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"C'mon," Eddie said, dragging you by the hand up from the couch.
"Oh my God," you giggled. "You can't wait for ten minutes? Dallas is almost over!"
"Fuck Dallas," Eddie said. "I need to talk to my baby."
In your six months of pregnancy, Eddie had started up this habit every night before bed: he would lay between your legs, settle his cheek on your thigh and his lips on your swollen belly, and he would tell your baby all about his day. Every little detail mattered: what he had for lunch, what music played at the record shop, what he wore, who he talked to. He gave little Osmond Edward Munson the full run down, and you loved it.
"Fuck Dallas?" you repeated. "Babe, I think they're about to bring Bobby back! I need to see it!"
"They'll play it tomorrow night, you'll live," Eddie said. "C'mon, please? Ozzy needs his daddy."
"I think it's Daddy that needs Ozzy," you chuckled. "Help me get up, and you can talk to him all you want."
Eddie was quick to grab both of your hands, and he tugged you up from the couch, grabbing onto your waist once you were up. Eddie followed you back to his bedroom like a little puppy, and he watched as you got yourself into his bed, settling a pillow under your back. Eddie kicked off his shoes and climbed up after you, and he took care to kiss your knee as he parted your legs.
"That feels familiar," you giggled, and Eddie rolled his eyes jokingly from the other side of your bump. Already, Ozzy was stirring and kicking up a storm, and he stilled only when Eddie placed his palm on your stomach, just over those stretch marks that Eddie loved to kiss.
"Hey, buddy," Eddie said softly, and he assumed the position, cheek on your thigh, lips touching your belly. His shoulders nudged at your knees, and you reached down to gently stroke Eddie's curls. "I missed you a lot today. So much happened, it would blow your tiny mind."
Eddie wriggled to get comfortable, and he flashed you those big chocolate eyes of his as your finger twisted in one of his curls. "I hope Ozzy looks like you," you whispered, and Eddie smiled.
"I want him to look like you," Eddie said. "But, jeez, bud, you missed a hell of a day at the record shop. Some girls came in, they were really young, maybe like junior high age? And guess what they asked for?" He paused, as if giving Ozzy a chance to answer, and he said, "They were looking for Metallica. It was the coolest shit, Oz, I showed them all of the Metallica records we had and-and my shirt, and they loved it, and they nearly bought us out. I can't wait to show you Metallica. Oh, and Black Sabbath. You're gonna hear a lot of Sabbath, buddy, get ready for it. You're gonna be the most metal dude at preschool."
"What else happened..." Eddie started, pouting his lips as he thought. "Mommy made me lunch to take to work, which was really nice. It was a ham sandwich with those salt and vinegar chips that kinda burn my mouth, but she put those bitches inside the sandwich! Total game changer! Can you make me another one of those tomorrow?"
It took you a second to realize that Eddie was now talking to you, and you blinked a few times to get rid of the trance that you were in. "Sure," you said. "Regular chips?"
"No, I liked the burning feeling," Eddie told you. "Went good with the ham. Anyway, Oz, I... God, I can't wait to meet you. I'm so excited, I can't wait to see what you look like and sound like. I can't wait to hold you, Ozzy. Feel your little hand grab my finger..." Eddie flexed his hand on your stomach, almost as if he could feel Ozzy's hand already, and you smiled.
When Eddie put his hand back down on your stomach, though, there was a nudge from inside you, and Eddie grinned as Ozzy kicked his hand. "He knows I'm here," Eddie whispered excitedly, and he said, "Hey, dude. Hey, buddy. God, I can't wait for you to get here."
"You're the most impatient person I've ever met," you chuckled, and Eddie laughed as his lips ghosted your skin.
"Just impatient to meet my baby," Eddie said, and he kissed your stretch marks. "Our baby."
