Demyan
I flipped my hair behind my shoulders as I stared at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror of the luxurious cabin Ethan and I were staying at in Spain. Simply dressed in light washed denim jeans that were unbuttoned by the waist; simply because they refused to, with socks covering my feet I closely inspected my freckled torso. More so my stomach.
Ethan and I were entering month three of my pregnancy which meant it was truly starting to show. It made me feel awfully smug that I, husband to Ethan Jackson, was carrying his little baby. Ethan had the ultrasound picture of our baby at the back of his phone cover and whenever he got a chance he showed it to me as if I did not have the same one.
