, you're weird. No grown person looks adorable while setting the table."
"I suppose you're the exception to the rule." I said. He rolled his eyes.
"Let's just eat," he said, sitting down across from me. "Look. I did it. I cooked my girlfriend's favorite meal."
Chicken alfredo. My absolute favorite.
"The salad's from the store, actually," he admitted. "All I did was put the dressing on. I'm not going to pretend I made that."
I laughed a little. "I appreciate your honesty. It all looks amazing."
We ate and talked about random stuff because we've already talked about everything in the world.
"Why is this your favorite food?" he asked in between bites. "Like, I'm not going to judge, but what is so special about this?
I looked down at my plate. I mean, it's nothing spectacular; I know that there are way better foods out there.
"There's nothing inherently special about it," I said. "There's nothing inherently special about anything; you have to make it special. I guess this is like that. My mom really enjoyed it, so my family ate it a decent amount of times. It's just a notable dish of my childhood, I guess. Reminds me of family time."
He didn't say anything and suddenly I felt stupid.
"That's so lame and stupid; believe me, I know I'm pathetic," I quickly said, wishing he had never asked.
"It's not lame and definitely not stupid," he replied. "Apologizing for how you feel is lame and stupid."
I guess so.
"I think that's sweet," he said. "I mean, it's nice to have a real meaning behind your favorite meal. It's kinda cute."
I rolled my eyes. "You're just saying that."
He shook his head. "Am not."
I didn't push.
"Where did you learn to cook so well?" I asked. I had been eating this whole time and hadn't even taken in the fact that he made this. I wouldn't even know where to begin.
He smiled and shrugged. "Natural talent, I suppose."
"Is there anything he cannot do?" I asked dreamily, as if someone was going to answer me.
"For you, I'll find a way to make it happen."
"Anything?"
"I mean, within reason. I can't...build a time machine, but I can make chicken alfredo."
I laughed. "This is way better than time travel, anyway."
He smiled. "If I could time travel, I'd go back and tell you how I felt about you way sooner."
I shrugged. "I wouldn't. I'd keep everything the same."
"You'd keep Jake cheating on you?"
Ah, memories.
"Why not? You and I wouldn't have ever happened if it wasn't for Jake cheating on me. Everything happens for a reason, you know," I told him.
He smiled a bit. "I guess so. Still sucks."
"Yeah. It did suck," I agreed. "But, you kept me out of the slump I could have fallen into. If I didn't have you, that whole situation would have been very, very different. Much worse."
"But you had me."
"But I had you," I said with a smile. "And I'm the luckiest girl in the world."
He rolled his eyes. "You say the cringiest things sometimes."
"Says you."
He shook his head, and we finished eating. We cleaned up together, which is sometimes the most fun part to me. It sounds so nerdy, I know. But I sort of just like working together, even if it's something small. I like joking around and making it fun. I don't know.
"Thank you for dinner," I said once we were done, wrapping my arms around his neck. "You're the best."
"You're welcome," he replied with a smile. "But I actually have something to give you. An early birthday present."
"Shawn," I groaned disappointedly, dragging out his name. "I told you not to get me anything. Because I already have everything I could ever want. Remember that speech?"
"Yes, of course I remember that speech. However, this is nothing huge and it's something that I really think you'll like," he told me. "Please don't fight me on this."
I hate giving gifts and getting gifts. There's so much pressure, and for me, there truly is nothing I want. I mean, there are things I want, just like any other human, but I don't need them, by any means. And I certainly don't want him or anyone else to stress over what to get me for my birthday, like I stress for them, because I really don't need anything. We both agreed before his birthday that we weren't going to get each other anything for each other's birthdays. I, of course, decided to write a book of poetry and little messages for him (totally cringey, I know—but it's my only talent) because that's not anything material and I thought it'd be nice for him to have a reminder of how I feel about him at all times. He said I broke the rule, but I said that homemade gifts are different. So I guess maybe I broke the rule first, but I don't care.
I sat on the couch and he brought over a small-ish box. I shook my head.
