Kiwi, The Writer

Frank was stretched out on the couch, taking up nearly the entire length of it. His head was resting comfortably in your lap, his eyes closed as he tried, and failed, to take a nap.

Tobias, your two year old son, was taking his job as a decorator very seriously. With his tiny tongue poking out of his mouth, he peeled another sticker from its sheet and pressed it onto his father’s cheek.

Frank didn't even flinch.

"You're looking very handsome, love," you said softly, your fingers gently weaving through his hair, massaging his scalp.

"Mmm. Let him," Frank murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. "As long as he’s quiet and not drawing on the walls, he can turn me into a sketchbook."

You chuckled, continuing the soothing of your fingers through his hair. Tobias grunted in agreement, leaning his little hands against your knee as he reached up to place a dinosaur sticker right on the bridge of Frank's nose. Frank opened one eye, tracking his son's movements with paternal adoration before closing it again, sinking deeper into your touch.

Tobias stood back, admiring his handiwork. Then, his eyes drifted down from Frank's face, landing on your stomach.

He patted your belly with both of his hands, tilting his head.

"Why is a baby in your belly, mama?" Tobias asked, his voice perfectly clear and innocent.

Your fingers froze in Frank's hair.

The entire room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Frank’s eyes snapped open, all traces of sleep instantly evaporating.

He didn't move, but you could feel the sudden tension radiating through his body.

"What did you say, buddy?" you asked, laughing a little nervously, expecting him to say he was talking about a toy or a snack.

"Baby," Tobias repeated firmly, patting your stomach again with absolute conviction. "In dere. Sleeping."

He then immediately lost interest, spotted a truck under the coffee table, and toddled off to go play with it.

You stared at your son, then slowly looked down at Frank. Frank was already looking up at you, the stickers on his face contrasting wildly with the serious expression in his eyes.

"He has a wild imagination," you said quickly, trying to shake off the sudden panic in your chest. "I'm... I mean, I'm definitely not pregnant, Frank. We've been careful. Mostly."

Frank slowly sat up. He didn't laugh. As a doctor, Frank wasn't exactly a believer in superstition, but he did believe in the unexplainable intuition that toddlers sometimes possessed.

"Mostly," Frank repeated. He reached out, his warm hand replacing where Tobias's hands had just been, resting flat against your stomach. His gaze softened, a burning hope flaring in his eyes. "You're late."

"I'm always a little irregular, Frank, you know that," you defended, though your heart was suddenly beating fast.

"Three weeks late, baby," Frank corrected gently. He had very good memory for things like this. A tender smile began to spread across his face. "And kids have a weird radar for these things. It's a documented phenomenon."

"Are you trying to scare me or diagnose me?"

"I'm suggesting a clinical trial," Frank murmured, leaning in close, his breath warm against your lips. He reached up, peeling the stickers off his face. "I'm going to the pharmacy."

"Frank, what, no!" you protested.

He stood up, leaned down, pressing a firm kiss to your lips, and then shifted to press a remarkably tender kiss right against your stomach.

"I'm buying the digital ones," Frank said as he grabbed his keys off the counter. "Let's see if our son has superpowers."

The front door clicked shut behind Frank, leaving the living room quiet.

You sat frozen on the couch for a long moment, your hand instinctively resting where Frank’s had just been. Your mind was racing. Three weeks? Had it really been three weeks?

"Vroom, vroom!" Tobias announced, driving the plastic truck up the side of the couch cushions until it bumped right into your hip.

You looked down at your son. He looked so small to be a big brother. You scooped him up, lifting him onto your lap. He let out a little grunt of surprise but quickly leaned back against your chest, perfectly content.

"Why are giving your father ideas, mh?," you murmured, wrapping your arms around his middle. "What did you mean earlier? When you said there was a baby?"

Tobias didn't look up from his truck. "You got a baby!" he repeated happily, pointing a finger directly at your shirt.

"No," you said quickly. You caught his hand in yours. "No baby. Just Mommy's tummy."

Tobias pouted, his lower lip protruding in stubbornness. He yanked his hand free and slapped both palms flat against your stomach again, looking up at you with determination.

"No, mama, I big b'other," he declared.

"Stop it," you gasped, half panicking as you gently pulled his hands away. "Don't say that, sweetie. You're going to give mommy a heart attack before Ddaddy even gets back."

"Big brother!" Tobias insisted, nodding his head vigorously. "Toby, big brother. Play with baby."

