Sage

59

35 weeks.

"...Wish I was around; I just wanna make you happier, baby..."

I quietly hum the lyrics as I fold the seventeenth onesie and place it into the drawer of the white wicker chest. Once it's full, I close it shut and open the second one, now moving to the beanies and scarves. The crib is full of clothes I'd ordered online, and that's only because the closet holds bouncy chairs, wash tubs, and a four-in-one stroller. Harry was ignorant to my purchases since he'd been so busy with all the attention he was getting from his new song, leaving me to prepare his unhomely condo for our child, who was due to come in about a month. Today was his first day off in a few days, and he was taking full advantage of it, still snuggled up in the sheets when I'd gotten up this morning.

Repeatedly washing and folding onesies while ordering every single baby-related item I found on Amazon was a new pastime of mine. Well, that and admiring the shiny green diamond on my finger.

It was stunning. And each time I saw it, I was reminded of having a boyfriend.

And he was Harry.

While it felt foreign on my tongue, I got giddy all over each time I thought about it and couldn't help the grin that would quirk on my lips. I had yet to tell my friends, but something told me they knew when they saw me come back downstairs with a new piece of jewelry on my finger and a flushed glow on my face. Jenny traded looks with Niall, who then looked at Gale, who hid his smirk in his glass and simply turned away. While nobody asked any questions, I could see it in all of their faces.

"We've been doing all this late night talking, bout anything you want until the morning," I hum the words, feeling nothing but contentment as I fold our son's clothing into the drawers. I imagined his little cry in the crib, how his toes would curl when we tickled them, or even his chubby little cheeks. To say I was excited to see him would be an understatement. And I know Harry was too. He kept me up about it last night while we were getting ready for bed, asking questions about the last time I talked to our midwife and if I had my labor bag packed. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was the one with a five-pound baby weighing his belly and spine down, not me.

"Why're you up so early," Harry's raspy morning voice startles me from behind, making me tug out the AirPods in a swift movement and turn to face him.

He stands in the doorway, completely shirtless. His face was pale and puffy, and his lips were swollen with sleep. His fists rub at his squinting eyes as he watches me confusedly. He looks stupidly adorable.

"Hey, boo. You okay?"

"No. I woke up alone," Harry pouts, making his way toward me. He glances around the room as I playfully roll my eyes at his clinginess. "What's all this for?"

I lean to peck him on his soft lips, and he groans in appreciation before pulling away. I return to my task, allowing him to hug me from behind and rest his chin on my shoulder as he watches me with a gentle squeeze—the watermelon scent from his body-wash mixes with his warm body heat, embracing me as a whole. I smile at the smell and lean my body back into his hard chest.

"Getting his room together. You can help fold if you want," I offer, to which he hums in opposition.

"Nah. The more shit I see, the more I'm gonna want to return it. You know how I feel about all this extra stuff," He mumbles huskily, pressing three kisses to my neck as I roll my eyes. Let Harry tell it, our son having one too many toys means he will grow up a spoiled brat. "And I thought it was a girl."

"I feel like it's a boy now. I didn't get anything he didn't need," I defend, to which Harry scoffs.

"You got her an electronic baby bottle maker."