If It Isn't You
Shawn Mendes x female reader.
Secondary (anon) prompt: "There are two steady heartbeats."
Word Count: ~6.2k ( HOLY CRAP! )
Warnings: Angst to fluff.
A/N: You should all know by now that I can't seem to write a short story, but even I'm shocked! 😜 This is the first time where I’m fusing two requests because they work well together. I always proofread, always more than once, but if I’ve missed anything, please forgive me. I hope you all like it!!
You weren’t sure how to feel as you looked at the little window of the third pregnancy test you had taken, only to see a third plus sign. Granted, the first test you took you may have taken too soon after missing your period so you couldn’t be certain it was a true positive. Or maybe you were just too terrified at the time to entertain the thought of what it would mean.
When you started puking up your guts one morning a week later, and then again every morning thereafter, you took two more. And now you had no choice but to accept your fate.
You had always been safe. Or thought you had. You tried to recollect if there had been a time when you had been careless or impulsive, or if there had been any concern about a broken condom.
There was no question you would be keeping your baby. That was the easiest of the decisions you would have to make going forward. The most difficult? Do you tell Shawn?
Your globetrotting, world famous, now ex- boyfriend. The man you had believed, with every ounce of your existence, was meant to be your happily ever after. You had even made it to the stage in your relationship where you thought he was close to proposing.
You had weathered so much together, navigating his fame and everything it had entailed, including periodic bouts of social media brutality. You stood by each other through it all because it was worth it. Or so you promised, whispering affirmations of love and devotion into the skin and mouths of one another in those quiet moments when you shut the world out.
You still couldn’t comprehend how it all went so wrong, so quickly. You had had your share of healthy arguments and fights, but you had always worked through them after a brief cooling off period, neither of you wanting to ever go to bed angry, and it had only made you stronger. But this fight, the fight that had ended you, was something else entirely.
Abrupt, dizzying. Sharp, and unceasing. Surging, spiraling, and climactically, an explosion. He had stormed out of his condo, fiercer than a hurricane, your condo, after he had asked you to move in five months earlier, and you had been left alone with your anger and anguish, and exhausted to your very bones. He hadn’t returned that night, and had stayed gone for another 24 hours without so much as a text to tell you where he was or when he would be home. It was Brian who’d had the decency to let you know that Shawn was at least alive.
By the morning after that your things had been packed and you had left to stay with your ex-boyfriend, the ex before Shawn, and still good friend, Luke, in his guest room.
There were other friends you could have asked to temporarily house you, but you knew choosing Luke would aggravate Shawn the greatest, and at the time you had been enraged (and worried sick) by his… abandonment.
Shawn had never forbidden you from having certain friends or for spending time with who you wished to, he wasn’t that kind of man, but Luke had frequently been a point of contention between you, even though you had always taken Shawn’s feelings into consideration and limited your interaction with the other man who loved you.
The longer you stayed in Luke’s house, the guiltier you felt. And once enough time had passed where you realized Shawn wasn’t coming to apologize and bring you home, that’s when you knew it was over. You blamed yourself then, wondering if you had found anyone else but Luke to take you in, would Shawn have come for you then? Had you made the biggest mistake of your life by throwing that in his face?
Luke would have let you stay indefinitely, but you couldn’t offer him even a sliver of hope that your feelings for him might regress to what they were before Shawn, now that you were no longer with Shawn. You had loved Luke, but never like you loved Shawn. You would never be able to love anyone the way you loved your tall, curly-headed, big-hearted, Canadian boy.
So, you had quickly, fortunately, found a sublet, a small studio apartment, which would do until you figured out what your future would look like without Shawn in it.
You sighed heavily, wearily.
Shawn deserved to know he was going to be a father and to choose how much he wanted to be involved in your child’s life, but you were still hurting, aching, and keeping it from him, as spiteful as it might be, would serve him right.
He had moved on so fast. Faster than anyone should have after ending a significant, more than two-year relationship. Your heart had not only been broken but had been ripped from your chest.
Shawn was only two weeks into the first leg of Tour, and he already had some girl trailing after him all over Europe. That should have been you, was supposed to be you.
