Through thick and thin; A Conor Maynard fanfiction

Thirty-seven

Jess's P.O.V

"Oh Jess, what are you doing here, you should be home and rest"

Dibby grabs Nelle from me as I walk in to the backstage area of one of the many venues in London where Conor was having a show tonight.

"Oh I'm fine, it's over three weeks left, don't you worry"

I chuckle, straighting my back as I no longer have to bend to hold Leonelle's hand.

"You know what Conor says about you pushing yourself to do stuff that you shouldn't, it isn't good for your health love"

He place a firm hand on my lower back, leading me across the hall towards Conor's dressingroom where he should be getting ready right now.

"I know but he needs me tonight, you should know how he gets before  shows and I don't want him to break this close to the birth actually"

It was something that had come rather late in his career, how he always became a mental wreck before going on stage, worrying so much that he once even managed to throw up because of the bad anxiety.

Since then had I always made sure to be with him on as many of the shows as possible and the ones close to the birth were the most important ones as he could pretty much get totally wrecked if he let his anxiety go too far without anyone stopping him.

"Conor you've got thirty minutes"

"Argh, I know and it doesn't help with you stressing me right now!"

I could just about see Conor's flustered face before the thick door once again close before me, his tour manager giving me an apologetic look as he walks off.

"I'll take care of the little one Jess, you go and make sure your second half is alright in there"

Dibby grabs Leonelle by the hand and leads her over to an other area backstage.

Sighing do I push my way through the mass of people that was stood in the corridor, opening the door just to reveal an anxious Conor sat on the sofa.

"Babe come on, get yourself together"

There was no point in faffing about when it came to Conor's anxiety, unless he wasn't totally panicking, then you had to be as calm as possible. 

"I can't fucking do this"

Pulling my fingers through his soft curls do I look down at him, the worry clear in his eyes.

"Yes you can, you'll enjoy it when you get out there, I promise you baby"

Grabbing his hand do I kiss the top of it making him smile as my lips linger on his skin.

"Now go get ready, you've got twenty minutes, okay?"

He sigh, nodding his head slowly.

"This works, yeah?"

Lifting my head up from my phone do I look at him. He looked good, like not overdressed yet still good enough to be going on stage. With skinny black jeans, a white T-shirt and his black Yeezys.

"You look great babe"

I stand up, waddling over to him where he's stood in the middle of the small dressingroom.

Wrapping his arm around my waist does he pull me into his side, fishing up his phone from his pocket to take a mirror selfie.

"Oh god I look terrible"

It was the negative of being eight months pregnant, you definitely didn't look sexy or hot whatsoever.

"No you don't, I think you look stunning and this little munchkin thinks that too"