Verity hit him softly, "no he wasn't! Don't talk about him like that!" She was laughing though, clearly not being serious. The smile that broke out on his face was wide and she returned it, glad that he was happy. Hearing him call her Marlowe's mother ellicted the strangest feeling in her.
"That's because I realised how gorgeous he was and how much better at putting bags away than Terence," she teased.
"Disgruntled," she repeated as if that was the key word.
Being pulled closer was odd, it felt almost like being pushed backwards, her belly in their way. It was frustrating, but she wouldn't go without kissing her husband. When he began to touch her stomach she tensed at first, but he seemed to enjoy it and the affection was welcome. She sighed happily into the kiss, content to stay like this all day. Until her feet bothered her, at least.