Tears fell from your eyes, streaking your cheeks; you didn’t even bother wiping them away. You had already cried so much, you were surprised you had any tears left.
You told yourself you had time to decide when and how to tell him, for you would wait until he returned from Tour. This was something he didn’t need distracting him until he had time to truly digest it.
Six weeks. Six weeks to summon the courage to face him without falling to pieces.
In the meantime, you would need to make an appointment with an obstetrician, and then start looking for something bigger than a studio.
Your best girlfriend in Toronto, Mia, who you had confided in and sworn to secrecy, sat beside you, rubbing your back in soothing circles, while you held your face in your hands. Your obstetrician’s words continued to play on a loop in your head.
There are two steady heartbeats… There are two steady heartbeats… There are TWO steady heartbeats…
Twins. Of course. Damn Shawn’s little swimmers for being so strong.
You were going to be sick. Again. Morning sickness, in part, but also from the realization which had finally struck its mark. You rushed for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time.
“I can’t do this,” you sobbed to Mia, while she held your hair back. To yourself, heartsick and trembling with despair. To Shawn, who should be there but wasn’t.
You collapsed onto your bottom, your back thudding against the wall, your nausea having passed for the moment.
Mia retrieved a washcloth and ran it under the warm tap. Pressing it to your face, gently wiping away tears and snot and vomit, she whispered, “You know he would never let you do this alone.”
“I want him to want to be with me because he loves me, not feel obligated to be here because I’m pregnant.”
“How can you even question that?” she huffed. “What you have-”
“Have. It’s still there.”
“I’ve seen your love story unfold, bubs. There is no way in hell he doesn’t still love you and want you with every breath he breathes. Tell me you don’t feel the same.”
When you couldn’t, she continued, “Exactly. Call him. Tell him. Don’t wait.”
“The hell with Tour,” she grumbled.
“I won’t do that to him. I can’t. It means too much to him.”
“You and your babies mean more.”
“And his fans. I don’t want to take him from them. They’ve waited so long to see him again.”
Mia handed you a glass of cold water and glowered until you took a long drink. When satisfied, she sat down on the floor beside you, hip to hip.
“And now there’s that… girl...” you quavered.
“I’m gonna rip his sac off when I see him again,” Mia seethed.
You puffed out a small laugh. “No you’re not.”
She rested her head atop yours, which had found her shoulder, and took your hand in hers, intertwining your fingers.
You sighed then, covering your budding baby bump with your other hand. “He isn’t missing much right now anyway. This isn’t the fun part.”
“Damn Shawn and his super sperm.”
You snorted, and you and Mia dissolved in a fit of giggles.
You were lucky to have her.
Tour had ended and you had swelled around your middle like a balloon.
You had made it through the first trimester and were into your second. Your morning sickness and fatigue had abated and you were feeling well and energetic. There had been no other complications.
Your little blueberries were now avocados, and healthy and strong, especially for twins. Your obstetrician was pleased. You were carrying high and had only gained eleven pounds thus far thanks to a healthy diet and moderate exercise.
It was a blessing, your pregnancy, in the sense that it simply was, but also because it had forced you not to languish in the aftermath of your breakup. You wanted to give your babies the best start in life as possible, which meant it was essential that you take good care of yourself.
You had been given the option of learning their gender at your last appointment but had declined. It didn’t feel right without Shawn, none of it did, but especially that. Even if you and he reconciled enough to only co-parent, you felt he should be at the appointment to discover if you were having boys or girls or one of each, for you had at least been told they were fraternal.
Shawn would be back in Toronto soon, if he wasn’t already, and you could no longer keep your pregnancy from him. You just weren’t sure the best way to go about telling him.
A text first, asking him if he’d be willing to see you. And you’d go from there, depending on his reply, because you knew he would. You knew even if you had texted him while on tour, which you nearly did, a million times, that he would have responded.
Afraid of what his response would have been is what had kept you from hitting send, every time.
You were still staring at your phone, rereading the text you had composed for the third time, when there was a knock on your door. You were too preoccupied to wonder who it could be.
