Chapter Fifty-Eight

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At hospital, Lucy bent over the bed with Harry behind her, rubbing her back. With three months to go in the pregnancy, drugs had just been administered to her, hopefully, to stop the contractions. She got into bed with a huff and Harry waited patiently beside her. It was going to be a few hours before the drugs were going to work, but her waters hadn't broken so that was a good sign.

Lucy brushed her blonde hair back and laid on the bed. Her chest went up and down. Within her, the baby girls moved quickly, throwing themselves into her sides. That pain wasn't the concern at the moment. Harry held her hand as another passed. A doctor would've checked on them again soon, anyway.

"Names?" he asked.

Shaking her head, Lucy changed the subject, "Tell me something happy. Make me laugh."

"Um... okay." Nothing came to Harry's mind at the moment. White light just danced above his eyes. There was a buzzing sound in his head. "Well, um...."

"Faster," she hissed.

"Um...." Still nothing came to mind.

"Distract me."

"Um... um...." Why was this so nerve racking for him? "I once had a bodyguard named Jamie Winchester, and she is American. And I worked with her in war zone. There was a strike and she ended up being my bodyguard, because she was cheap and it was constantly her scolding me."

Lucy's eyes swept over to him. "That's all you got?"

"I dated a girl named Meredith once." Why did that pop into his mind? "I slept with a journalist once... or multiple times." Why did that come out of his mouth?

As for calming down Lucy, it wasn't working. Glaring at him, she huffed and wasn't calm. Harry knew he fucked up.

Harry thought about it more. "Um... do you want to know how I was going to ask you to marry me?"

"You're telling me the kitchen wasn't your original idea?" Lucy's hand slowly released Harry's, with the pain gone. Panic was still there but she needed to be calm. She needed to breathe.

"I was going to take you to the beach originally, because I know you love the beach. I know you love the ocean. And I was going to do it with flowers and candles, with the sun setting, but then I thought about dropping the ring in the sand and losing it. Or what if it was raining or it was windy? I know you wouldn't care too much, but I wanted it to be perfect.

"So then I thought about National Gallery in London," Harry continued, "and I thought about asking you to marry me in front of one of the exhibits, but then I knew you would get distracted by the history and then I'd lose my nerve. I thought about doing it in the gardens at Buckingham Palace but you have allergies and you're not a huge fan of flowers anyway. Anything I thought of, I talked myself out of it because something was always going to go wrong. I just wanted it to be perfect."

"And the kitchen came about because?"

"I had enough confidence."

Lucy laughed out right. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. I didn't want to lose my nerve so I ran upstairs and grabbed the ring and came back downstairs. It had to be there and then."

"Did I scare you off that much?"

"No, but I wanted it to be perfect."

"For you?"

Harry nodded. "I knew-- I hoped you would say yes, and that you wouldn't care how it was done. It's the same way you didn't care if the wedding was perfect or not. You care about the big picture. I wanted it perfect for me, for my confidence."

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