I groaned and leaned back in the couch. "Grayson, can Ryder, like, be born already?" I asked, my lips curling into a pout.

"Yeah, I have no control over that," he said. "Don't worry, Flower. Two months left. Eight weeks. Hopefully. He might be born late."

"I hope not," I said with a sigh. "He kicks too much and it's getting really annoying. I'm making food, he kicks. I'm trying to nap, he kicks. I'm trying to listen to a lecture at university, he kicks. That's the worse."

"Just think, final exams are in two weeks," Grayson said. "And after that's over, we have all the time in the world...