"It's not even my birthday yet," I pointed out.
"This is too important to wait," he replied, handing it to me. It was very light. I had no idea at all what could be in it.
"Open it," he told me. He was smiling. I was nervous.
So I did, slowly lifting the top off the box. Inside were two pieces of paper. I looked at them more closely. They looked like plane tickets. I picked them up to examine them. The first was for the day before my birthday, to Omaha, Nebraska. The second was for a few days later, back to Los Angeles. Both had my name on them.
It took me a moment of thinking to figure out what this meant.
He's sending me back home for my birthday. To my dad and Liam.
I looked back up at him, not even sure what to say.
———
shawn mendes >>>
"Please tell me you're joking," she said, looking up at me. I felt my smile fall and immediately started worrying.
"Why? You don't like it?" I asked. Goddamnit. I was sure that she would want this. Maybe I read everything wrong.
But then she laughed. Mixed signals galore.
"Of course I like it. I love it. But...I can't take this. I really can't, it's too much, and—"
Such a Gemma response. As if buying plane tickets to freaking Omaha, Nebraska drove me to bankruptcy.
"Gem," I said, putting my hands on her shoulders. "It's not even a big deal, at all. You should spend your birthday with your dad and your brother; it'd be selfish of me to keep you here. Besides, that's why I did this tonight. You can have a birthday with me and a birthday with your family, right?"
She nodded, and I couldn't read her emotions. She still seemed kind of sad, but she smiled at me like she was the happiest girl in the world.
She wrapped her arms around me, and I did the same to her. We sat there in each other's embrace for a couple moments; she was holding me tightly, which reassured me.
"Thank you, Shawn," she said softly, still holding onto me. I physically felt it my body, the love I feel for her, when she said that. So simple, but it just made me feel good.
"You're welcome. You deserve it," I told her. "Seriously. You haven't seen your dad in forever, and I think it's really going to mean a lot to him that you are celebrating your birthday with him. I mean, the guy is fifty-percent the reason you exist."
She pulled away from me and laughed a little. "I know; he really will. Wait, did you talk to him about it?"
I nodded. And it was stressful, and your dad is intimidating, and I'm scared he hates me.
Well, he was actually really nice, but I am still worried. He said he hasn't celebrated Gemma's birthday with her since she lived in Nebraska. He also said he really appreciated what I was doing for her. I don't know if he meant specifically about this birthday gift, or in life generally, but I replied appropriately. It's an honor to make her happy.
"I can't believe you," she said, shaking her head. "I tell you not to get me anything and you do this."
"This doesn't even count as a gift. I didn't get you anything else, just like you said. But I had to do this," I told her. "Besides, I wasn't going to just get you nothing at all."
"I know. I love that you thought of this, and I appreciate it so much. I just...I hate the pressure of giving gifts and I don't want you to feel it because of my birthday or whatever, because I truly have everything I could ever want," she said, and I knew she was so genuine. She's always genuine; it's sweet. "Plus, this makes the book of poems I wrote for you look like trash."
I smiled. "Are you kidding? I still read those. They were crazy good and thoughtful, not to mention super creative and original. This is not creative, nor original."
She smiled weakly. "You're just saying that. I'm a total nerd. Now it's just going to become a game of one-upping each other."
"Next year, we'll get each other nothing at all. Promise. But this just felt right. Plus, you wrote me the poems, so I had to come up big."
She shook her head while still smiling. She looked at the ground, and then back up at me. "You are pretty much the best thing that's ever happened to me."
I rolled my eyes. "You are a total nerd."
She laughed. "I'm not even joking."
I smiled, looking at her intently. The dim light on her was perfection.
"I totally love you," she told me, leaning forward a bit. Made it easier for me to look at her eyes. Completely mesmerizing.
"Right back at ya, Clark," I replied, and she laughed a little, then leaned even further to kiss me. I tasted the wine we drank at dinner on her lips; kissing her truly legitimately is intoxicating.
