All Was Golden in the Sky

I tried thinking of every possible way to tell Brendon I was pregnant. I didn’t want to just do it over the phone or on Skype—I wanted to be able to hug him when I told him—and so I drove myself crazy biting my lip every time he called between or after shows, desperately wanting to let it slip and yet not.

Emily wasn’t really much help in the brainstorming; she was just tickled being the first person in the world to know about the pregnancy that all thought of how to tell Brendon somewhat slipped her mind once the novelty of the whole thing had worn off.

“Just tell him,” she told me before she left to fly back to Maryland. “Why does it have to be some cutesy thing anyway?”

“Because that’s what we do,” I said. “We make things special.”

“You make things sappy,” she said.

“We make them memorable,” I corrected. She wouldn’t understand. Her head was always too far up her ass to do anything sweet for anybody.

I still hadn’t thought of anything after she had left. I thought about asking Spencer for advice, but I didn’t actually want anyone else to know. So I thought about what other people had done in the past, or other stories I’d read about before, and decided I’d do what my parents did to let my grandparents know they were pregnant through me.

Using food.

By the time the break in the tour rolled around for Brendon to be coming home, I was getting quite a belly on me. I’d expertly whipped up a few shirts to cover my bump as best I could, on the off chance that any lingering hostile paparazzi spotted me when I was grocery shopping and dropped the bomb before I could, but nobody seemed to be around. Zack wouldn’t be dropping Brendon off until dinnertime, so as soon as I was finished at the store I sped home to get the meal moving.

I had just finished cleaning off the island when I heard the front door slam open, followed by the infectious laughter I had grown to love.

“Honey, I’m home!” Brendon called. I could hear him trip over his bags as he stumbled into the main hallway. My tummy hummed beneath my fingertips as I instinctively patted it. It felt like Baby Urie already knew its Daddy’s voice.

“I’m in the kitchen!” I called back. I snatched up the sonogram picture I had resting on the counter and stuffed it in my back pocket before Brendon made his way in, flashing him a big smile. “How was your flight?”

He smiled softly and shrugged. “Pretty good. Now c’mere.” He stretched his arms out and puckered his lips. I giggled when his lips popped against my cheek and pressed my palms against his chest to keep his stomach from touching mine.

“Hey, baby,” I giggled. I squirmed in his grasp as he tried to press closer to me, his lips still puckering and seeking out mine.

“Annie,” he whined. “Kiss me!”

I shook my head and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose before stepping out of his embrace. “Annie,” he whined again. “Baby, I missed you though!”

“I don’t want your dinner to get cold!” I said, turning away to finish fixing up his plate. I wasn’t surprised when I felt his arms wrap themselves around me settling just under my breast, and his face nuzzled into the soft tufts of hair at my neck.

“I think I’m hungrier for a different kind of dinner,” he growled. He nipped at my neck and smirked at my shiver. “So how about we just put this fine meal in some fancy Tupperware and just…”

“Nu uh, mister,” I scolded, bumping my butt against his hips to force him away. “I worked hard on this meal, so you go wash your hands and pop a squat at the table like a good little boy.”

He pouted as he pulled away, looking only slightly hurt. “You’re being weird,” he complained.

I pouted at him, mimicking his sad little face. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ve just been working on a surprise for you and—“

“Surprise?” It was like he was a dog hearing someone utter the word treat. “You have a surprise?”

“Maybe,” I replied, dragging out the word and watching as his smile spread across his face. “But not until after dinner!”

He pouted again and sighed, rolling back his shoulders as he slumped away to the dining room. “Fine.”

It was much more difficult to find foods with the word baby in it than I thought possible. I piled up Brendon’s plate with the ones I was able to scrounge up and followed him towards the table, sliding his plate in front of him.

“Where’s yours?” he asked, looking back at me when I eased my way behind where he sat. I leaned down and wrapped my arms around him, letting my fingertips tickle his collarbone and nuzzling my cheek against his.

Ignoring his question, I snuggled closer into him and nodded towards his plate. “You know how much I love themes?” I asked.

He nodded slowly, trying to look back at me with difficulty from my proximity. “Yeah?”

“On the menu tonight we have baby-back ribs, accompanied by some baby carrots, some baby peas and some baby lettuce. And, for dessert…” I slid the small jar I had kept in the fridge next to his plate, grinning when I felt him tense up. “Some tasty pureed peach cobbler.”

“Is that baby food?” Brendon asked, his voice very quiet.

I nodded against his neck, pressing a small kiss against the skin as I felt my tears beginning to prickle my eyes. “Better get used to it, mister,” I giggled. “We’re going to be having a lot of that around soon.”

