“Babe, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m on birth control, so maybe we’ll be fine.”
“Jessica, you’re bright red. I know you’re freaking out.”
“What am I supposed to do, Malik?”
“You know that we’ll be fine either way,” he leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. He felt the stiffness of her body underneath him.
“Yea and Gucci has the cutest kids’ clothes now,” she mumbled under her breath.
He giggled a little, only would Jessica have that as a first thought.
“And there might be something growing in there that we made… together.”
They laced their fingers together and she finally cracked a smile.
“We can’t get too excited, babe. I still have to wait like a week or two before taking a test.”
Her features dropped immediately after stating that and tears welled up in her eyes.
“Jessica,” Zayn scanned her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m going to be a pregnant bride… My mother is going to freak out on me.”
“We’re not even sure, yet. Let’s wait a while and then we’ll think of it all later.”
***
Two weeks went by and the pair hadn’t really brought up the topic of pregnancy again. They weren’t afraid of having a baby, it was exposing that child into the world and sharing with their families that they were dipshits that got engaged and pregnant in the course of three weeks. They obviously didn’t want anyone to think they were getting married because she was knocked up. It was honestly the choice of getting married immediately or waiting until their possible child was born.
Jessica’s show at London Fashion Week was over and it went better than expected. She was always a force to be reckoned with, but that show was so well put together and thought out that it made the crowd sit in silence. They were some of the highest fashion elite and socialites, she set them in an abandoned warehouse with wild graphics and mindful sound effects. The pieces were so intricate and adorned with feathers and hand beading. She displayed a collection based off of the classic horror film ‘The Birds’ and the audience was awestruck. Jess always told them that each collection was only a chip off the block of what she had to offer.
“Give me time and I’ll give you a revolution,” a young Palermo spoke. This time, they finally understood what she meant. This was only the beginning.
That night, she didn’t drink nor was she around smoke. The audience didn’t really think much off it, but one person in particular did.
Her mother.
Mama Palermo, was flown in to ever show. They didn’t have the closest relationship up close, but they always looked out for each other from a distance. As Jessica sat with they boys, she sipped on apple juice with a couple of raspberries in it. Her mother was approaching the booth, so Jess stepped out to meet her half way. Zayn was being particularly protective of her steps which the boys noticed. They just didn’t think it was that reason.
“Ciao, Mama,” Jessica’s Italian background flooding through the room.
“How far along are you?” Jessica’s eyes widened. Hoping that it was just her mother’s accent that she heard wrong.
“Wha.. What?”
“The baby.”
“What baby?”
