Mimeomia

28 | cosmopolis

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

COSMOPOLIS

( — an internationally important city inhabited by many different peoples reflecting a great variety of cultures, attitudes, etc. )

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

          LINCOLN AND MICHAELA DECIDE TO TAKE IT DAY BY DAY. They're not rushing anything, preferring to learn how to be in a relationship with each other all over again, which includes, but isn't limited to, going on small dates, talking about stuff like the responsible adults they so desperately want to be, and attending doctor appointments.

          The baby is fine. In fact, she's great and, like Lennox prophesied back in May, when Michaela decided to open her mouth and nearly gave him a heart attack, she happens to be a girl—or a little Michaela. Truth be told, Michaela is praying she won't be a miniature version of her, wishing she'll be a clear mix of both parents ("but your eyes, Lincoln," she insists. "We can't let those genes die!"), but the ultrasounds don't show much.

          The months fly by. June, July. With Lincoln deciding to make some last-minute changes to 4W, the release had to be postponed, much to the dismay of his editors and his fans, but they're all letting it slide a little bit now that the word about her pregnancy has gotten out. She doesn't really mind.

          People have certainly been nicer to her regarding the lack of a particularly big pregnant belly than she expected, even if the world doesn't revolve around her and they're mostly concerned about Lincoln's parental skills. Frankly, Michaela wishes she was showing a bit more, as she looks two months pregnant instead of four, but she'll take what she can get, especially now that everything is finally falling into place.

          The only thing she's not particularly amused by is how it feels like all her clothes have stopped fitting her. It's clearly not true, not to mention it's not possible, but she has already gone up a bra size and her heels have had to be shoved to the back of her closet, giving place to low-rise Converse sneakers and the occasional flats whenever she has to dress up.

          Today is one of those particularly bad days. She's sweating, trying to fit into one of the few dresses she owns that don't make her feel like she's seconds away from bursting, and feels awfully embarrassed over knowing Lincoln's constant pacing around her apartment as he talks on the phone is slowly getting on her nerves.

          It truly is astounding how the smallest things drain her of whatever is left of her patience. She tries to relax by doing breathing exercises, especially now that she can barely bend forward, let alone do yoga or Pilates—much to her dismay, obviously, and it's something she wouldn't wish upon anyone—as she definitely doesn't want to snap at him or at anyone, but, sometimes, it doesn't work.

          ". . . we'll be there, yes," he says, in the living room, and Michaela nearly pulls a muscle while trying to zip up her dress on her own, as it used to be a lot easier to do four months ago. "No, don't worry. We'll be on time. Mich?" He raises his voice so she can hear him from her room, and she grunts in response, jumping as if it would help. "Are you okay in there?"

          "Tell your agent there's a pregnant woman in this apartment," she asks, sighing with relief as the zipper finally goes up, "and she's definitely not in the mood to be rushed. Other than that, I'm fine."

          Lincoln laughs. "She's fine. We'll be there."

          They're late. They're awfully late, and Michaela knows she's to blame for that, forcing him to be late for his own book release party, and God knows what will happen once they get there. The worst part has passed, now that she is already dressed and has found a pair of heels that don't make her wince in pain with each step she takes, but she still has to take care of her hair and do her makeup.