“Here you are, love,” Arthur says, walking back into the room balancing two teacups on saucers. He hands one to you, “Now, are you sure you can drink tea? Because I thought-”
“Arthur, its fine, stop worrying. As long as I don’t have loads, it’s alright to drink tea,” you assure your husband as he kisses you and sits down next to you. You have had to tell him this every time he brings you a cup of tea lately. He offers you one of his scones from a plate he brought through a few minutes ago, which you politely decline. You had learned to live with his cooking but Arthur’s scones? The memory of them just made you shudder. You’ve never told him, of course.
“Alright. I just don’t want something going wrong or Arthur Junior to be addicted to bloody caffeine.”
You giggle, “What do you think I’m going to do, put coffee in his bottle?”
He laughs with you, “Well, not quite. You know what I meant.”
“Anyway, Arthur Junior? Where did that come from?”
His cheeks turn a light shade of red, “Well, that’s just what I’ve been calling him, out of habit, really. And, before you say it, I know I don’t know if it’s a boy, yet, but…”
“I think it’s cute,” you tell him, balancing the saucer on your large tummy as you sip your tea, “You want him to be called Arthur Junior, then?”
Arthur shrugs, puts his cup on the table and leans back, putting his arm around you, “I don’t know, darling. We’ve got to make a decision soon, though. Clearly he’s not staying in there for much longer.” He puts his other hand on your tummy to feel the baby moving after he saw the saucer gently wobbling with every kick, “Well it could be ________ Junior?”
You pull an unimpressed face, “I don’t think so. I’d find it weird.”
“Right, well, have you got any ideas for a name or is it back to the book?” He nods at the baby name book that has been sat on the table for about a month.
“I like Arthur Junior for a boy. He might look like you, too, which would be adorable,” you say, grinning. You put your cup on the arm of the sofa and take hold of Arthur’s tie, starting to loosen up around his neck, gently twirling it around your fingers, “So, we just need a girl’s name, then.”
“Looks like it. Clearly yours is out of the question,” Arthur says.
“Yeah. I don’t know, Arthur, it’s so hard,” you say.
“I understand, love. Well, we could always leave it for tonight and-”
“But, Arthur! It’s important! Before we know it we’ll be at the hospital!”
“________, they don’t need names the second they come out of-”
“That’s like the first thing they ask you! Artie, we’ve got to choose something.”
“Please don’t call me Artie, darling, you know I don’t like it,” he said, entwining his hands in your hair.
You frown, “Sorry… But, still, we’ve not got much time left.”
Absentmindedly, you reach forward and pick up one of the scones sat on the table, thrusting the book towards Arthur. As you take a bite of it, your brain wakes up as soon as the taste hits your tongue. You nearly throw the rest of the scone across the room as you somehow haul yourself off of the sofa and run down the hall as fast as your body would allow you to the bathroom.
Arthur stares after you, completely confused by your sudden bolt down the hall.
He stands up, picking up the food and putting it on the table, before starting to follow you, mumbling, “…must be the pregnancy.”