Being six months pregnant in the sweltering heat of North Carolina was no joke.
Really.
And it wasn't just the heat. It was the humidity. It was the insects buzzing around every second of the day. It was the sun in her eyes as she tried to relax with a novel. And it was the fact that she could never, ever seem to get comfortable in bed.
Indeed, June had been a trying month – and Peyton had no doubt that her husband would attest to that. She had tried to curtail what she was self-aware enough to recognise as irritability and irrationality, but undeniably, conditions were not ideal. Lucas – his patience, his humour, his innate ability to bring calm – had been the only thing keeping her sane. Well - him and ice cream.
In the last number of weeks, Peyton had become very partial to any and all varieties of Haagan Dazs. It served the dual function of cooling her down and reducing her heartburn – the only trouble was, it had no retroactive effect, and so did nothing really to solve her long term problems. Nevertheless, it was truly heavenly whilst you were actually eating it, and so Peyton had been eating it near constantly.
Lucas, in turn, had been buying it near constantly.
Thinking back to the first time she'd sent him out in the middle of the night, Peyton never quite managed to hide a smirk. Ironically enough, she'd really only done it to appease him. She had a wonderful husband, and she knew that he liked to take care of her – he always had, and even more so now that she was pregnant. Lucas wanted to rub her back and bring her glasses of iced water and put the fan on for her. And as the months wore on, Peyton got the impression that he was really quite looking forward to his first midnight dash to the store to satisfy her cravings – it was just one of those things, wasn't it? You saw it in all the movies and TV shows; the expectant father sharing a knowing glance with the store clerk – "my wife's pregnant."
That first night, Lucas had felt a certain pride as he uttered those very words, and left the store armed with a tub of ice cream that – little did he know – Peyton could honestly take or leave.
Now, though, the novelty had well and truly worn off, and he wisely bought in bulk.
One particular Friday night towards the end of the month, Lucas was staring at the fluorescent lights of his alarm clock, wondering if sleep would ever come, when he felt a movement on the other side of the bed.
"Peyt?"
"Oh," she glanced around at him. "You're awake. I'm just going down to get some ice cream, 'k?"
"Hey, no," he replied, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "I'll get it. Pralines and cream?"
She grinned in the darkness, nodding her response as he kissed her forehead quickly.
"I'll be right back."
--
When he returned, bowl of ice cream in hand, Peyton had switched on their bedside lamps and was sprawled out on top of the comforter, with a small fan directed at her, blowing full blast.
He smiled at the sight of her in her cotton baby-doll nightdress, wondering where on earth she was putting all this food. She had a sizeable bump now, and her breasts and hips were perhaps a little curvier, but her height and long, slender limbs meant but she certainly hadn't ballooned up the way she'd feared she was going to.
Her eyes sparkled at the sight of his precious cargo. "Ok, bring me the ice cream," she instructed, "I am so unbelievably hot right now."
Lucas cocked an eyebrow slyly, settling on the bed beside her, passing her the bowl with one hand and turning her chin towards him with the other.
"You definitely are," he whispered huskily against her lips, before leaning in to kiss her thoroughly. She responded in kind, thinking once again that this was one of her favourite things about Lucas – even though she was pregnant, he still kissed her like he meant it. He still looked at her the way he did when she was sixteen and in a cheerleading skirt – as if she was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.
When she pulled away, Peyton couldn't help a faint blush rising to her cheeks at the words that had accompanied his action. "Shut up," she mumbled, tugging the material of his sleep tshirt towards her, brushing her lips against his once more for good measure.
He just smirked, watching as she reached for her ice cream, taking a large spoonful and withdrawing the spoon from her mouth slowly, savoring the coolness of the dessert as it slid easily down her throat.
"You're awesome," she commented, giving him a coy sideways glance, before turning her full attention towards the bowl in front of her for a few minutes.
"So," she enquired eventually, as though the though had only just occurred to her. "What are you doing awake so late, anyway?"
"Nothing," Lucas answered, pausing almost imperceptibly for a second, before repeating, "Nothing. I just… couldn't sleep."
"Ok," Peyton replied nonchalantly, licking her spoon. "But whenever you want to talk about whatever's been going on in that head of yours for the past three days, I'm listening."
He tried to brush it off. "What makes you think there's something wrong? He asked lightly.
She set aside her half-full bowl of ice-cream, turning to look at him with a shrug. "I just know."
Lucas couldn't help but smile ruefully, shaking his head in awe. She just knew. She always just knew. One of the best things about his wife was that he was sure he could talk to her about anything – but on this occasion, he simply didn't want to cause her any extra worry or stress.
"It's really nothing," he assured her.
"No it's not," she replied gently, her voice without any anger or urgency. "If it was nothing, you would have told me already. If there was a problem with one of the guys on the team, I would have had a line-by-line account of your conversation with him three days ago. If you were stuck with the new novel, you'd be all grouchy and a nightmare to live with," she teased, wondering if he realised quite how well she knew him, "but you'd still be ranting to me about how much you suck. You know I'm right!"
"Ok, you're right," he agreed in amusement, his laughter fading a moment later.
"I don't know," he began, "I guess I've just been thinking about the baby a lot lately…."
