Do you belive in forever? (Max Verstappen)

Chapter 83

"You will get this, otherwise you know how to reach us. But I don't think you need us, after all, there's still Google," Sandy said goodbye to Max, me and Jason. She seemed to be relatively relaxed to deal with her son's farewell, even if it was only for a weekend.

The little one was still sleeping calmly in his cradle, which made it easy for us. And we had been able to get all the instructions in peace. So, Sandy and Jos could leave and Max and I made ourselves comfortable on the sofa.

Contrary to his expectations, he did not turn on the TV, but took a stack of paper and a ballpoint pen in his hand: "What are you doing?" I looked at him questioningly, because I didn't feel like reading through the thing to find an answer myself.

"The papers to acknowledge paternity and settle the matter with the last name. My lawyer sent it to me. We just have to fill it out and take it to the family office in Monaco," he said quite relaxed. But this would probably not remain, as such official documents always robbed you of the last nerve.

But Max remained surprisingly calm for the time being as I scrolled through Instagram: "Now we have a problem." Immediately I raised my head and looked at the Dutchman sitting next to me.

"We have to give the names of the children, but we don't know if they will be girls or boys and what they are called," in fact, I hadn't wasted any thought on names. Of course, everyone had their list of desired names before I was even pregnant. But now it was different from giving a doll its name. After all, the two would have to wear it for the rest of their lives.

Frustrated, my friend put down the papers, because he probably could not tick off these things as desired: "Then you probably have to wait until the summer break, because before the 12 week of pregnancy you get no answer to the gender and even in the 12 it is still uncertain. So you probably won't have the answer until the end of the first half."

"What week are you that now?" To be honest, just like Max, I had no idea. So only a look into my mother's passport helped.

"In the 9th week," I concluded through the entries, "Sorry my dear, you still have to wait." The big one could no longer sulk further, as his brother got in touch and made us understand that he was awake.

Max and I exchanged a glance: "Scissors, stone, paper?" Immediately we started, since I lost, I had to leave. Carefully I opened the door to the room of the little man who lay crying in his bed and probably had enough sleep.

"Well, are you awake little one?" Stupid question. Of course he was awake, otherwise he probably wouldn't have screamed. Since I wouldn't get an answer anyway, I took him directly to the changing table so I could put new diapers and clothes on him.

From the stench of his full diaper, I almost had to puke, but to my amazement everything remained in my stomach: "But you have done a full job for the fact that you are still so small. Where does all the shit come from, you can't even eat."

Gleefully, Max stretched his head through the door: "Well, did he do the diaper nicely?" I looked at him badly, as he was only more happy about the victory before and that he was not in my position right now.

"Instead of grinning so stupidly, you could also help me," I tried to alleviate my suffering. Only my friend didn't see it that way, after all, he had won under fair conditions.

"No," he said right away, "You lost, so it's your shit, not mine." If it was possible, I looked at him even more evilly, even though he was only telling the truth. It would probably be funny if the two rascals in me were there and none of us wanted to make the shit away. Although I could imagine that it was something different if it was my own children.

Reluctantly, I cleaned Jason and put on a new body, which was probably as little fun for the boy as it was for me. Only the Dutchman in the door seemed to enjoy the hustle and bustle.