Gwen's been feeling a bit like a beached whale lately. It's to be expected, the books tell her -- When you hit the home stretch, you just want it to be over. She's on the cusp of her third trimester, which apparently is designed to be so awful that you can't help but look forward to the pain of childbirth just to have the kid out of you, and has
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"So, got ideas for names?" he asked, ready to switch that topic and fast.
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Rubbing her right hand idly over her swollen belly, she looks to Rob and says, "Nathaniel Chase Petrelli. What d'you reckon?"
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"Me?" he finally asked, the word shocked and soft, like it had been dragged out of him and presented in the world in its initial vulnerable state. "But why?" he couldn't help but ask. "Why not Jack or...or a family member?"
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There just weren't words.
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