Dear Emmett

Chapter Twenty Nine - [Eight Months.]

It was a cold Saturday in late fall, two days after Thanksgiving.

I was bundled up, partly at Emmett's adorable insistence and partly because I had been more cold than usual lately. It was November 24th, and today I was exactly eight months pregnant.

My belly was huge, swollen enough that it looked like I might pop any day now. It wasn't as difficult as it might seem for me to get around, because it only looked as big because I was a small girl.

I was currently sitting on a bench in the backyard, watching Emmett dart around in the early morning as he took care of the animals and fixed whatever needed to be fixing. I had a warm cup of tea in my hands, and the steam rose up and swirled around in the crisp air.

The past three months had gone very well. Emmett and I had been getting along very well, with fights being few and far between. We'd fought about small stuff, never being angry for longer than a day.

He was sweet, getting flowers for me for me often for no reason and doing random acts of kindness "just because." We had yet to say I love you, but there was nothing wrong with that. We had obviously and unexpectedly rushed into having a baby, and we wanted to keep everything at a slow pace.

My son was as healthy as ever, growing like a weed. My feet and ankles swelled when I walked too long, and I sometimes got very tired very quickly. Sometimes my boobs even leaked, which was an embarrassing symptom of the late stage of my pregnancy. He was active but was beginning to move around less.

At first, this had worried me. But at my latest appointment - just a few days ago - Carla explained that this was normal, because he had less room to move around. I was finding it increasingly more difficult to sleep. He was currently four pounds and fifteen inches long.

"Baby, what are you doing out here? It's cold."

I'd been too lost in thought to see him approaching, and I looked up at him. He sat down next to me, leaning over and kissing me on the cheek.

"I just wanted some fresh air. I was going to head back inside soon," I answered before taking another sip of my tea.

"How's he doing?" Emmett asked, patting my belly through my sweater and coat. I smiled, covering his hand with my own.

"He's great. He is very exci-." I began, but was interrupted when I felt him mellow out. "He was excited, but you seemed to have calmed him."

Our baby liked Emmett's voice, I was sure of it. When he was moving around an awful lot, it would calm him. It was almost as if he wanted to hear it. As if he already knew who Emmett was.

They were already bonded, and it nearly made my heart burst.

"I'm going to head back inside and get started with lunch."

"Do you need any help?" He asked.

"I'm okay, thank you. You just keep doing what you're doing. I'll call you in when lunch is done and our guests are almost here."

I leaned over and kissed him on the lips before he helped me to my feet and I headed back into the house.

For the next hour and a half, I bustled around the kitchen. I moved as fast as my swollen belly would allow, as excited as could be at the prospects of our guests. I didn't often make this much food by myself, but I didn't mind. I found taking care of things - taking care of people - was something I was natural at.

At quarter to one, I called Emmett into he the house.

"Wipe off your boots!" I scolded, sending him a fake scowl while smiling all the same. "I just cleaned this kitchen. And change, they're going to be here soon."