When it was too late for either of us to justify staying up, she and I headed off to bed. We've slept apart almost every day for the past week, which is longer than usual, just because of our conflicting schedules. Having her next to me is so much better. Not because I physically need her there or because she makes some kind of difference in how I sleep, but because I just like the fact that she's here with me, and that she's safe and sound. Knowing for sure that she's okay means more to me than I thought it would. I just sleep a little better with her here.
"Thank you," she said when we were settled in. Here it comes. The "I love you, you've changed my life, you mean the world to me" end-of-the-night speech. This is precisely why she's a good poet—she's emotional and needs to express those emotions. I don't mind. There are worse problems in the world than someone expressing their love and appreciation for you too much.
"Don't thank me, Gem," I told her. "I'm your boyfriend and I love you; some things do not garner ten thank you's."
"I know," she replied. "I just...well, I'll save you the soliloquy. I love you, too, and I appreciate your thoughtfulness."
"I appreciate your existence."
She laughed. "Ditto."
We were both quiet for a moment.
"So, do you have big plans for the weekend while I'm away?" she asked me. "Is there some underlying reason that you wanted me out of town?"
I gave her a look. "No. I don't have any plans; not yet, at least. I'll probably just hang out alone and call you eight times a day."
"How are you the coolest guy in the world but still such a loser?" she asked, looking at me with a smile.
I laughed a little. "The world may never know."
She ran her fingers through my hair, then let her hand rest on the back of my neck. "Well, if you call eight times a day, I'll answer. Promise."
I smiled. "Thanks."
She yawned and rolled onto her back so she was looking at the ceiling. "What is today...October thirteenth? So we've been dating for..."
"In two days, it'll be four months," I said. I had this thought earlier and had already done the math.
"Really?" she asked. I nodded.
"We started dating on June fifteenth."
She gave me a look. "I'm aware of the day we started dating. It just...feels like it's been way longer. I feel like we should be hitting a year soon."
I laughed. "Not even close. But, I get what you mean. I feel like I've always known you. It's weird to think that there was ever a time where I didn't even know that you existed."
"Right? Isn't it crazy how one day you just meet someone and you don't even know how majorly they will affect your life?"
I nodded. "It is definitely crazy."
She sighed. "Life is crazy."
"Life is crazy," I repeated.
We were both quiet for a moment. She turned onto her side, facing me.
"Do you know what Edith and I were talking about earlier?" she asked. I shook my head, because I did not know what she and Edith were talking about earlier. Because I wasn't there.
"Kids," she said. "Do you know how many she and Brad are considering having?"
"Three?" I guessed.
"Three to four to five," she said, as if that was ground-breaking.
"Okay? And?" I asked. I couldn't see her point. Plus, that's a pretty big range.
"Five," she emphasized incredulously. "Isn't that a lot?"
"I mean, yeah," I said. "It's not that uncommon, though. I could see them having five kids."
"I don't know why it's so mind-blowing. Maybe it's just because Edith's my best friend and thinking about her having even one kid is insane, not to mention five," she said, laying on her back and looking at the ceiling again.
"Yeah," I replied. I realized that Gemma and I have never even talked about having kids. I don't even know if she wants to have kids. I mean, I'm nearly positive she does, but she's never pointedly said so.
"I'm guessing you're not down to have five kids, then?" I asked with a smile.
She sighed. "I'm not necessarily opposed to it, but...that just seems like so much. The giving birth part really scares me, and doing that five times sounds pretty much like a nightmare. Plus, think about how hard it is to just have one kid. Multiply that by five?" She shook her head, as if it was already taking an emotional toll on her.
"If that's what you wanted though, I'd be willing to consider. I mean, as long as the pregnancy itself and giving birth didn't take an unbearable toll on me, I wouldn't rule it out," she added. If that's what I wanted.
"I want what you want," I told her. I needed to take a step back for a second. Are she and I actually talking about having kids together? Children that are half me and half her? I feel like I can wrap my head around marrying her, but having kids is completely different. If you would have told me seven months ago that I was going to be having this conversation, I would have laughed.
