Silver Lining

nine.

The twins are never on my side and they're not even close to being born yet, I'm growing them and they've already chosen Nathan over me. They allow me to eat whatever he makes me, within reason of course, but I can't stomach a single thing I make myself. Whenever I want to do something, even as small as do laundry, they make me sick, and on the one day I want to be unwell, the babies have given me a day off it seems. I've even been able to enjoy a brownie, something the babies don't like me eating at all.

There simply is no way out of stepping on that ice rink today, as much effort as I make in an attempt to sabotage it unless I admit I'm scared which I've been doing too much of lately.

I've Googled how dangerous it is to skate while pregnant, but I have to remind myself he is a professional and he promised he wouldn't let me fall. I trust him, but I'm still scared of the possibility. I know he wouldn't make me, he's not the type of person to do so. If I decide not to and the nerves get the best of me, at least I won't feel guilty because it's not the only reason why we're going; he's getting some practice in and then showing me around the place.

My phone dings to the side of me, pulling me out of my headspace and I look down, it's a message from Nathan saying that we're leaving in fifteen minutes.

"Shit," I look around and down at my outfit. I'm lying in bed, still wearing my pyjamas, so I rush to my feet and over to my closet to pull together an outfit.

With August nearing an end in three days, the weather is starting to change along with it and I couldn't be happier. I'm not a massive fan of summer, never have been, so I can't wait for the chillier months in New York.

Mindful of today's activities, I change into a pair of black leggings, thick socks, and a grey tank top and throw on a white hoodie of Nathan's that I borrowed last night.

Before leaving to go downstairs, I grab a bunch of laundry that I've been procrastinating to do and take it with me. As soon as I go to open the laundry room door, it swings open and I drop a few pieces of clothing in shock.

"I'm so sorry," we say simultaneously.

He crouches down to pick up the clothes I've dropped and my cheeks flame when I realise one of those items is a baby pink thong.

"Cute panties," he says with a grin, embarrassing me more before he takes the rest of the clothes out of my arms to put away.

"You don't have to," I argue the fact.

"It's okay, I'm already in here anyway," he shrugs it off, and then he looks at my outfit, realising what I'm wearing, "Cute hoodie, too."

"Sorry, it's just that it's going to be cold and this is comfy and-"

"It's okay, Iris, I like it on you."

"Thank you," I whisper.

In many cases, arguments between couples cause a shift in dynamics, especially when you're living together, but three days later, we're in a much better place than before; I think more so because it was heated communication full of vulnerability, than an actual argument from negativity.

My anxiety has also eased a lot in the last three days, I've been leaving my room when I want to, and attempting to make my own meals, not that the babies have agreed with that. I'm even doing laundry by myself... somewhat.

"Okay, that's in, do you want a coffee before we go?" he asks, walking with me into the kitchen.

"Yeah, please, I think I will," I accept; I've been staying away from coffee, but I am still allowed some, just in moderation, of course.

"To go cup, okay?" he looks back to say with a knowing smile, reminding me of the first morning after.

"It's like you're purposely trying to embarrass me today, Fields," I mumble, leaning on the kitchen island to try to ease my back pain.