You hadn’t expected Brian to be on the other side.
Brian, who had been a wonderful friend to you while you and Shawn had been together, who had stayed in contact after the breakup to see how you were doing and to let you know how Shawn was, and how Tour was going, even when you didn’t ask.
“He always delivers, you know that, and onstage is the only place he’s been happy since…” He cleared his throat. “But his spark is missing.”
You had been Shawn’s spark. That’s what Brian had been importing, how your significance in Shawn’s life had been felt by everyone around him; the unadulterated joy and solace you had brought him was now absent.
You had been trying to avoid seeing anyone from Shawn’s life, especially now that you were unmistakably showing. You didn’t want him to learn about your babies from anyone but you. You were careful when you went out, even though photographers usually left you alone when you weren’t with Shawn.
One glance at your extended stomach and Brian was cursing his best friend. And then he was cursing you, but in a much gentler way.
“Aw, damn it, bub,” he breathed, entering your apartment. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“He left. And he didn’t come back.” Tears fell, unbidden, from your eyes.
“He’s a fucking idiot,” he soothed, brushing knuckles across your cheeks to wipe away your tears. “You still should have told him.”
“I didn’t want to ruin Tour.”
“You wouldn’t have ruined Tour,” he attested. “Maybe you two would have gotten over yourselves a lot sooner and made up already.”
“My pregnancy would’ve been nothing but a distraction and you know it,” you said, leading Brian further into your living space. “Shawn would’ve mother-henned me to death instead of focusing on the shows.”
“He definitely would have,” Brian smirked, eliciting a small chuckle from you.
You swiped the remaining tears from your face. “I don’t think all the international travel, insane levels of activity and excitement, punctuated by long tour bus drives, and the fan frenzy would have been good for the baby, do you?”
“Probably not,” he agreed. He couldn’t help but wonder, “How did you manage to keep it a secret?”
“Extreme caution and luck?”
Brian’s eyes grew serious again, reiterating, “You have to tell him.”
“I was about to. I mean, I was getting ready to,” you said, showing him your phone, still open on your as of yet unsent message.
“Sweetie, you don’t need so many words so carefully arranged. Just tell him you miss him. I miss you. Three little words. And he’ll come running. He’s destitute. Put him out of his misery, would you? Put all of us out of our misery. He’s pissing everyone off. Insufferable bastard,” he mumbled, before wrapping you in a hug and kissing your cheek.
“Brian?” you spoke, as he was walking back toward the door. He turned to you. “Why did you come, and not Shawn?”
He returned to stand before you. “It’s not because he doesn’t want to. He’s beside himself, believe me, but he needed to know if you still loved him, if you might take him back, before he came groveling.” He offered you a tender smile with that.
Your heart ratcheted and your face grew warm. “I still love him.”
Brian’s smile grew. “Of course you do.”
“Do you have to go so soon?”
“The sooner I get back to Shawn, the sooner he’ll be on his way over. I’ll hold him off best I can while you freshen up. Not that you need to, bub, you’re as lovely as always, but I just thought maybe you’d want to.”
You found yourself nodding at that.
“Be easy on him, eh?” he appealed, looking again at your belly, which he absolutely wanted to touch. After all, he was basically going to be your child’s uncle. But if he got to feel Shawn’s kid move before Shawn did, his brother from another mother would have his nuts. “He’s going to be a little overwhelmed.”
Brian had been able to buy you an hour and half, barely. Apparently it had been quite a struggle. Now, sweets. Now would be a really good time, he had texted. He might very well kill me.
You had showered, shaved, and exfoliated. You had left your hair down and had applied only a light moisturizer to your face. Your skin had been so nice lately, you didn’t really need makeup, - one of the advantages of pregnancy, - and Shawn had always told you how beautiful you were without it anyway. You chose to dress in a dark green, wide leg, no sleeve, maternity jumpsuit because it was cute on you and incredibly comfortable.
