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 echoed around our bedroom.

I've just come home from planting some sorghum and corn seeds in 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 pottered about in the nerd cave for a couple of hours. Finishing off the last of the pond aerators.

Came home, 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 apologise 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 find a pair of the dungarees Nabila 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 remember 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 wouldn't be at all surprised if Alfie granted 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. Whenever I catch him mid-perv nowadays.

I'm positive 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.

Today is our weekly girl's catch-up lunch. Usually, Ro joins in as well. But she's gone to visit with G at the Sanctuary for a spell.

"I swear it's not baby-brain but what else can it be? Things are just magically....vanishing. The maternity clothes that don't fit Maggie anymore, bed linen, two of my tablets and towels. Baby things I've been collecting on runs."