( Four months. Four. Months. She found out when she was three weeks along with Henry--but this? This? Four-freaking-months. She attributed her slight weight gain to stress, the same for her irregular cycle (which has always been that way, honestly), and any soreness or swelling to being on her feet all the damn time.
That doesn't stop Emma from feeling like an idiot, but now isn't the time. Graham's brother is smug, panting on their bed--her's and Graham's; he likes to frequent the outdoors or Henry's room if he were to be choosy--like he has known all along.
Forgive her, Graham, if she seems rather...irritated and your brother looks smug as hell. )
[This is actually good news for him, if he's completely honest, because this is the thing that can complete their little family. The trouble is he can't tell how she feels about it, since they've never discussed the possibility.]
Really? [He can't keep a bit of a smile from crossing his face, but he tries to hide it.] That's...is it good news or not good news?
I -- I don't know. The doctor said I was four months along. ( Not Dr. Whale. Never Dr. Whale. ) I can't believe I didn't --
( Beat. She notices the tiniest hints of a smile. She's nervous, a little irritated--your brother is even smugger now that you're kind of happy, Graham--at herself and, well, hormones and her body all but laughing at her, but is she terribly upset? Not really. At least this time she isn't a scared teenage girl, a teenage girl very much alone, and incarcerated.
( Things are different now. Better. Is she ready just now? No, but she has a feeling she wasn't planned with her parents, that it just happened. Regardless all the hell she went through in her first pregnancy, she wouldn't trade Henry in for the world.
And here's this man, a man that's been called less for so many years, and yet, more of a man she's ever known, sitting by her side.
She takes a deep breath and, entwining her fingers with his, she gives his hand a gentle squeeze: ) Your brother and Henry can't name the kid, okay? Especially if it's a girl.
[He gives the wolf an affectionate scratch between the ears.] He can't name anything anyway, because he can't talk. I don't know what kind of name Henry would pick, but that choice should probably be left to us. Henry will be so disappointed.
so i'm picturing a very precocious little girl who is very literal. oh lord.cygnicalMay 29 2012, 06:08:15 UTC
( There are times when his dry, literal comments make Emma uncertain that he's being genuine or sarcastic. ) Really? I thought swallowing a watermelon would suffice.
watching cartoons with graham and the little girl would be a nightmare. "animals can't talk, mama."cygnicalMay 29 2012, 06:17:53 UTC
Giving birth is painful. I didn't even have an epidural when I gave birth to Henry.
Pretty much both; with Henry, I'd probably be better just blurting it out, but with my parents... ( She doesn't know them well enough to judge, still. At least, she doesn't know them as her parents very well. ) Maybe I can send them a card? I don't know.
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That doesn't stop Emma from feeling like an idiot, but now isn't the time. Graham's brother is smug, panting on their bed--her's and Graham's; he likes to frequent the outdoors or Henry's room if he were to be choosy--like he has known all along.
Forgive her, Graham, if she seems rather...irritated and your brother looks smug as hell. )
I'm pregnant.
( Ever eloquent, this one! )
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Really? [He can't keep a bit of a smile from crossing his face, but he tries to hide it.] That's...is it good news or not good news?
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( Beat. She notices the tiniest hints of a smile. She's nervous, a little irritated--your brother is even smugger now that you're kind of happy, Graham--at herself and, well, hormones and her body all but laughing at her, but is she terribly upset? Not really. At least this time she isn't a scared teenage girl, a teenage girl very much alone, and incarcerated.
So... )
Is it good news?
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[This would be him, throwing a bit of a look the wolf's way, as if to say 'don't make it worse,' and then going to sit on the bed.]
I think it is.
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And here's this man, a man that's been called less for so many years, and yet, more of a man she's ever known, sitting by her side.
She takes a deep breath and, entwining her fingers with his, she gives his hand a gentle squeeze: ) Your brother and Henry can't name the kid, okay? Especially if it's a girl.
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What are you not sure about, if you should lead up to it or if you should just jump right in?
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Pretty much both; with Henry, I'd probably be better just blurting it out, but with my parents... ( She doesn't know them well enough to judge, still. At least, she doesn't know them as her parents very well. ) Maybe I can send them a card? I don't know.
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I think you should probably tell them in person.
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...can I hide behind Henry if things go sour?
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Shouldn't I be the one hiding?
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