"Okay, if you didn't have to give birth or be pregnant, how many would you want?" I asked.
She thought about it.
"Okay, ideally? I like the idea of having four; preferably two girls and two boys. I like the symmetry. Four is in between having a lot and having not a lot," she said. "I always wished that I would have had a sibling closer to my age, and I wish Liam had one, too. Neither of us can really be there for each other, and we're only about four years apart. I was always jealous of the kids who could do everything with their siblings. Liam and I really couldn't. We couldn't do everything, at least."
"How are you gawking at five if you want four?" I asked, pointing out her hypocrisy.
"I want four in an ideal world," she explained matter-of-factly. "Edith wants five in the real world."
I smiled a little. I agreed with her reasoning; besides, I think having a big-ish family would be fun. I'm totally down for that; I'd be willing to do whatever she wants, though. Within reason.
"I like four, too. Of course, we don't get to choose if they're boys or girls, so we could end up with like...four boys," I pointed out.
"By the time we have kids, they'll probably have that design-your-own-kid technology, so we can customize it," she said, making me laugh.
"Is that real?"
She nodded. "It's developing technology. Look it up."
I wrinkled my nose. "Who would want to do that?"
"Design their baby?"
"Yeah. Where's the fun in the that?" I said. "Plus, don't you just love your child, no matter what they look like? Why does that matter?"
"People are always playing God these days," she replied, shaking her head. "I would love my kid no matter what, even if they had your bad sense of humor."
I rolled my eyes. "Better than them inheriting your know-it-all gene."
She laughed. "Honestly, if I had a kid that was anything like you, I'd be pretty stoked."
"Me too," I agreed. "That'd be one heck of a kid."
She laughed again, looking at me with her gorgeous eyes. I hope our kids have her eyes.
Is it premature to talk about our kids? They're only hypothetical kids, of course, but still. How do you not talk about your hypothetical kids with the person you're dating? I mean, I guess you wouldn't if you weren't seeking a future with them, but I'm definitely seeking a future with Gemma and I think the feeling is mutual.
"I'd rather our kids be more like you," I told her. It's true. She has more redeeming traits that I want to pass down. "I want them to inherit your insane intelligence. Then, they could be like, rocket scientists or FBI agents or something. And I also want them to look like you. And be as kindhearted as you."
She smiled and shook her head. "I would be disappointed if our kids looked like me. I want them to have...your extreme talent and your humility. And I want them to smile like you. If they're even half the person you are, I'll be perfectly happy."
I couldn't help but smile, physically feeling the love I have for her in my chest again. She always knows what to say.
"See? Look at how cute that smile is," she said to me, grinning as she spoke. "I want our kids to have exactly that."
I put my hands over my face, which was probably turning red. "Shut up," I said, my voice muffled in my hands.
She laughed, peeling my hands off my face. She kissed me, quickly and sweetly, then she yawned, and turned onto her side, not facing me anymore.
"I love you," she said. "But I think I have to call it a night."
I smiled to myself. "I love you, too, Gem. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," she murmured in reply.
And it was definitely a good night.
———
hello. i am back. it is me. i return with an update for you.
okay hi, how are we doing? i hope you all are doing well! i am...okay! which is good. is anything exciting happening in your life? i hope so.
ummm if you liked this chapter, maybe let me know. if you didn't, also let me know.
QUESTION OF THE DAY: what should edith name her baby?
i lowkey forgot that that was a b-plot of this story so i haven't put much thought into it. not revealing if it's a boy or girl until she gives birth, so maybe leave a few options? thanks in advance
➡️ also, what's our jam?
sigrid's new album came out!!! i've been a sigrid fan for a good while
now (we stan the ogs: don't kill my vibe and plot twist) so i'm vibing with this new album. my faves are: never mine, basic, mine right now, and level up. a few more current faves are:
- fortress by lennon stella
- roxanne by chase atlantic
- deep by julia michaels
- out of love by alessia cara
okay that is all! thanks for reading i love all of you!! have a great day/afternoon/night!!!
xx-maggie