⇾ 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 | 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐈

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮-𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 ➪ 𝘿𝙤 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙆𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩?

ꕥ June 20, 1969 ꕥ
10 weeks

I looked around at the diner. Not much had changed. We hadn't even been here since I'd had Mary. As soon as she was here, I never thought about the cheesy chips again. It was like magic, honestly. Despite the amount of time it had been, the waitress who used to serve us regularly, a middle-aged woman, recognized us and smiled. We told her what we wanted and she was immediately off to get it.

As always, there weren't many people sitting inside. I presumed it was what had drawn Paul towards the place in the beginning. I finally glanced at him across the table and saw that he was looking around just like me, his elbows resting on the table and his hands folded together, his fingers interlaced.

"God, it's been so long since we've been here," he said to me, moving his eyes back to meet mine.

"Just think," I said. "Last time we were here, I was big as a bloody whale! Now, I'm about to be there again!" We both grinned at one another.

"I wanna show you some of my songs," he said to me. "When we get home, okay?"

I smiled. "I'd love to hear them," was my response.

"I'm gonna set up a studio in Scotland," he told me. "That's where I'll record it, I think. Maybe I'll do some of it here too."

I nodded. "Whatever you feel is fit," I replied with an encouraging smile. Of course, I was going to support everything he did no matter what.

He grinned from ear-to-ear. "I always say it," he said. "But I bloody love our life. It's so good to know that we've got a healthy and happy daughter, and another healthy baby on the way. I'm so excited to meet the new baby, you know? I can't believe we're already a quarter of the way there."

"I can't either," I responded. "We need to go soon and get Mary her new big girl bed," I said with a smile. "She's very excited, y'know."

"I know she is," he replied. "We'll go look this week. I'm gonna call Dad later. I'll see if he wants to come up soon and we can finally tell him."

"Yep, and we're going to see my parents next week," I said, feeling quite nervous even though it seemed pretty unjustified. Even so, I was still remembering the last time I'd told them I was pregnant. I had been ten weeks that time too. If anything was different now, it was the fact that I could easily hide my belly last time. I was already searching for the loosest dress I owned. What I had actually worn that day would have shown how pudgy I was getting this time around.

Paul noticed the look on my face. He could tell exactly what I was thinking. He always could. "You're nervous, aren't you?"

I shrugged. "Maybe a little," I replied, sipping on my water.

"Oh, Juliette—."

"I know it's silly," I replied. "I just can't stop thinking about last time. I was this far along last time, when I told them." I frowned, sipping on my drink. "It's bringing back all sorts of bad memories, though."

He nodded, and our waitress came back with our food. We thanked her and resumed our conversation. "It'll be alright," he assured me finally. "This time is so much different from last time. You know that."

"Yeah, I do," I responded. "I know it's stupid, I'm sorry." I sighed. "I just can't help it. I always like to assume the worst."

Paul smiled at me encouragingly. "I promise you that everything is going to be okay, you got that?" he told me.

I bit my lip, wondering if I should have mentioned the next part. "Sometimes I'm still scared I'll miscarry," I admitted quietly. "I know the doctor says that everything is alright now, but I sometimes still worry."

Paul's face glazed over in worry. I had completely forgotten about the fact that there was food sitting right in front of me, so I reached forward and took a chip, popping it into my mouth just to keep myself busy. I didn't like the way Paul was looking at me. He was looking at me like I was some puppy dog far away from home, and it made me feel bad. I hated to worry him with all my stupid fears, but sometimes it was hard to keep it all to myself. When I went to reach for another chip, he caught my hand, causing me to look up into his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me this?" he asked me. "All these 'sometimes,' but I never knew?"

I shrugged. "It just seemed stupid. Still does, really. I didn't want to worry you."

His thumb began to trace patterns on the back of my hand as he eyes bore into mine. He was trying to make sense of everything I was saying, trying to gather his words to make me feel better, but I wasn't sure he knew what to say anyway.

"Hey, Juliette, can I tell you something?" he asked me carefully. "I've kept it a secret until now. Only the rest of the band knows."

I was surprised. I hadn't know there were any secretes between Paul and I. What else was he keeping from me? "Yeah," I said carefully. "Tell me."

"Back when I was nineteen," he said carefully, removing his hand from mine and intertwining his fingers with his elbows on the table again. "My girlfriend at the time got pregnant." I widened my eyes. Why the fuck did I not know this? "She miscarried."

I didn't know what to say. I felt a pit of anger bubble up inside, but I didn't really want to feel angry. "Paul—," I began, putting my hands to my face and sighing.

"I should have told you," he said quickly. "It just isn't something I like to think about." I was uncomfortable, and so was he. I didn't know how this was supposed to help me. My hands were shaking as I ran my hand back through my hair. Paul could tell I was upset with him just by the look in my eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have been, but the thought of him hiding stuff from me really got on my nerves nonetheless. I didn't hide anything from him!

I reached for the chips in the middle of the table and put another one in my mouth, trying to swallow my anger with it. "It's fine," I said finally. "I can see why you wouldn't want to mention it."

"No, it's not fine," he retaliated. "I can tell when you're upset with me, y'know."

I shook my head. "No, Paul, I've got more to worry about than that." I paused for a long moment. "But you aren't hiding anything else from me, are you?" I asked sheepishly.

"What? No, no, no," he said quickly. "That's just something I don't tell anyone."

"But, I'm your wife," I argued. "And you told me you haven't ever kept anything from me."

He frowned. "It's just that one thing," he said.

"Do you promise?" I asked. These bloody hormones were making me feel even more insecure about this than I would have been otherwise. It seems all I could feel these days were insecurity.

"I promise," he responded, biting his lip nervously. "I really do."