Endless: REWRITTEN

Bonus - Daisy

Roscoe

*This takes place almost directly after Gianna and Roscoe's epilogue*

(thanks to @sofiasaav17 for the prompt)

Gianna sighs.

I sigh.

Here we go again.

"Here we go again," she mutters, staring at my house.

"Yep."

"Do you think we should've just sent them a baby shower invite and called it a day?"

"My mother would wring my neck," I shrug. "Let's just get this over with."

I get out of the car and open the door for Gianna, helping her out. She's only three months pregnant, but she's already started acting like she's having twins. My family has invited us to this Saint Patrick's Day get-together and usually I just throw the invite away, but then I realized that if I tell my family that Gianna and I are having a baby, it would be a repeat of Fourth of July when I called my mother and told her that we were getting married.

And that was a bonafide shitstorm.

So, this news has to be told in person.

We knock on the door and Gianna takes this time to smooth out her outfit. She's wearing a long patterned maxi dress and a cashmere orange sweater. Her hair is up in a bun with a few tendrils falling softly around her face. I take her hand in mine and she smiles up at me, giving me the opportunity to leave a small but sweet kiss on her nose. It warms me up to know that despite our past with each other, we've managed to find a way to fall even more in love with each other every day.

The door swings open to reveal my cousin, Damien. He crosses his arms, raising his eyebrows at us. "Well, well, well, look who it is. I was starting to think that you sworn us all off since your wedding."

"Step aside, I'm not in the mood to deal with your bullshit."

He shrugs and steps aside, letting us into the house that I hate so much. The house is bustling with activity and energy as random family members and kids converse in damn near every room, despite the real party being in the backyard.

But we have to get through the kitchen to get to the backyard. The people who are usually in the kitchen are—

"Roscoe, baby!" My mother wraps her cobras around my shoulders, effectively choking me. I hug her for a few moments before prying her off of me and then fixing my jacket. She turns her gaze onto my wife. "Gianna."

"Macie," she replies shortly.

"How are you?"

"I'm doing alright."

"That's good."

"Anyway," I break the tension. "Let's head to the backyard."

"Oh, but you don't want a drink or anything? I've been making these cocktails all day and they are the party favorites!" She pulls a colorful looking drink from the counter and hands it to me. "You guys can share, right?"

"None for me, thanks," Gianna politely declines.

"Hmm. Yes, you do look like a cheap wine kind of girl. Unfortunately, I have nothing like that."

"We're going to go outside," I tell my mother before taking Gianna's hand again and pulling her through the backyard doors into a green-themed backyard. It's unseasonably warm, so everyone only has on light jackets. In the middle, there's a huge bonfire with groups of people standing next to it and drinking some sort of alcoholic drink. In fact, at least half the population here must be drunk.

That's my family. Sigh.

"Let's just tell everyone and go," Gianna says to me. I nod in agreement.

Suddenly, I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder and I turn to see my father, Spencer, clearly drunk out of his mind. "Roscoe, my boy! How have you been? We haven't seen you in years!"

"I wonder why," I say offhandedly, knocking his hand off of my shoulder. "Dad, I have something to tell everyone."

"Really? Then let's get the crowd's attention!" And then he proceeds to get everyone's attention in the most obnoxious way, by shutting off the music abruptly. "Hey, everyone! My son Roscoe's got something to say!"

The whole area is quiet and even the ladies in the kitchen have poked their heads out to listen. I feel a tight grip on my hand and look down to see Gianna's red face, silently pleading for all these eyes to be off of her. It's one thing when she's the center of attention at a party, but it's another when everyone who judged her so hard for finding her own freedom all those years ago are once again shooting judgmental looks at her. She's instantly grown shy, like she wants to escape, and I don't like how my family's making her feel. When they've shoved my extrovert of a wife into a corner and told her to sit down, they messed with me as well.

I put an arm around her and pull her against me so that her face is buried in my chest, shielding her from the stares. Then, in a little bit of a flippant way, I declare, "I'm going to be a father... because of this beautiful woman right here."

From the kitchen, a glass is broken. I hear another person mutter 'shit' under their breath. A few people coyly wolf whistle.

"Well..." Suddenly, my father has sobered up. "That's, uh... that's exciting news."

"How will you afford the baby?" a woman behind us asks meekly.

That's a good question... "We should go," I mutter to Gianna, pulling her into the house. Of course, everyone who heard the news is swarming us with questions. How far along is she? Is it a boy or a girl? Are you the father? Are you sure you're the father? Is she going to stay at home and take care of it?

All these questions were directed towards me. Not towards Gianna. They don't think she has a voice or even an opinion.

I take her hand and pull her out of the house. She pulls her hand out of mine as soon as we get close to the car.

"Why are we running from these people?" she asks, her voice heating.

"Because they're assholes, and we weren't planning on staying that long anyway."

"Did you hear them? Asking if you were the father? I should go in there and—" She spins on her heels and begins to storm back inside the house to give my family a piece of her mind. I reach out and gently take her wrist, pulling her back to me.

"You shouldn't give your energy to people like that. Who cares what they think? We know the truth and their speculations won't get to us."

She just stares up at me with a fire, her thoughts going a million miles a minute. Then, "We told them, we're out of here. I don't want any of them to see our baby."

"We can pick and choose who we want them to see," I say slowly. As difficult as my family is, I don't want my son or daughter to never be able to meet their family members. That would be unfair to them.

She sighs, pulling at the sleeves of her sweater and looking at the perfectly manicured lawn.

"Let's just go," she says quietly, heading towards the car. I unlock the doors and climb inside along with her. After she puts her seatbelt on, I lean over and press my lips to hers briefly. She's just getting into it when I pull away and start the car. Like she does every time I end a kiss too soon, she groans.

"What was that for?" she complains.

"Because I wanted to, woman."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Man, I love you."

She narrows her eyes at me for a while, and then turns to look straight down the road. "I guess I love you, too, shithead."

Yeah, we're still working on the 'being nice' thing.