"Hey, I have a question." Sebastian asks out of the blue one afternoon.
In the two weeks following the movie night, you and Sebastian settle into a comfortable routine. He convinced you to stay with him for a while, so on mornings when you wake up sick, he's there to help; every Sunday and Wednesday the two of you go back out to the park for another photo session; he would flip through scripts his agent sent him almost every day, asking your opinion when he found one he liked.
"What's up?" You answer absently.
You were currently working on a crossword, your legs flung over Sebastian's lap as he worked his way through the latest stack of screenplays,
"What do you think about turning my office into a nursery?"
You pause at this. You had never touched on the subject of where you would go when the baby was born, you just figured you would be moving back to your own place. He jumps in again when you start to flounder for an answer,
"If nothing else, I'm turning it into a guest room. I never use the office anyway."
"Um..."
"Come with me, let me show you."
He pulls you carefully up off the couch, as your baby bump was beginning to show.
Pulling you into the office, he excitedly tells you his plan,
"I've already found people who want the desk, the computer - I always use my laptop anyway, and the love seat. I like the idea of leaving the bookshelf and just painting it to match the rest of the room." As he talks, you see a warm, relaxing room take shape, "The crib would go here, you can see out the window, but the sunshine doesn't hit this wall directly. I thought a rocking chair would go right here, so we wouldn't have to walk far after rocking the baby to sleep, a changing table should be about the size of the desk, right? So I figured it would work right there... What's wrong?" He stops and looks at you worriedly,
"Nothing..." You say through your tears with a small smile, you can see the nursery with its pale walls and soft colors, you can see changing the baby in the area where the desk still sits. You can see it, and it's perfect.
"I know we haven't talked about this, but I think we should get it out of the way now." He says, leading you to the love seat, "I know your lease is up next month. And instead of renewing it, I really want you to move in here with me." You know he sees you tense as he presses on quickly.
"I don't like the idea of you living all the way across town, and when the baby comes, I want to be able to help you. There isn't a whole lot of extra room at your place, but there's an entire room here that I'm not using."
You try to argue, try to think of a logical reason not to move in with the father of your child,
"It's fast..." You whisper, half heartedly, and you immediately see his face fall. The brightness and excitement in his eyes dims and he tries to cover the slouch of his shoulders.
"I get that... Yeah, it's okay, I just figured I'd throw that out there." He looks around the room with a quiet sigh, like he's watching his plans melt away. He absently glances at his watch, "I'm gonna go get dinner started." You realize how ridiculous you're being and as he starts to stand, you stop him, pushing him back down in his seat.
Any seemingly logical reason you can think of sounds so illogical now.
"Sebastian, just sit for a second. This whole thing has been fast. Every new step is just a little overwhelming is all."
"I get it." He says, refusing to meet your eyes,
"No you don't." You whisper, grasping his chin to make him look at you, "I love the nursery."
He blinks, his eyebrows raising in surprise,
"So..." He stops himself.
Yes.
You will.
"I want to move in with you."
His eyes widen and he can't suppress his smile. He pulls you to him wrapping you in a warm hug, planting a kiss on your shoulder. You realize something,
"I have a question for you, now." He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, "Do we want to know if we're having a boy or a girl?"
"Oh... I don't know, I think I--"
Sebastian is cut off when his phone rings. Pulling it out of his pocket you see that his mom is calling.
"Oh, I actually have to take this."
"Go ahead, I'll cook tonight." He smiles one more time as he gets up to leave the room,
"Hey, Ma." You hear him say as he walks down the hall. You catch bits of the conversation, scolding yourself for eavesdropping. As you slowly make your way to the kitchen, you hear as he asks how his stepdad is doing, mentions a couple of things that happened in the last week; soon the bits you pick up don't sound English, but you're interrupted anyway, when your own phone rings.
You groan at the caller ID and almost think twice about answering.
"What's up, Marcus?" You greet, your tone flat.
"Hey, I know I probably have no right to call you after what happened--"
"You're right, you don't."
"But I kind of have a crisis on my hands... I have a huge project coming up and I really need your help."