You stared at him. The confidence in his face was terrifyingly convincing. You leaned your forehead against his small shoulder, taking a deep breath that smelled faintly of baby shampoo.

"You and your father are going to be the death of me." you whispered into his hair,

Tobias just chuckled, entirely unbothered.

"Mama!" Tobias patted your face and left a wet kiss beside your left eye.

"Yeah, I love you too, sweet boy."

-

The bathroom door was locked, but that didn't stop Frank from leaning his forehead against the door.

Your son was asleep in his crib, entirely oblivious to the absolute emotional hurricane he had kicked off with a single sentence.

Inside the bathroom, the plastic stick was sitting flat on the counter, counting down the longest minutes of your life.

"Frank, I’m nervous," you called out, your voice full of rising panic. "I’m genuinely nervous right now. What if it’s positive? We just got Tobias into a routine! He finally sleeps through the night, mostly, and diapers! God, Frank, the diapers. We just started talking about potty training. Are we ready to do the newborn phase again? The sleepless nights? The hospital bag? What if I forgot how to hold a baby? What if Tobias hates being a big brother and resents us forever?"

"Baby," Frank's calm voice drifted through the door. "Take a breath."

"And what if it's negative?" you continued, completely ignoring him. "What if it's negative and I broke his heart? He was so excited today about being a big brother. I'm going to be sad about a baby I didn't even know I wanted hours ago. Maybe hormones are everywhere, Frank. I am a medical anomaly of stress—"

The door swung open. Frank didn't wait for an invitation.

He stepped into the bathroom, immediately closing the distance between you. He reached out, wrapping his hands around your upper arms, gently anchoring you in place.

"Hey. Look at me," he commanded softly.

You looked up, your breathing shallow, eyes wide with anxiety.

"Stop," Frank murmured, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. He brought one hand up to cup your cheek, his touch was warm. "You are spiraling, baby."

You stopped thinking that and automatically took a breath, inhaling until your lungs felt full, then letting it out in a long sigh.

"Better?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

"A little," you whispered, resting your forehead against his chest. "I'm just really scared."

"I know," he said gently, resting his chin on top of your head, his arms wrapping fully around you. "But whatever the test says, we’re fine. If it’s negative, we keep doing what we’re doing, loving the crazy toddler we already have. And if it’s positive... we handle the chaos. We can handle a newborn."

You let out a laugh against his chest. "You're a doctor. I'm just the one who has to carry it."

"And I'll be right there, catering to your every whim," he promised, kissing the crown of your head.

A beep cut through the quiet of the bathroom.

Your entire body tensed.

The three minutes were up.

You couldn't move.

Frank felt the shift in you, his own grip tightening slightly before he slowly let go. He looked from you to the counter, where the test lay face down.

"Do you want to look, or should I?" Frank asked.

"You," you breathed, stepping back. "You look."

Frank nodded.

He walked over to the counter.

He hand reached down to pick up the test.

He turned it over.

The silence stretched for a beat. Then two.

Frank’s face completely changed.

A slow smile broke across his face.

He looked up at you, his eyes shining.

"Well," Frank held up the test, turning the small digital screen toward you. "Looks like our boy was right," he said softly.

PREGNANT.

A tear finally spilled over your eyelashes. You covered your mouth with your hand, laughing as Frank closed the distance between you, pulling you flush against his chest and lifting you right off your feet.

Frank's arms remained locked tightly around your waist, his forehead resting against yours as you both looked at the digital screen confirming your lives were about to change all over any moment.

"Two kids," you whispered, the reality finally settling in. "We're really doing this again."

"We're really doing this again," Frank echoed.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a lingering kiss. It wasn't chaotic; it was a slow and grounding kiss. Your hands found their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer until you completely forgot about the messy living room, your toddler sleeping down the hall, and the rest of the world outside.

When he finally pulled back, he was breathless.

Frank sank to his knees right there on the bathroom floor.

You looked down, your breath catching in your throat as he gathered the hem of your shirt in his hands, gently sliding it up just enough to expose your bare stomach.

He looked at your belly with tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Frank leaned forward, pressing his forehead against your skin first. Then, he pressed a soft kiss right over the center of your stomach.

He looked up at you from the floor. He placed his palms flat against your sides, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"I love you," Frank whispered, "and I already love him."

"Or her." you squented your eyes, defying his words.

"We'll see."

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