Finally, you had sent your text to Shawn. It wasn’t ‘I miss you’, as Brian had suggested, even if you did, desperately, and it wasn’t nearly as brief, but it was certainly shorter and less complicated than the first one you had considered.
What would you say if you could say everything you needed to, to the one you needed to?
I’m on my way, had been his immediate response. If his emotions were even as half as chaotic as yours were…
Now you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You rearranged the pillows on your bed as well as the smaller ones in the corners of the couch, you straightened things that didn’t need straightening. You cracked open your balcony door to allow fresh air into the suddenly stifling room.
Shawn only needed to take one look at you to know. But you couldn’t do this just anywhere, especially not in public. People couldn’t see you together until Shawn and his team figured out how to spin it. You had always hated that part. How Shawn lived his life outside of his career shouldn’t be anyone’s business or concern but his own, and yours when you had been together.
When you weren’t in Europe with Shawn as you had planned to be, he and his team let the speculation stretch that you had only been delayed. You wondered if Andrew had been waiting to see if you and Shawn reconciled and for you to join Tour before deeming it necessary to release any sort of statement, for you had been soundly together for two years and had been unafraid to show your love.
When the rumors of Shawn’s… indiscretion surfaced, social media erupted, and suddenly you were being pursued by entertainment reporters and shutterbugs for a statement, for photos, for any sort of reaction. When you wouldn’t give it to them, they disappointedly withdrew.
It became more important than ever for you to stay out of the public eye once you could no longer hide your baby bump.
So this was how it had to be.
The knock you had been anxiously anticipating finally came, and you almost couldn’t answer. You paused too long with your hand on the knob, until you were startled by another set of knocks, more urgent. You heard your name fall from his lips, followed by a desperate plea to open the door.
Shawn had imagined he would draw you into his arms and beg and plead, his lips against yours, the moment he laid his starving eyes on you. Instead, his face paled, his eyes clouding with utter devastation, when he looked upon your slightly rounder figure.
He pressed a hand against the door jamb. “Were you even going to tell me?” he exhaled, voice cracking.
“Of course,” you breathed. “You’re here. This is me telling you.” You wanted to touch him, more than anything, wrap your arms around him and have him hold you to his chest. It’d been too long since your senses were filled with him. “I know you're… surprised, to say the least, and- and upset, and I’m sure you… have questions, and I- I would understand if you just want to start yelling-”
He was quick to shake his head. “No,” he whispered, his chest tightening, as memories of the last time he had seen you resurfaced. “That won’t get us anywhere good. But… yes.”
“Then maybe you could stop white-knuckling the door and come inside?” you asked softly.
He relaxed his grip, stood tall, and trailed after you into the kitchen. You were aware of his nearness at your back and were reluctant to turn around. Maybe if you didn’t, you’d feel his hand on your hip or his breath on your neck.
You sensed when he had retreated, even before he quietly cleared his throat and murmured, “You should have called me the second you knew, the moment you even thought you might be…
“Please don’t tell me you knew before Tour,” he wheezed.
You turned to him then, and met his eyes so he could see the truth in yours. “No. You had already left. You were a few days gone when I realized I had missed my period.”
“You should have called then.”
“I wasn’t even sure then. Maybe it was the stress of all that had just happened between us, and nothing more.”
“You were four thousand miles away, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone; it didn’t seem right, something this important.”
“Instead, you chose to keep it from me. Something this important.”
“I didn’t want to disrupt Tour.”
“You’re saying I should’ve called my global pop star ex-boyfriend and said, ‘hey, you knocked me up, what are you going to do about it?’, right before he’s supposed to meet and greet one hundred fans who are only asking for two minutes of his undivided attention, and then get onstage to play a show in front of thousands of people?”
You could feel the tension rippling around him.
You were getting too close to how your last fight had started, that prickling of negative emotions. There was still too much to work through to allow it to happen again.
You dared to reach for him, to place your hand gently against his chest. His breath caught and he instinctively, yet cautiously, covered your hand with his.
It had been too long since his last touch and your emotions were raw. You withdrew your hand before it became too much.
“Do you want to sit?” you stammered.
He shook his head, but at least your touch had focused him, settled him, like it always had in the past.
