The Honeymooners

Twenty-six. Big shirts and therapy

Unedited ❤️

I roll the sleeves of my oversized, old shirt up and start to roller the cream paint on the walls of the apartment. Enzo is on the other side of the room, already halfway done with his wall, paint splattered everywhere over the plastic drop sheet we put over the carpet. 

"How did you do that wall so quick?" I say, rolling in long strokes.

"No idea," he chuckles, coming over to help me with my side as his starts to dry.

I'm creeping into my third trimester now with only eleven weeks to go. I seem to have found my rhythm, all the tests necessary passed, and I'm learning to manage my belly - even when I can't get comfy in bed.

Enzo got me this pillow that's shaped like a Croissant and it's the best at helping the tension in my lower back.

"How's the nursery coming on at your mum's? Still need help with putting the furniture together?"

I nod, knowing how Gabe struggled to fit the drawers together at the weekend. "That would be a big help. I'll obviously keep her in the bedroom with me when she's first born, but it'll be nice to get everything sorted before she gets here."

Enzo doesn't answer me for a while, the sounds of wet paint spreading with the roller the only thing I hear, until Enzo clears his throat. "I'd like it if you were here when Isabella's born. You'll be exhausted and I want to look after you. It'll be good to get her into a routine too. I think it could upset her if we're swapping her from home to home."

I can't argue with him. It can't be good for a newborn to constantly be put in new environments. I need to put her first.

"I'm sure we can sort something out," I say, not one hundred percent comfortable with the thought of staying at the apartment we used to share.

Even though, things are better between Enzo and I, our relationship is still fixing.

Enzo smiles. "Yeah, we can sort it nearer the time, if you want? I know your mum is desperate to help out."

"Oh, she is," I giggle, swiping the paint off my cheek. "The baby is all she ever speaks about these days."

"It's nice."

I nod. "Definitely."

Enzo gives me a cloth when the paint feels like it's spreading on my cheek. "My mum's the same. She's always asking for bumpdates."

I start to scrub at my cheek. "I need to involve your mum more. I'm sorry about that."

Enzo waves his free hand in the air. "It's fine. You're sending her pictures and calling twice a week to catch up. She's happy."

"Is she coming up to visit you soon? We spoke briefly about you taking her to see a show down west end."

I remember her asking me if I knew what he planned for her visit and if I was joining them. I didn't answer, silently taken back by how much I wanted to be involved in their day out.

I'm not ready to admit it yet, but Enzo is treating me like a princess.

There isn't anything he can't do for me, nothing too much trouble. It's just like it was when we first met, times one hundred. And, it's dare I say it...nice.