Disclaimer: Neither man is mine - unfortunately.
The party had past without a hitch, James and Danny were thrilled with all the gifts they had received, the years supply of disposible nappies that Danny Jones had pre-ordered for them making Dave laugh but pleasing the prospective parents no end. Neither of them liked the idea of terry nappies however green they might be. The nursery had also been a great success, not only James and Danny oohing and aahing over it but both sets of future grandparents as well. It was at the party that both of them learnt that James’ parents had bought them their pram/pushchair and that Danny’s had bought the cot that would be installed in the nursery. The cradle would take up residence in their bedroom once the baby was born.
The next couple of weeks flew by, James spending most of it alternating between taking naps and taking little walks around the surrounding streets, always being accompanied by at least one member of the ‘Lets Take Care of James’ group as he’d privately called them and followed by a group of press reporters and photographers that Richard had laughingly called James’ own private security team. He’d come up with this name after the blond and Danny Jones had been stopped and harranged by a passerby in the street. Immediately two members of the press had pulled the man away from James, while another couple had hurried the mum-to-be away from the confrontation and into a passing taxi. They’d even paid for the journey home. Since then they’d been even more protective of him.
And James knowing a good thing when he saw it made the most of the eagerness of the press to follow his every move. To that end James had let them have little exclusives in exchange for going down the laundrette for him and doing the shopping, he’d even managed to persuade one of them to drive half way across London to go and buy him some of his favourite ice-cream.
But today was different, today James hadn’t felt good all day, he was feeling off and his stomach hadn’t been hurting exactly but it had felt strange, sometimes tight, as tight as a fully inflated balloon, at others what had passed for normal in the last few weeks. Struggling up from the chair where he’d been trying to rest for the last half hour, James padded across to the window and stared out into the early evening sky, his eyes closing as another of the tightening spasms gripped at his belly. He was due to go into hospital in three days time, and although James knew that he wouldn’t be having a labour, he’d attended enough ante-natal classes to know that babies came when they wanted to and if he was reading the signals correctly, this one had decided that it wanted to come out now.