The pregnancy fatigue may have ebbed, but you still had days where you tired easily. “I’d like to sit,” you said softly, absentmindedly rubbing your hand over your stomach, making for the couch.
“I’ll get you something to drink- or, are you hungry?”
Mother hen indeed. “Shawn. Sit down.”
He obeyed, sinking into the other end of the couch. You angled your body toward his and he mirrored the action. It wasn’t a very big couch, not much more than a loveseat, and Shawn was a very long guy, so it wasn’t surprising that your knees touched. Neither of you shifted away. That small point of contact was familiar and grounding and would help you through the rest of your conversation.
“I should have told you the moment the tests came back positive. I’m sorry. I am, truly... And you’re right, not wanting to tell you over the phone, even though it felt honest at the time, was a really bad excuse.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I meant it when I said I didn’t want to disrupt Tour. I didn’t want to distract you from what you’d worked so hard to put together. And you were so excited; to travel again, to see the ‘boys in the band’ and your fans. And for the shows. Especially for the shows. I didn’t want you preoccupied with thinking about me, and being torn between Tour and wanting to be here for this pregnancy, because even though we had broken up, you still would’ve wanted to be here.”
Shawn’s hands twitched. He wanted to get on his knees before you and touch his child, cry into and kiss your stomach, but he held himself back.
“How did we get here, Shawn?” you murmured. It wasn’t so much a question as it was a thought spoken aloud. “It’s been you and me against the world for two years. We’ll go down in history together, remember? This never should’ve happened.”
“It’s my fault,” he croaked.
“You have a tendency to take more responsibility than your fair share. We’re both to blame. I’m not innocent in this. It was something I had done that began that horrific fight in the first place, and I’ve never been sorrier.”
This is where it had gone so wrong.
You had had a lot of time to reflect on that night. You had found your way to the realization that you should have been the one to apologize to him instead of stubbornly waiting for him to come crawling after you.
That’s not to say he didn’t have anything to apologize for, you both had huge amends to make, for all the hurtful things you had thrown at each other out of anger and frustration, fear and exhaustion, but you should’ve been the one to reach out first.
“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying so very hard not to cry before you made it through everything that needed to be said. And you were. So sorry. The sorriest you’ve ever been.
Shawn’s voice wavered. “You confided in Luke when you should’ve come to me.”
“I know.” You felt wretched. “I was wrong.” Your heart was twisting in your chest, but it was necessary to sit with that guilt, to accept it, if you and Shawn had any chance of coming out on the other side.
“You’ve never given me any reason not to trust you… Why couldn’t you trust me?”
“I do,” you wheezed, reaching over and putting your hand on his knee that was touching yours.
He covered your hand with his and slid his fingers between yours. “For Luke to come to me to tell me what you were going through,” he whispered. “For Luke to tell me what was happening in our relationship…
Your eyes fell, repentant. Shawn tipped your face up with a finger under your chin. His eyes met yours. His softness with you affected you more than his temper had.
“Recording, touring, none of it mattered- matters more than you. You know that. I would have made time to put everything else aside if you would’ve just said something. My love, you need to tell me when you need me.
“As angry as I was with you- no,” he quickly corrected, “I wasn’t angry, not with you, not really. I was disappointed, crushed… My anger- I was more angry with myself for not paying better attention. I felt like I had failed you.”
“You have never failed me. Don’t you ever think that. It was a difficult time. You were overwhelmed and stressed out.”
“Don’t make excuses for me, please. This is the part I need to take responsibility for.”
“I know I wasn’t easy to live with those few months before Tour, with long hours in the studio working on the new album, the bad days when I came home upset, having made no progress. And then with Tour itself getting all twisted up... I know I took my frustrations out on you- that never should’ve happened- and I will forever be sorry for that.
“And that damned night- Everything I said came out… wrong.”
“I said some ugly things, too,” you whispered.
“I never should have left.”
“I understand why you did. We've had fights before where we’ve needed to walk away and calm down, but that night… you didn’t come back, Shawn. I waited, but you didn’t come back. Not even a text to tell me when you were coming home.”
