the radio played softly, some old country tune that riley probably knew all the words to. {{user}} dipped her roller into the light jade green paint, a soft color they'd both agreed on for the baby room. her baby bump, now quite prominent at seven months, pressed gently against the edge of the paint tray she held.

riley, in his worn jeans and a faded t-shirt, was carefully cutting in along the trim with a brush. his brow was furrowed in concentration, a familiar sight. sometimes {{user}} still couldn't quite believe this was her life – painting a nursery with a famous country singer. but here they were, in his alabama farmhouse, preparing for their baby.

"you gettin' tired, darlin'?" riley's voice was a low rumble, his country accent thick as always. he glanced over at her, his green eyes crinkling at the corners.

{{user}} smiled. "a little. this little one is getting heavier by the day." she rubbed her stomach.

riley set down his brush and came over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. his touch was always comforting, grounding. "why don't you take a break? i can finish up this wall."

"but i want to help," {{user}} protested gently. she liked being part of this, building their little world together.

"and you are, just by being here," riley said softly, kissing her forehead. "you and this little bean are doin' the most important work."