Just Friends, Right?

Hate Train.

Jada~

"Look at the bump!" Christian exclaims as I walk out of our closet with only shorts and a white bralette on.

I look at him and shake my head. "What do the kids say now? That bump is bumpin'. Something like that, right?"

Ew. "When did you become weird?"

"You don't like weird?"

"I just don't ever want you to say those words again. You sounded like a Midwest dad."

His laughter echoes throughout our room. I go to put on the tank top but he stops me, "Woah, wait a minute."

He pulls me toward him and holds me, his hands on my bump as I leaned against him. He turns me so I face him as he mumbles into my skin.

"What are you mumbling about?"

"Shh. A and B convo."

"B can't even talk or hear you."

"Let me pretend."

He stops mumbling and presses his ear into my skin. He's so weird today. "You know, I think you're more obsessed with me when I'm pregnant than when I'm not."

"That's not true."

"Exhibit A: right now."

"Okay, but I've always been obsessed with you."

At least he admits to one thing. He kisses my skin, "Are you done? Can I put my shirt on?"

"I mean if you want. But I'd prefer if you left it off."

I put my shirt on, "Oh, c'mon."

"We need to get going. Camille is going to be waiting if we don't leave now."

"She can wait."

I remove his hands from my waist, "Let's go."

"No fun."

"Fun can be had later."

"I'm holding you to that."

"Fine by me," I say, walking out of our room.

I go into Addie's room and wake her up. "Hi, pretty girl. We have to go."

She reaches up for me, "Hi, let's go see Dad."

I hold her and walk out of her room. She lays her head on me, "I know you're tired. But we have to go watch a baseball game."

I put her in her car seat so she's ready for Christian to carry out of her. I pack a few snacks for her. "She's ready for the car and so is her bag."

He comes over to me and grabs me, "What?"

He kisses me, "You forgot."

"Sorry."

"He's an awful scoreboard guy," Camille tells me as the scoreboard shows Christian.

"He says the same thing every year."

She laughs, "Like, c'mon, learn how to smile."

"You take that up with him."

"I will."

I watch as the first pitch is thrown to him high and inside. He backs away before getting set again. The next pitch is called a strike. "Corey hates pictures and he's better at smiling,"

I laugh as the next pitch gets thrown too high and directly at his head. He gets out of the way but I'm not sure if it hit him. I stand up and watch him lay there face-down in the dirt. "Get up," I say quietly, watching Craig and the athletic trainers go out to him.