Last Turn Home

Chapter 36 - Paint The Town Pink

CHAPTER 36

CARLY

On the last weekend of January, John and Darryl were hard at work moving furniture around upstairs; in the meantime, Maisy and I were in the kitchen working on dinner and devouring pretty much everything in sight.

Ah, the joys of pregnancy.

"So you're movin' into your parents' old room?" Maisy wondered, popping a piece of cucumber into her mouth.

"Yeah, it's a lot bigger than my bedroom. John doesn't have a whole lot of clothes, but the bit of space in my closet wasn't cuttin' it now that he's movin' in... My room has better ventilation too, so that'll be good for the baby," I explained.

"Sounds good in theory... but uh... it was your parents' bedroom. Think about that the next time you and John get down and dirty," Maisy smirked.

"Ew, Maisy! That's disgustin'! Oh my God, why did you have to plant that in my brain?" I gasped, putting my hands over my reddening cheeks.

John and Darryl chose that moment in time to walk into the room, both men looking – and smelling – sweaty and gross. John rummaged through the fridge, grabbed two beers and handed one to Darryl, who accepted it gratefully.

"What are y'all gigglin' about?" Darryl asked, wrapping his sweaty arm around his wife. Maisy pushed him off.

"John and I are never havin' sex again," I grumbled.

John and Darryl exchanged looks.

"What did I do?!" John asked incredulously. He took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair and put the hat back on again.

Maisy and I burst into giggling fits again and the boys decided to let it rest, figuring they wouldn't get much out of us now.

When Darryl and Maisy left later that evening, John and I had a lot of work to do before we could call it quits for the night, and a whole lot more that would have to get done over the next little while. The furniture in our new bedroom was arranged properly, but we still needed to unpack everything and put fresh sheets on the bed. The baby furniture was all in the garage ready for a paint job, so that would have to get done sometime soon, and before it could all be moved back upstairs we'd have to paint the nursery – my old room – a cute, pastel pink.

We weren't completely decided on the color yet. We had it narrowed down to a single color palette, but now the problem was narrowing it down further from three shades to a single one.

"We're at nineteen weeks, we've got plenty of time to get everythin' done," John kept saying every time I started stressing out or worrying about something related to the baby. It was driving me absolutely crazy that he could appear so calm and collected about all of this, like paint colors, birthing classes and baby-proofing didn't bother him at all!

It was in early February that he finally lost it and we had our first real fight in months.

"That's not a lot John! We've got so much left to do; you can't just sit on your ass and expect everythin' to get done on its own!" I yelled at him when he pointed out, once again, the amount of weeks we had left, and how it was plenty of time.

"I'm not sittin' on my ass," John huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at me from across the bedroom. "I've been bustin' my ass tryin' to get this damn certificate so we're not piss broke when you decide to buy just one more fuckin' outfit we don't need!"