Quandary | Noah Sebastian |

twenty-six

A/N: hi all! I just wanted to apologize for the delay. I really lost my motivation there for a little while, but you all deserve an update. Love you all 🖤

Braxton Hicks.

After a very much panicked phone call with my doctor, we were able to determine that the pain I had been feeling was, in fact, false labor. Thank God.

Still, she insisted that I take things easy from here on out—not necessarily total bed rest, but to not be on my feet for any extended periods. There was no way I'd be able to stay off my feet while at the bakery, so that meant that I had to leave the bakery in the hands of Juliana earlier than we had originally planned. Which wasn't a problem per se, but I would've liked to have helped her prepare more than I had been able to.

I tossed my phone down beside me on the mattress with a huff after letting Jules know the new and unexpected plan. She said that it wasn't a problem and that she could handle it, but there was a hesitancy in her voice that told me otherwise. I had no choice but to take her word for it; there wasn't anything that I could do at this point. What the doctor said, goes—Noah wouldn't let me do anything otherwise.

I closed my eyes and ran a hand down my belly with a deep exhale, hoping to shut out the stress from today. I feel him kick against my palm, and it brings a subtle smile to my face. There wasn't anything to worry about. The baby is okay, I'm okay, the bakery will be just fine.

"How are we doing?" Noah asks, quietly entering our bedroom.
"We're fine," I answer, opening my eyes to the mess that was my husband. "What the hell happened to you?" I snort, taking note of the light blue he was now sporting on nearly his whole left arm. The longer I stared, the more paint I noticed had accumulated on him. It was splattered across the front of his pants, a good portion of the left side of his shirt, across his face, and even in his hair. "Did a bomb go off while you were painting?"

He glances down at himself, his eyebrows rising in surprise as if he hadn't even noticed he was practically turning into a Smurf. Pink skirts across his cheeks, a bashful chuckle sounding from him as he brings his attention back to me. "Yeah, about that..." he trails off, shaking his head. "I finished painting the room."
"Are you sure? Cuz I think you're wearing most of the paint," I tease, pushing myself up into a sitting position.
"Yes, I'm sure." He rolls his eyes, "Come see for yourself."

He offers me his clean hand, pulling me to my feet and guiding me to the baby's room. I gasped upon entering, a smile spreading on my face; the walls were pristine, evenly painted, leaving only the painter's tape over the trim as the paint dried.

My eyes flicker to the still-tarped floor, catching a mess of baby blue around the roller pan that was now misshapen. I glanced between the pan and Noah's coated arm before quirking a brow up at him, finally putting two and two together.

"What happened here?" I flashed him a knowing grin, folding my arms over my chest and cocking my head towards the spill.
He shrugged before simply stating, "I tripped."
"And took a bath in the paint, it seems," I giggled.
He rolls his eyes again, draping his right arm over my shoulders and pulling me towards him. "Oh, come on. It's not that bad." He plants a brief kiss atop my head.
I snort, leaning into him and wrapping my arm around his back. "Whatever you say, Papa Smurf."
"I think you mean Daddy Smurf," he humors, a hint of sultry in his voice as he brings me in front of him and waggles his brows at me.
I snort, shaking my head at him. "You did not just say that."
"Oh, I so did," he teases before planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

I swat my hands at him and he laughs, pecking my face a few more times before letting me go. I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of me from his playfulness and smiled as I stood on my toes, giving him one last kiss before turning to admire the room once again.