thank you guys for being so patient, i know this chapter is very anticipated so without further ado....✨
rushed and not proofread, i'm sorry for any mistakes😭
what will the twins be 👶👶? 💙?💖?
comment your final guesses before reading! —————->
"Oh thank you so much, Grecia," I smile big as she hands me the box.
She came to deliver it right to our front door.
"No problem, honey," Grecia smiles, rubbing the top of my shoulder, "I wish I looked like you while pregnant, you are glowing!"
"Oh stop," I playfully respond.
"Congratulations," She smiles at me once more before putting her sunglasses on and heading back to her car.
"Tell Chris, I said Hello!" She says before getting into her vehicle.
"I will!" I wave and head back inside the same time she drives off.
It was early morning, and I placed the box that contained the genders of my babies in the center of our kitchen island.
As we began our day, I just stared at it, it was a huge distraction.
Chris and I would be going to dinner tonight, at our favorite restaurant in Malibu, then we'd be opening the box and sharing an intimate moment between us two.
But....ugh.....I'm so impatient.
I was staring at the box, tapping my fingers against the marble counters.
"Babe," Chris grabs a hold of my waist, pulling me away.
"Could we perhaps...oh I don't know...." I ramble, "go to lunch instead?"
Chris chuckles at me, cradling my face in his hands, "I'm eager to open it too, my love, just hang in there a little longer, m'kay?"
"Maybe if you kiss me, I'll feel better," I sigh, dramatically.
"Oh Honey, I'll kiss you however many times you want," He whispers, connecting our lips in a soft, genuine kiss.
"I love you," I look up at him, batting my eyelashes once.
"And I love you more," He smiles back at me, and I'll never ever get tired of seeing that smile.
Chris's hand goes down to rub my bump, he bends down too to kiss it a few times, "how are my soccer players?"
"They're very energetic," These past few days the twins have been kicking me, Chris likes to say they're having a soccer game in there.
Pressing his ear to the center of my firm bump, he waits and listens.
"What's the score in there?" He pulls away to mumbles against the material of my pajama. Then he's pressing his ear back in order to listen.
"Dork," I say, running my fingers through his soft hair.
Chris stands tall again, his hands wrapping around my waist, pulling me in closer to the front of his body.
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