Home Is Your Heartbeat ('Home Is' Book Two - Daryl Dixon)

Chapter 96 - Shake It Out (Florence and the Machine)

NATE

"Bloody, bloody bugger it!  Unless we get a visitor or we're going back out again, Mich? I'm not gonna wear any damn pants for the rest of the day!"

My yell of frustration echoes around our bedroom.

I've just come home from planting some corn seeds in yet another newly ploughed field. It used to be a huge flower garden near the lake. Which is now filling up again, thanks to recent rains.

Before that, I'd pottered about in the nerd-cave for a couple of hours. Finished overhauling the last of the pond aerators.

Came home and had myself a quick wash. Then went on a search mission for some clean clothes.

"You're starting to lose your mind, Derpa. But as long as you don't lose the bit that tells you when to pee? Then you should be Ok! Oh....sorry bubby."

I apologised to him under my breath. After bumping the drawer shut with my tummy.

Gotta remember to stop doing that. Or at least wait until Alfie starts up with the goal-kicking practice again.

Then he can boot it to a close for me.

I grab one of those silly saying tees that Ro found on a run. Then extract a pair of the dungarees that Nabila had made for me.

Start cursing once again. Because I can't get the bib over my tummy anymore  🤬

Today?

Dixon's 'Mini-me'  is at the twenty-two-week mark. Just over half-cooked.

However, at my last check-up with Siddiq? He wasn't too sure of Doc Harlan's maths. And given what I now see in the mirror each morning, I'm not too sure either.

Then I remembered Tammy's comments. That Alfie must be a biggun.

Don't need to stuff a pillow up my tee, trying to get an idea of what I'll eventually look like. Reality has more than caught up. As my tummy is expanding at a rate of knots.

And along with it....my boobs.

Have to try even harder now to keep both  away from breakables. Though keeping them out of Dixon's ever-ready and very eager palms, is another story. Especially since he insisted on taking over my nightly moisturising ritual a while ago.

'Father-son bonding time'  was his excuse. And he's sticking with it  😉

Though if he 'Bonds'  and rubs my tummy any more enthusiastically? I won't be at all surprised if Alfie grants him three wishes!

"Stop!"  He growled at me last week.

After I suggested to Juju that she should paint her Uncle Daryl's fingernails instead of mine. To complement his now 'Softer and smoother than a baby's bum'  hands.

Eventually, he gave in and reluctantly offered her a thumb.

It's now a bright, sparkly green. Along with his toenails....which I did when he was asleep  🤣

Speaking of boobs, though? Eugene's eyes are all but popping out of his head nowadays. Whenever I catch him mid-perv.

I'm positive that the poor man now has a permanent concussion. Courtesy of my palm to the back of his mullet  🤚

*

"What's got your goat, Momma Bear?"  Michonne waltzed in.

Balancing plates of fruit and veggie sticks in her hands, she wearily flopped down onto our bed.