Peyton grinned widely. She could see where this was going. "And you think about being entirely responsible for another person, and about sleepless nights, and how the hell we're going to juggle three jobs between us with being full time parents. And then," she continued, barely stopping for breath, "then you think about when the baby gets to be a teenager, and all the hormones and drama. I mean, I remember what I was like as a teenager, Luke, I remember all the things we got up to," she teased, poking him with a sly smile. "And I think those memories are going to be what keeps me up at night when our kid hits sixteen."
She grabbed his hand in hers, unconsciously playing with his fingers.
"But," she added pointedly, getting back to her original thought, "when I have these kinds of little freak-outs, I usually just remind myself that it's ok if, as a mom, I have to kind of figure it out as I go along. Because you're going to be there too," she said, speaking quietly but clearly. "And you're going to be the most amazing father, Lucas."
He pulled her into him then, wrapping his arms around her tightly, taking a moment to just hold her, nuzzling at her hair. "I love you so much," he murmured. He'd uttered the phrase a million times to her over the course of their relationship, and he knew she'd bet her life on its truth, but repeating it never felt superfluous.
"Although," he said in amusement, releasing her from his grip a little, "that actually wasn't the thing that's been on my mind."
"Huh," Peyton mused, her lips curving up into half a smile. "Well," she said dryly, leaning forward to touch her nose to his, "now you know all my secret fears." She kissed him quickly. "What's up?"
"Ok…" Lucas replied, almost as if he were talking to himself, accepting that they were going to go there. "You know how we always say we don't mind if we have a boy or a girl, as long as he or she is healthy…?"
She nodded.
"Well, lately I've sort of been thinking about…my HCM," he said, the final words tumbling out of his mouth in panic. "I know that we haven't talked about it," he continued. "And honestly, I haven't wanted to talk about it. But now I feel like we have to. What if I've given it to the baby, Peyt?"
"Alright," Peyton nodded again, exhaling slowly, as if trying to process this new concern that she truly hadn't anticipated.
"Luke," she began, shifting on the bed to sit Indian style, and tugging him up to sit opposite her. "Ok," she pulled his hand over to her, resting it on her round stomach. "If there was some kind of test that we could do right now – tomorrow – and it told us that this baby has HCM," she looked him straight in the eye, "would you still want it?"
"What?" he exclaimed, horrified at her suggestion. "Of course!"
Peyton honestly hadn't expected any other answer. "So would I. And that's really all there is to it, baby," she said softly, maintaining his gaze. "I mean – I hope that our child doesn't have HCM. Just like I hope that if it's a girl, she doesn't inherit the breast cancer gene from Ellie. And lord knows what kind of a medical history Mick had," she said sceptically, referring to the man she hadn't felt the need to see in years.
"The point is," she continued, placing her hand over his on her stomach, "this is our child," she said emphatically. "It's you and me. And we're going to love him or her regardless. Right?"
"Right," Lucas replied intensely, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "It's just… I want the baby to have the best possible start in life. And I don't what it to be denied that because of me."
"Oh, Luke," she sighed, her heart breaking at the look in his eyes. "If the baby does have HCM, they'll detect it as soon as it develops. They'll treat it. And he can have a normal life. I mean, look at you," she said brightly. "I know you can't play in the NBA, but your life's pretty good, right?"
"It's perfect," he said honestly, with a smile. And suddenly, it all became so clear. Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy hadn't stopped him getting any of the things he held most dear. It didn't cause him pain, it didn't leave him bed-ridden. It was a manageable condition, and one which his child might not ever even have to worry about. He sighed slowly, shaking his head, before realising that the woman opposite him was still watching him intently.
"You know what?" he began, all blue eyes and dimples and unassuming charm. "You are a very, very smart woman, Peyton Sawyer."
She grinned. "Peyton Scott," she reminded him, although she loved that he still used her maiden name as a term of endearment. "And thank you. Now can I finish my ice cream, please?"
"Sure," he laughed.
"Good!" she said lightly, flopping down on the pillows with her bowl cradled in her hands, as he moved to lie beside her.
"It's 1am," she stated, the spoon in her mouth mangling her words a little.
"We should put out the light soon, you're going to be so tired in the morning," he advised, knowing how much she needed her sleep these days.
"Well, if it hadn't been for you and your deep conversations," she muttered in a faux-huffy tone, running her foot up his shin simultaneously, letting him know she wasn't really making fun. "You want some ice cream?" she asked, holding out an almost melted spoonful to him.
He parted his lips to take it, not wholly unsurprised when instead she smeared the sticky liquid all over his mouth.
"Oops," she said coyly, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
"Wow, Peyton," he said sardonically, wiping some of the ice cream from his face and licking his finger, "you're going to be somebody's mom? Really?"
"Mmm-hmm," she mumbled affirmatively, wriggling herself over a little into his space. "But the baby'll get a wet-one to clean up with."
"And what do I get?" he asked, sounding very, very interested indeed, although her proximity was giving him a pretty good idea.
Peyton elected not to answer, instead moving in to kiss him slowly, licking the sweetness from his lips. She pulled away when it was all gone, their chins still touching as she leaned back to look into his eyes.
"Any possibility you want some more, Luke?" she questioned, her lips twitching in amusement.
"I might," he said, not even bothering to pretend to be anything other than powerless when it came to her.
"Well then, I might need some more ice cream," she replied, pressing a kiss to his jaw line. "The temperature in this room is ridiculous."
I really wanted to get this out there, guys. I've kind of been in a "meh" mood lately (lots of studying, hard choices, bad news all that) - so i felt like maybe my world could use some LP happiness. Reviews also make me happy, just by the way :P.