It's ridiculous, really.
I'm a healthy 23 year old woman, who's clearly in her prime child-bearing age, has been having sex with a man nearly every day which on those days can be up to three times a day, so how, on earth, can I not be pregnant?
This is infuriating. Outrageous. Impossible!
"You must be relieved." I sneer as I pour the last drop of liquid from the bottle of Rose into my glass. I've celebrated the news with a bottle as soon as we hung up.
"Not more than you." He throws the same tone at me, swirling the neat scotch contained in the glass he's holding.
I narrow my eyes at him, "You have all the time in the world to get ready for a baby now."
"And you have all the time in the world to travel the world." He presses the word world each time he says it, then raises his glass for a cheer. I raise mine then a second later both of us take a sip of our drink.
I put my glass on the kitchen island before approaching him. Both of us are clearly frustrated that we silently drank our sorrow until I spoke first a minute ago, just to hammer more tension into this already tense situation.
"Sweetheart," he sighs with a low voice when I straddle him on the couch he's sitting on.
"I want a baby, Owen." Honesty, that's how I'm gonna start our conversation.
"I want one too, despite what I said." He sighs again, but with remorse. As if the baby vanishes because of his revelation that he's not ready for one, or wish for more time to be ready for one.
"Do you think we need to sleep it off or get right to it? I mean, we agreed to marriage and a baby because we thought we're pregnant. Since we're not, should we wait and see first?"
He inserts his hand into my thick hair right to the scalp then pulls my head so my lips would touch his. Instead of kissing me, he lets our lips touch, "It's a rushed decision but I still want to marry and breed you. That hasn't changed."
I pull an inch between us as I roll my eyes at his chauvinistic statement but my lips traitorously smile, "I don't want to leave you for an entire month but I also have a promise with the girls that I can't break, and don't want to break. So... join us?"
His eyes light up at my invitation, "Are you sure?"
I nod, "Come with us to Australia. Be our unpaid photographer."
He raises one of his eyebrows, "Oh I sure can cook up some kind of payment method."
I laugh then kiss him for the first time since we found out about the result. My heart blooms, my butterflies flutter, I am definitely beyond saving with this man.
As planned, I left for Sydney with my besties the following day. Owen tagged along in our little Australia tour, thank God the girls were delighted since we're in even number now so we don't have to fight who gets to sit or sleep alone.
We filled our days with sightseeing during the day and partying at night, which of course, including sex in between everything. It takes a loss, or rather the non-existing pregnancy for us to realise how much we want a baby.
Marriage, babies, family. We want all of that. I want all of that, with Owen included in the package. It's crazy how things turn just by a pregnancy scare.
We spent the entire June strengthening our relationship to test if we're really up to it. We didn't hold back even a little bit and discussed what we want, what we envision for our future.
Deep conversations with everything laid out on the table of how we want our marriage to be, how are we going to raise the kids, what kind of family do we aim to be. Where we're gonna live, how many kids will we have, financial plans, every single thing was sorted out while we tour Australia.
By the time we're back in London, we knew we want it; a forever, with each other.
The first step was done and dusted, so we took the second step; fly to Texas. I introduced him to my family which of course everyone liked him, who wouldn't? He blended in perfectly despite the strict religious lifestyle he had to adjust to for the entire ten days we were there.
Then we flied to his family residence in Chicago. As expected, they freaking loved me- all his siblings and parents, even his extended family; the cousins and grandparents.
"So when exactly is the wedding?" Kimmy asks right after the waiter serves us salad.
Owen and I just got back from Chicago yesterday but I miss my bitches so much that I asked Owen to add a table tonight for our get-together. I don't care the restaurant is fully booked since five months ago, I just have to meet them over a good meal.
Also because they're dying to know the full story of how things went meeting with the families of both sides.
"End of this month."
Both of them almost spit their food as I grin, "We want to be married before we move to Aberdeen."
"Wait wait wait, wait a minute, darling," Cleo shakes her head as if she can't believe it, "Australia in June, meet the parents in July, and a wedding in August? Everything in three months? You're rushing it, Elle."
