When you told Quint you were pregnant he was over the moon. At first the disbelief struck, he’s far too old to he having a baby. Then again, he was far too old to marry someone as young as yourself, but he did that too. You knew from day one what a wonderful father he would be once the baby came.

At fourteen weeks, you’ve finally begun to show, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by your husband. He kisses the baby goodbye every morning, and then you, and then grabs his lunch and heads off. In the evenings he pulls your sleep shirt over your hardly-rounded stomach and lays his head on it, determined to hear his kid one night.

As often as you tell him nothing will be happening in there for another few months, he assures you it will. You just rest a hand on his head and let him live out the fantasy.