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Lina rolls over to her other side, batting her eyelashes lazily only to be greeted with yet another gloomy morning. She grazes her hand against the cold sheets. Burrowing into the quilt more, she breathes in the warm musk Harry's left behind.
It's a sensitive kind of day—smog and fog hover over the British capital, pavements carpeted with golden leaves, the sun nowhere to be found. A beautiful melancholy sets in for Londoners.
Groggily clambering out of bed, she tucks her feet into her slippers at the end of the bed before she bundles up in a fluffy lilac dressing gown and strolls downstairs.
She trudges down the squeaky stairs to the kitchen where the smell of coffee brewing is wafting through the house. She finds a fully dressed Harry with his back to her as he flips an omelette in a pan. Delicate music floats about the London pad. The song is played on low-volume as if Harry was trying to be conscious of her previous sleep.
He catches her entering the room out of the corner of his eye and grabs another mug for her. She stumbles to his side, taking the mug from his hand and kissing his shoulder softly.
"Hey," he speaks tenderly, leaning towards her when she presses her front against his side. Stretching his neck to slant his mouth over hers, his lips are slow, completely unhurried as he drinks her in. She smoothes a hand down the centre of his back. "How'd you sleep?"
"Eh, alright," she yawns, "You?"
"You were tossing and turning so much you kept waking me," he smiles to himself while he pours his own mug.
"That was your daughter's doing," she says, leaning down to press a kiss to his bicep. "Smells good."
"Almost done," he kisses her hairline quickly. "You look extra soft today."
"I wouldn't exactly say that." She inspects her untidy state.
He grabs his phone from the countertop, "Do me a twirl?"
He documents as she does a twirl on the spot, hands cushioning her watermelon-sized baby bump. Her coffee brown hair swishes around and she's got a goofy, toothy beam arched across her pink lips.
At her most feminine, she isn't just pretty, she's otherworldly.
Sheepishly, she does a small courtesy after her spin then waddles over to the fridge and rummages through its content for the creamer. Harry, the proud dad-to-be posts the snippet on his close friends Instagram story with the caption officially on baby watch.
"Any more thoughts on names?" Lina asks, skimming through the list of baby names they've curated over the last few weeks.
"Hmm," Harry strokes the stubble on his chin, "I dunno really. I've always loved Vivian?"
"I like Vivian. Ruby? Flora?"
"Not Ruby, 'm already a godfather to one," he points out with a fond glimmer in his green eyes.
She goes about her business, fixing her coffee as he slides her omelette onto a nearby plate with Marmite on toast already laid out while she considers names. "Erm," she bumps her hip against the counter and racks her brains. "What about Harper?"
"I mean 's an alright name," he shrugs.
"How about," she trails off, watching milk swirl into coffee, "I thought maybe Marigold? Goldie for short?"
He sips on his black coffee, nodding over the top of his yellow mug, "I sort of love it?"
She grins against the lip of her own mug, "I like that name rather much, too."
"Marigold," he repeats, savouring the flow of the name. "It's definitely an option. Let's jot it down."
