#Chapter 429 – Names
Cora
Matthew? Roger tries, passing the name down the line to the baby and I grip his hand, and we both wait…
But nothing.
“The baby doesn’t like the name Matthew,” I whisper, laughing a little. “Well, it was just a starter,” Roger murmurs, grinning at me again. “You try one.”
“All right,” I say, leaning my head back and taking a deep breath. And then I pass a name down, trying… Oliver.
“Oliver!?” Roger bursts out in disgust and I gasp, glaring at him.
“You are biasing our son!” I accuse, sitting up to smack him. “I said nothing when you said stupid Matthew!”
“Matty is a cute name “he protests, laughing and blocking my blow. “Oliver is the name of a sickly Victorian child who wants more gruel -”
I growl and lay back, taking a deep breath and gathering myself. “Well, let’s see what the baby thinks,” I murmur, sending Roger another glare. And then I try again, whispering Oliver? down the bond. But nothing comes back.
“Good baby,” Roger murmurs, kissing my stomach again and making me laugh. “Don’t let her call you that. It’s terrible.”
“Okay okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Let’s try one more.”
“I’ll pick it?” Roger asks.
“Sure,” I reply, relaxing. “But this time, pick one you really, really like. One that you’d actually want him to be called – your favorite.”
“Okay,” he murmurs.
And then Roger passes another name down the bond, and I smile, because…
Because I love it.
And we wait…
And then both Roger and I gasp at the same time as we feel the baby respond.
Happy!
“Oh my god,” I say, laughing and sitting up as Roger snatches me to him, pulling me fast into his lap.
“Did we did we just -” he stares at me, thrilled. Laughing, elated, I take his face in my hands and kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him.
Because…I think we just named the baby.
Roger and I stayed on that beach almost until the sun came up, and then we gathered up all of our sandy clothes and the blanket and trooped back to the house, where we closed the doors and slept for hours and ignored the whole world.
We woke up in the early afternoon to the owner of the bungalow tapping on the door, bringing us a basket of food so we could eat something, and Roger went to get it while I curled further up in bed, deciding that I was never, ever getting up.
Of course, I had to, eventually, because Roger wouldn’t let me eat all my meals in bed, instead insisting that I come and sit with him on the couch for the elaborate dinner he made. Well, elaborate for Roger, who never learned to cook. But the spread of sandwiches and warmed soup and crackers he made was delicious, and certainly hit the spot.
We spent two more days like that, surviving on whatever the landlord brought us every day in baskets and otherwise laying in bed talking, making each other laugh, sending messages to the baby when he was awake to see what he’d do. And honestly, the baby never did much, but it made us laugh to do it.
And sex, obviously a great deal of that as well. But honestly, it blurred in with everything else we did, a usual part of the day as we napped, and went swim and laid out in the sun. The entire time it was just…so natural, and so easy. Just Roger and I simply together, away from the world.
And it was wonderful. But after the second day, we knew we had to get back – because as much as we like each other, we like our lives too.
“We’ll do this again, yes?” Roger murmurs, pulling me close outside the little bungalow after we’ve packed and locked up. “Next week?”
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