“So I did the absolute worst thing I could have done and went running to Luke.”
“He was there when you needed someone…”
“Now it’s your turn to stop making excuses for me.
“I shouldn’t have confided in anyone who wasn’t you, let alone Luke. If I could go back and change things, I would, without question. And I should have waited longer. I should have waited for as long as it took for you to come home, because I knew you would. I was just hurt. It’s a reason, but it’s not an excuse. You have never failed me, Shawn. I failed you by doubting you.”
“We both fucked up,” you exhaled.
“When I got home and most of your things were gone…
“And when you wouldn’t answer my texts, I called Luke and begged him to ask you to give me a chance to apologize.”
“What texts?” you gasped.
“Wanting you to come home- pleading-”
“What?” he wheezed. “But- you blocked me.”
“I would never block you- I was desperate for you to come and get me… Every day I woke up I prayed for it to be the day that you would stop punishing me and just call.”
Suddenly it occurred to you what must have happened, Shawn too, if the way his eyes darkened was any indication, and you bristled.
“I don’t understand why he would do that.”
“You’re not that naive, darling,” he voiced gently.
No, you weren’t. You huffed. You just didn’t want to believe Luke would ever have purposely sabotaged your relationship with Shawn. Especially not after two years. You would never be able to forgive him for what he’d done.
As if reading your mind, Shawn said, “He told me I didn’t deserve you.”
“And, I thought, maybe he was right, maybe I didn’t deserve you… after the way I had treated you.”
“You know that’s not true,” you breathed, instinctively reaching out to cup his face. If anything, you didn’t deserve him. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.
Your voice wavered when you implored, “Can we fix it, Shawn? Can we fix us? Do you want to?”
It pained him that you would even ask that. He eased away, you withdrew your hand, and his eyes looked deeply into yours. “Of course,” he vowed.
“Who was the girl? In Europe?”
His eyes fell and he stood from the couch. He took a few strides away, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck.
You found yourself standing from your own sudden restlessness, and stepping closer to him. “So, the rumors were true?”
He turned to you with beseeching eyes. “She meant nothing to me,” he promised. “I didn’t even entertain the thought of her-” he tangled his fingers in his hair and tugged, “at first.”
You shook your head and held your hand up to stop him. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“I never encouraged her. But she kept showing up in every city, at every show, outside every hotel. And I was lonely, and missing you, so damn much; it was unbearable. I regret it. I hated myself, berated myself for it when it was over.
“You were gone for two months.”
“With anyone. I never took anyone else to bed; please believe me.”
He had never lied to you before. The tightness in your chest eased. You could forgive him for one indiscretion. Even if there had been others you would have forgiven him. You weren’t together when it happened. It wasn’t as if he had cheated. He had never been unfaithful to you.
“You don’t owe me an apology,” you whispered.
“Yes, I do. We may have not been… together, but I was still yours. I will always be yours.”
You wiped the tears from the corners of your eyes. Mine. He’s still mine. Your breath trembled.
“You’re the only one who means anything to me, everything to me. You, and… our child.” He almost reached for your stomach but tightened his fists instead.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Shawn,” you muttered quietly, affectionately. “Just touch the belly already. You’re making me crazy with your indecision.”
Shawn laughed then, a full, happy, relieved laugh, a song you had fiercely yearned to hear those past two months, and finally he reached out and placed his large hand over the swell of your abdomen.
“Oh my God,” he exhaled, reverently.
“For the record, you can take responsibility for this.” You pointed to your stomach. “This is all your fault,” you smirked.
He laughed again. “I’m proud to take all the blame for this…”
You dipped the pad of your thumb in the cleft of his chin and smiled tenderly.
“When is he due?” he wondered.
You quirked an eyebrow. “He?”
“Twins??” He stumbled a step back and reached out to place his hand on the countertop to steady himself.
“You’ll be a daddy in twenty, twenty-weeks.”
“The second I put them in there, I was a daddy.” Before you could even groan, Shawn laughed. “Okay, I heard it… But now you can call me ‘daddy’ and it doesn’t have to mean some weird kink.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you chortled.
