Waiting For Sunday

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{thirty-six}

His body sags against the couch, his eyes watching me.

“You’re—,” he points to my stomach, and I feel my heart hammer again and again. With a timid smile, I nod, placing my hand protectively, I sag beside him, his eyes never leaving me.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah,” I sigh as I look down to my stomach, my hand running slowly back and forth.

“When—, I mean—, how?”

“I think you know how,” I say, my voice suddenly steady, calm, understanding as the shock still consumes him.

“Oliver, I want you to know that I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave, leave me behind. I understand if this baby isn’t something you want and that if you don’t want to be a father then I won’t hold it against you,”

I don’t know why all the most negative things leave my mouth, and as he just sits there staring at me, his brows heavy over his eyes. With his hand reaching inside his pocket, he pulls out a small navy velvet box and turns, kneeling to the floor.

“Guess I should give you this,” he says quietly. My eyes widen as I lean forward, watching carefully as he opens the box with his fingers and I gasp as I see a ring sat inside. A large oval cut diamond sits in the middle, with smaller diamonds either side lining the band.

“You mean it?”

He nods again, “If you’ll still have me—, both of you?” Tears sting my eyes, overflowing as I shakily hold out my hand, letting him remove the ring from the box and taking my hand in his, sliding the ring slowly over my ring finger.

“So that’s a yes?”

I nod, laughing as I cry, wrapping my arms around his neck as he holds me close, his arms winding tightly around me, pulling me to the floor so that my legs straddle him.

“Why on earth would I ever leave you? You’ve given me the most precious gift you could ever give me—, besides your heart of course,” he whispers, his forehead pressed against my own.

“Oliver I—,”

“Shh, just let me remember this moment,”

I nod again, as his lips find mine, pulling me as close as he can before he stops, pulling back, “Sorry,”

“What for?” I frown, worried that he’s suddenly changed his mind.

“I’m squashing you both,”

“You can’t do that, I’m not that far along that I know. I need to see the doctor,” I smile to him, my hands fisting the lapels of his jacket.

He presses his forehead against mine again, smiling peacefully as he looks down to my stomach, grinning as he looks back up to me, “I’m going to be a father,”

“You are,” I smile back, his lips catching mine again as he pulls me close, still a little hesitant but close all the same.

“Thank you,” he whispers between kisses.

“Thank you,”

“What did I do?”

“Giving me our most precious gift,” I smile back, using the words he’d said only moments ago.

Laying in bed a little later, Oliver can’t stop watching me, his fingertips stroking gently at my stomach.

“When can we see the doctor?”

“I’ve booked to see her in a couple of days,”

“Will she look after you for the whole pregnancy?”

“I assume so. Oliver you have to remember, this is my first time too, I have no idea what I’m doing. I freaked out when I started thinking about what pushchair we’d need, what type of cot, what car seat we’d need, how I’d have to get rid of my car—,”

“Your car?”

“Yeah, I can hardly have the baby in the Chevelle,”

“But you love that car,” he murmurs as he pulls me in, “I know, but I love our baby more,”

“So how does this sound? How about we see the doctor first, Dr—,”

“Adams,”

“See what Dr Adams has to say and then we’ll go from there,”

“Sounds perfect,”

“This is my first time too,” he says, kissing me on the cheek.

“Then we’ll learn everything together,” I smile, knowing we’re laying in the dark and that he can’t see me.

“Sunday?”

“Hmm,”

“Stop smiling,”

I bite the inside of my cheek, how does he know?


“We should probably tell my parents,” Oliver smiles warmly over breakfast.

“Shouldn’t we wait until we know we’re safe to do so? I mean, I read up a little and while there’s nothing wrong with telling anyone about being pregnant, we haven’t even had the first scan yet and we don’t even know how far along we are,”

“Suppose you’re right,” he says, standing from his chair and placing his plate in the sink. I’d had a little toast, my body couldn’t stomach anything else. Even the smell of my beloved Chai Lattes were a trigger for vomiting.

“Do you think they’ll be happy?”

“About what? The baby?”

“Mhmm,”

“Of course they will, I’m almost 30, I’m surprised I haven’t been bombarded with requests sooner,” he chuckles as he walks around the table kneeling beside me, taking my hand in his, “We’ll tell them about getting married too, if you want of course,”

“They won’t think we’re getting married because we’re pregnant will they?”

He looks to me, pausing, thinking about what he’s going to say and then I feel bad for even thinking it, “No I don’t think they will,” he smiles softly, leaning in and kissing me, “I think they’ll just be happy that we’re happy and that we’re in love,”

“I hope so,” I sigh as I turn back to my toast, but even now that’s starting to look unappealing.

“I gotta go to work, are you heading in today?”

“I am,”

“Well just— be careful,” he soothes, his hand rubbing against my back in slow and peaceful circles.

“Don’t make you momma too sick ok, I need her well,” he coos at my stomach. I giggle, rolling my eyes as he stands.

“What? I want him to know who his daddy is and what he sounds like,” he giddily smiles as he walks to the front door and pulling his bag up onto his shoulder. I stand and walk over to him, “How do you know it’s a he?”

“Just have a feeling you know,”

“Hmm we’ll see, it won’t be for a while anyway,”

“What won’t be?”

“It won’t be a while until we know what we’re having,”

“Well—,” he says as he kisses me, “I don’t care what they are, I’ll love them whether they’re a boy or a girl, either way—,” he grins as he opens the door, “They’ll love me more,” Oliver winks, stealing a kiss from my lips and then closes the door.

“Thief!” I shout after him, knowing he’ll still be close enough to hear me. I turn, but stop when I feel a little dizzy and slowly make my way back to the table and sit down, picking up my toast again and trying another bite.

“We can do this,” I breathe as I stroke my fingertips across my stomach again, “He loves you so much already,” I smile.

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