"I am," I admit, "But you guys see how transparent we've been the entire time we're in Australia. A month there is worth a year to normal life. And we've been together for almost two years now, on and off but still."
"What about the grand wedding you dreamed of? You've got the perfect guy, with the cute story, if you consider the baby sugar contract is but who am I to judge, but please, you have a long list of your dream wedding. Are you sure you can get everything done in four weeks? Don't settle for less just because you wanna start your new life at Aberdeen with a new title." Kimmy has always been the one to slap me with reality.
And I thank her for that, eventhough I'm slightly annoyed right now because she doesn't seem to support my decision eventhough she witnessed it first hand at Australia, or even the entire time at London when I bring Owen to our gatherings, of how perfect we are with each other that I don't care much about my dream grand wedding anymore.
So I sigh and call a waiter, "Can I have another glass of wine?"
He nods but before he leaves I call him again, "Can you ask the chef to make me a pizza?"
Everybody at the table is surprised to hear my request, and I can see the waiter is nervous because he leans in and informs me discreetly, "I'm sorry, Miss Evans. We do not take a la carte requests tonight."
It makes sense, since they specifically mentioned to all customers that on Friday nights they will only be serving the seven-course fixed menu, and we're currently just minutes away from getting our main course. The chefs are probably cooking up a storm in the kitchen, too busy to entertain my silly request.
But I don't care. I want my comfort food to deal with them, to defend my fiancé. I can choose to shut it out but I'd rather debate with them. Because they know me the best. Getting their blessing is at the top of my list compared to anybody else's.
"Can you just ask the chef?"
He reluctantly nods, "I will."
"Look," she puts her hand on top of mine as soon as the waiter disappears, "I love you, Elle. You know I want the best for you."
"I know..." I whisper, looking at her the way she does to me; full of love and compassion.
"If you're sure, then I trust you. He treats you right, he's perfect for you, I would support you a hundred percents."
"Me too," Cleo quickly stands up and goes around the table so the three of us can have a big hug.
I'm already smiling once the three of us are properly seated again.
"FYI, we already hired three wedding planners." I flash a wicked grin as the girls' jaw drop, "One for the ceremony, one for the reception, and another for the logistics."
The server comes with our main course before they managed to say anything, which he informed me about my request couldn't be fulfilled. Nevermind, I'm all good now. If I still want one I can just call for pizza delivery.
"You should've just said that before I bashed you!" Kimmy looks at me grumpily while I try my best to contain my laugh since I'm chewing my steak at the moment.
"You know how much I ship you guys, believe me it hurts me more than it hurts you to say all that but I just had to. Urgh, now what?!" She grunts as Cleo has already whipped out her phone, arching the camera to my right, directly to what Kimmy's looking at.
I turn my head to the same direction only to see Owen walking towards us in his chef outfit, holding a huge tray that looks like a fucking pizza. He's the only one who's standing among all the seated customers so he's grabbing everybody's attention with that simple act.
I know I'm smiling too wide for this small effort but I can't stop myself. This is too sweet. My pizza.
Until he drops to a knee in front of me that I realise the giant heart shaped pizza he's holding has cheese carved with Will you marry me? Or is this too cheesy...?
I unconsciously bring my hands to cover my mouth, totally surprised by this cheekiest, cheesiest proposal, but also to muffle my laugh of his yet another hilarious yet spontaneous proposal.
Yes, he's been proposing to me too many times since we're in Australia, then in Texas, Chicago, and now London. I'll propose to you as many times as I can, anywhere and everywhere.
It's silly, really. But so freaking sweet. All because he wants to make up for his first proposal before the blood test result.
So I nod, I fucking nod for multiple times with tears gleaming in my eyes. Dammit. Another proposal with teary eyes! Thank God I make wearing waterproof mascara to be a must nowadays knowing this new habit of his. Though I love all of his random, unexpected proposals.
And just like that it's set. A wedding. There'll be a wedding coming soon, guys!