“Please?” I beg while clapping my hands together. “Just one more time. We’ve almost nailed our performance.”
Drew groans loudly, annoyed at my persistence knowing full well he has no choice but to sing to Queen.
“Ready?” I ask, clearing my throat. “Is this the real life, or is this just fantasy…”
Chapter Two
Drew
“Great. My skinny jeans which weren’t even skinny jeans to begin with aren’t buttoning up.”
Staring into the mirror, Zoey bites her nails as she often does when anxious, pronouncing a sigh before turning around to face me.
“Nothing fits me.”
I continue tying my shoelaces—bunny ears as dad referred to them when I was young. It’s interesting how we form these habits from such a young age and ones which I’ll need to instill in my children.
Children.
The realization hits hard again.
We’
re having twins.
My focus shifts back to Zoey. “I think it’s time you bought some maternity clothes.”
“But maternity clothes are ugly. It’s just moo-moos and questionable leggings,” she complains, hopping in an attempt to force the zipper up.
There’s no chance those jeans are going to fit. Carrying twins means she will progress in size faster than a single pregnancy. Zoey is a complainer. She can easily complain about anything for a solid hour before even entertaining a solution.
“Society has moved on from moo-moos, and I’m sure there’s some pregnant celebrity out there showing off their hip pregnancy line of clothes. Have a look online and buy yourself some stuff, okay?”
Standing up and grabbing my keys plus phone off the nightstand, I lean forward and kiss her cheek. “You’re gorgeous. You’ve got that pregnancy glow.”
Clearly frustrated, she exhales loudly making her frustration known so all of the building can hear her. If it isn’t that, it’s this annoying song she has on repeat. I can’t get the damn lyrics out of my head, and all I want before work is a Pina Colada.
“That’s vomit glow. Why am I even gaining weight when I can’t hold anything down? Argh, whatever… listen, just go to work.”
I hate leaving her for the fourth night in a row, but my roster this week has been switched due to a colleague contracting the stomach flu. And to be honest, Zoey’s self-pity moods are tiresome.
Here’s the thing, Zoey nee’ Richards is and always has been this incredibly beautiful creature with an insanely quirky persona which makes me fall in love with her even more despite my distaste for ‘80s nostalgia.
Through the course of our relationship, she has blossomed into this mature woman. Aside from recently trimming her hair into a shorter bob style and coloring it an ash brown—claiming it makes her skin look smoother and takes years off her face—her body has peaked. Morning runs and time spent with me at the gym working on her core muscles does amazing things for her physique and especially her confidence.
But take all that away, and I love her for who she is no matter how she appears physically.
I try not to overwhelm her with my praises, but the truth is, I’m damn proud of her. She started her own business, went back to studying to build on her knowledge and skill set, and most importantly, she doesn’t have to work with any sleazes who will attempt to get their dirty hands on her.
But, every beautiful rose has its thorns, and Zoey’s thorns are coming out in full force.
It’s been a month since our ultrasound, and given that it seems like sufficient time to process the news of having twins, I pray every day that Zoey will get into the swing of motherhood and embrace the pregnancy.
Wrong.
She’s nothing like the other pregnant women I’ve been around, always moaning about the things she can no longer do and quote, ‘my vagina isn’t built to be Disneyland. Everyone’s queuing up to go on the ride of their life.’
I mean, who can believe we’ll have twins? Given both my parents have passed, I’m not sure of my heritage or if there were twins in the family, but Zoey’s mom, Lucille, has confirmed that her aunty is a twin, and there lies the connection.