"Get your new assistant to help you."
"I don't have one."
"You didn't hire anyone after I left?"
"That was a little out of the blue, I haven't had a whole lot of time for interviews."
"So you've been doing everything yourself?"
"I didn't really have much of a choice. No one is as good as you. You've spoiled me for any other photographers." He chuckles nervously, trying to lighten the tension.
"You're going to have to make do."
"I know I was wrong, I shouldn't have said what I did. You have the best eye I've ever seen, and I really need that here. Is there anything I can do that would convince you to come back?"
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling him back you into a corner. You remember the graduation shoots, engagement sessions, portraits, how you never wanted to get stuck with that again,
"Listen to me, Marcus: We shouldn't be working together if you still have feelings for me."
"I can set them aside, Y/N--"
"You said that last time, and here we are."
He's quiet for a while, but then you hear him sigh,
"I don't think I'll ever stop-- I won't be able to change my feelings for you, but I can be professional."
You think of the clincher, the one thing that would likely get him running for the hills.
"Marcus I can't come back to work for you."
"Just give it a day or two--"
"I'm having a baby."
He goes silent for so long you wonder if he hung up on you or the connection was dropped,
"You're pregnant?"
"That's what I just said."
"He got you pregnant?" He voice raises and you hear his frustration mounting.
"Marcus--"
"Did he try to make you... Did he tell you to get rid of it?"
"He hasn't done anything wrong."
"Then where is he now?"
"Honestly, that's none of your business."
"Y/N... We used to be friends." He says softly, "What happened to us?"
"You know you always wanted more than that. But that's something I can't give you."
"I just don't want to see you make the same mistakes as last time."
"This isn't last time, Marcus. He's not going anywhere. And neither am I."
"How do you know that?"
You can feel your annoyance bubbling over, but you don't feel like fighting. The day had gone so well, you were comfortable. You were happy,
"I'm moving in with him." You cut him off when you hear him try to argue, "You have no say in this. You aren't my keeper. The sooner you realize that, the better. Good luck finding a new assistant." You try to be sincere but you hang up before the conversation can go on.
"Hey," you spin around to see Sebastian walk into the kitchen, "I have... News..."
"Good or bad?" You ask warily,
"Well, I think it's good. I hope you do..."
"Okay..."
"My mom wants to meet you."
"...Oh." Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip,
"Yeah, she's heard all about you, and she thinks it's time to get to know you herself. That and we haven't had lunch in a while, so we're getting together Sunday afternoon... Is that okay with you?" He steps forward, watching you closely.
"Your mom?"
"If it helps at all, she's really excited to meet you."
He wraps around you again as you wrestle with the idea of meeting her,
"What if--"
"She's gonna love you."
"But how do you know that? Sometimes you just don't like someone. There's no good reason for it, you just don't like them."
He looks you straight in the eyes,
"If she's anything like me, she's gonna love you."
He lets his statement sink in for just a second before planting a quick kiss on your forehead and stepping around you to finally get started on dinner.
"Wait--"
"Could you grab that bread for me?" He interrupts you,
"Did you just--"
"You wanna make the salad and I'll get started on the soup?"
He sets a pot in the sink, beginning to fill it with water. You stop him, turning him to look at you for the second time that night, and you see the nervousness behind his eyes.
There's nothing to say.
You curl your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him down to you.
The kiss is soft, surprising for both of you, and when you break away, you stay close, crowding into each other's space. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, or straying up into his hair.
He leans in one more time, but you only allow him a quick peck before pulling back again,
"I think that's too much water." You whisper. He glances at the overflowing pot in the sink.
"Don't know what came over me." He jokes quietly, nuzzling your cheek.
"So, Sunday." You say, stepping away to get a salad put together,
"Sunday." He responds, "Lunch at Hot and Crusty in the upper west side."
"Pizza. So elegant." You tease. For the rest of the night, neither of you mention what he said. Neither of you mention the kiss. You don't let yourself get nervous about how comfortable this is, you just let yourself enjoy it.