“But you love me?” he asked, as if he was afraid you’d say no, reaching out to capture your hand and drawing you closer, closer, and into his arms.
“I never stopped loving you,” you breathed, sliding your hands to the nape of his neck.
His arms around you tightened, his hands splaying across and moving tenderly up and down your back, as your lips fell together. Too long. Too long without his kiss, without his touch, without his scent, which engulfed you as your embrace and kiss deepened.
When he began to lift you, you shrieked his name and laughed and tightened your arms and legs around him. You knew he had you securely; he was strong and you trusted him. And it wasn’t the first time he’d picked you up to carry you somewhere. You blushed.
He chuckled into your neck and placed you atop the kitchen counter. Standing between your legs he simply allowed his eyes to roam over your features, his hands along outer thighs and hips.
You drank in the sight of him as well, heart swelling. Your hands trailed down the front of his shirt and you whispered, “That had to have been the worst of us, right? If we can get through that, we can get through anything...”
His grip on your hips tightened. “I don’t want to be your ex.”
“I don’t want you to be my ex.”
He smiled adoringly. “I want to marry you.”
“I want to be married to you,” you smiled back, cupping his face, guiding his lips to yours for another soft kiss.
“Do you want our wedding to be before or after you pop?” he smirked.
“No, no, my love,” he wheezed, trying to catch your tears. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. Was it what I said about popping? I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t mean it that way. You’re more beautiful than ever.”
“That’s not why I’m crying,” you wailed.
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m pregnant, Shawn, I’m always crying!”
He tried not to laugh and you feebly shoved at his chest
“Does two mean you’re going to be twice as hormonal?”
“I hate you, and your little swimmers!” you grumbled.
His eyes and his smile softened. “We’re having a baby,” he exhaled. “Two babies.” He crouched down enough to again caress and press kisses to your bump. He wouldn’t be truly satisfied until your very skin was under his lips. “What are they? Boys or girls?”
“I don’t know,” you said, running your fingers through his curls. “I didn’t want to find out without you.”
He surged to his full height, and cupped your face, and kissed you again, fiercely at first, but then softening, becoming unhurried, as your arms slid along his ribs and your hands fisted in the cotton stretched across his upper back.
When you parted, your cheeks were wet, as were his, from a mingling of tears that had fallen from both your eyes. You wiped the wetness from his face, as he did the same.
Shawn finally, truly glanced around at where you had been living for the past month. It was a beautiful space, if too small.
“Let’s go home,” he breathed, easing you from the countertop and setting you again on your feet.
“This isn’t your stuff, Love. Your things are in our home, with me.”
“I’ll need my clothes, at least.”
“I’ll buy you new clothes. All the jumpers, and stretchy leggings, and oversized shirts you want, and cute little dresses that will show off your belly this summer,” he beamed. “I want everyone to see what we’ve done.”
“Shawn,” you breathed, tears beginning to gather again.
“Let’s go home,” he said.
“I’ll run you a bath, with bubbles. Maybe make you something to eat while you soak in the tub. You should tell me all the things you’ve been craving and I’ll run to the store.”
You silenced him by running the pad of your thumb along his bottom lip. “That’s not what I need.”
He pecked your thumb. “What is it you need?”
“You. Just you.” You kissed him again. You would spend all night kissing him to make up for lost time. “Although,” you murmured when you eased away, “a bubble bath in our tub does sound incredible.”
“I’ll get in the bath with you then; you can have us both,” he grinned. “And after… we’ll curl up in our bed that’s much too big without you and I’ll spend some time getting to know our babies. I’ll introduce myself and then sing to them and tell them how the past ten weeks without their mommy were the absolute worst of my life.
“And finally, maybe,” his voice soft, eyes imploring, “you might allow me to relearn you, and… your body… to discover all the little changes I didn’t get to see happen as they happened.”
“I missed you,” you professed, breathless with your happiness.
“Oh, darling,” he sighed, his eyes reflecting his devotion, “you have no idea…”
