A/N: short, i know. and im sorry it took so long. i have problems with separation and things ending. :-) so anyways, this is very short, but i think it gets the point across. so thank you SO much to all the readers and reviewers. i love you all! this is the first story ive ever finished (that summer is still in progress, almost done) so yay! im excited. :-)
He slid his hand over her side of the bed, reaching for air. Her sheets were cool, showing that she hadn't been in them for a little while. She had been doing this more and more, getting up in the middle of the night.
He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the floor beside the bed and pulled them on over his boxers before walking out of their bedroom. He walked down the small hallway of the penthouse to the room they had designated as the nursery, as soon as she was born.
She. Shortly after they had come back, Rory nonchalantly mentioned over a Chinese dinner that she wanted to know the sex of the baby, and so they went. Rory had nearly burst into tears when the nurse came in with the news and she had been sitting in here for a while every day since.
He found her sitting in the rocker they had picked out, gently gliding back and forth, her hands placed on her stomach over the short silk nightgown and robe. "Hey," he said softly.
She looked up and smiled at him. "Hey."
He walked to her and nudged her out of her seat, sitting down in her spot so she could situate herself in his lap. "Do you know what I think?" she asked.
"What?" he asked, smoothing his hand over her bulging stomach, showing her being six months pregnant.
"We should paint it green. It's prettier than pink, so our little girl won't have to grow up in a bubble gum hell."
He smirked, "If that's what you think is best."
"It is." She nestled deeper against his chest, burying her head in the crook of her neck. "One more week," she said excitedly.
He had proposed properly almost instantaneously upon their arrival back to his flat, giving her a small, perfect diamond ring that he knew she would love. She chose to get married while she was still expecting, opposed to having the baby first, then walking down the aisle. She held her position to that of she wanted to be able to tell her little girl about the wedding, not the other way around.
"One more week," he said softly, kissing her cheek.
And so, amidst the anger and bitterness of their original foundations of a "relationship" they found each other. The good, the bad, everything was accepted with only a small bit of hesitation, needing only a fraction of reassurance and consolation. They were ready, they were together, they were perfect.
Their relationship was no longer a hologram, a mere figment of what may be, what they wanted, but real. Which was more than either of them could have asked for.