The Succession: Sequel To The Passage (h.s.)

Chapter Seven

Willow POV

This time of year in Rome, mid mornings continue to be hoodie weather. However, most April afternoons the temperature will peak at a comfortable 65 degrees Fahrenheit. Yes, remember I'm Harry's European challenged fiancé I don't know how that converts to Celsius, and I'm not going to even try. My pregnant brain can't handle math right now.

Harry and I are waiting in an exam room at Salvator Mundi International Hospital. Dr. Bianchi wants to check on my progress and make sure the babies are still doing well. We giggle back and forth talking about a plethora of odd topics, including some of the weird baby names celebrities give to their children. It's an entertaining way to pass the time while we're anxiously waiting for the doctor to come into the room.

"Those poor kids already have enough attention drawn to them by having celebrity parents. They don't need another excuse for anyone to pick on them."

"Well darling, I've learned that most of the Hollywood elite insist on being eccentric in everything they do. Apparently, that includes naming their children directions and household linens." He say with a smirk on his face. "I think for the twins we should stick with the nature theme for their names, like you and the girls. Trees, flowers, birds; it just seems natural to stick with that."

"That's a great idea baby. I'm sure we'll find something perfect for them when the time is right."

I give him a chaste kiss and in turn he hums his approval onto my lips. Once the moment ends, Harry rests his forehead on mine then gives me his focused look and serious tone.

"Today's going to be busy Will, thank you for eating your breakfast. You're going to need your energy."

"You're welcome Dad." I chuckle to myself.

It's hard to resist teasing how adorable he has become learning to embrace his paternal side. Harry knows I appreciate the care he gives me, but it is still kinda funny. A man of his age applying these skills into every aspect of his life with ease, is admirable and I'm really proud of him.

"Oh, you're a comedian today, eh?"

"Why yes, I am. Unlike you Mr. Knock, Knock Jokes."

"Ms. Wishart, I take offense to that. There happens to be crowds of people who think my jokes are funny." He giggles softly.

I take this opportunity to remind him of one of his ridiculously not so funny jokes, especially the ones he tells on stage.

"Hm, let me think of one of your less than comedic jokes."

"Knock, knock"

"Who's there?"

"A cow goes..."

"A cow goes who?"

"No. A cow goes moo!"