Brendon very carefully yet quickly scooted his chair back, making sure not to knock me flat on my ass in his haste to stand and face me. His eyes definitely looked misty, like he had been staring into the sun too long. His Adam’s apple stuck out on his neck as he took big gulps, trying to fight off the tears that were threatening to come before he had good reason to let them fall.

“Annie?” he asked. The vulnerability in his voice was too much for me to handle, and so with shaky hands I tugged the picture out of my pocket to show him. His eyes turned wide when I handed it to him, and I wrapped my arms around his waist to look down at our kidney bean together.

“We’re gonna have a baby, Bren,” I whispered.

He was silent, eyelashes furiously blinking as he stared down at the grainy image, and with one finger he traced the faint outline of our baby, all few inches of it. Finally he wrapped one arm around me and looked down at my face, his lips caught in a quiver between smiling and uncertainty. “We’re having a baby?”

I nodded, well aware I probably looked a hot mess as the tears that were all too suddenly a common occurrence in my life turned my mascara into water colors. “You’re gonna be a daddy!”

Brendon grinned and wrapped his other arm around me, pulling me into that Urie embrace that first made me weak in the knees three years ago. I could tell he wanted to spin me around, but one of his hands dipped to my belly and he refrained. It felt so magical, feeling his fingers threading through my hair as he kissed me while his other hand ran along my growing belly, stroking it softly like he was cradling the baby’s head.

“How? Is it okay? Are you okay?” he asked when he pulled away. His thumbs brushed along my cheeks and he stared into my face, eyes darting about as if searching for any signs of sickness in me.

I nodded, wrapping my fingers around his wrists to keep myself steady. “We’re both good. We’re really good. The doctor has me on vitamins and we’re keeping good track. She says our little baby is quite healthy. And I am, too.”

In the entire span of our relationship I’d seen Brendon cry maybe a half a dozen times, not including the times he cried in laughter. It didn’t make me uncomfortable seeing the trails down his cheeks; rather, it exhilarated me, raising my level of happiness and excitement to amounts I never quite thought possible.

“I’m so happy,” he wept into my shoulder. “Annie, this is amazing. This is perfect. Fucking hell, I love you.”

“I love you,” I whispered back.

We wound up sprawled on the couch, Brendon licking off the last of the baby back ribs off his fingers as I sucked the peach cobbler off a plastic spoon. Brendon sighed happily and rubbed his hand over my belly again, adding to the sauce stain he had caused on my shirt from nonchalantly rubbing it as he ate.

“Fuck, I’m going to be a dad,” he muttered. “Shit, that’s scary.”

I scoffed and set the jar on the coffee table, Brendon adjusting as I moved to keep his hand on my stomach. “Shut up, you’ll be a great dad,” I said. “You’ll be able to sing the baby to sleep every night and guarantee the best dreams ever.”

His fingers felt so relaxing against my stomach, even though they were sticky from the rubs and catching on the cotton. He really couldn’t help himself or get enough of it; with his plate cleared and pushed away he was free to lay along the couch until his head lay in my lap.

“Thanks, babe. Maybe I should practice on you beforehand so I know which genres to stick to.”

“Maybe avoid the positive hardcore stuff,” I said, brushing back his hair as he nuzzled my stomach. “Just at first.”

Brendon pouted. “Aw, man. I fucking love that though.” He pressed another quick kiss to my belly and rolled onto his back to look at me better. “Who else knows? Did you tell your parents?”

I shook my head. “Nope, just Emily. She was the one who took me to the doctor when I kept getting sick.”

He grinned and dug his phone out of his jeans pocket. “Let’s call them!”

Brendon’s parents, for lack of a better expression, flipped the fuck out. His mom squealed for a few minutes straight before chattering on about how excited she was for us; his dad shared similar sentiments, though on a much lower decibel.

My mom, on the other hand, sobbed for a solid minute straight, blubbering about what a terrible joke I was playing between gasps. Then I started crying telling her it was true and I was healthy, and then we both were incoherent messes crying and talking about how happy we were that Brendon had to take over the phone to relay the message to my dad. I could tell Brendon was getting a little choked up hearing my dad’s congratulations; he ran his fingers through my hair to calm me down while mumbling a gruff, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

So formal. Silly boys.

“When do you want to tell everyone else?” I asked him once my sobs had subsided and our goodbyes had been said.

He pursed his lips in thought. “We could do a barbeque this weekend. Invite all the guys over.”

“And Hannah and Kara,” I said. He laughed and nodded.

“Of course. And Hannah and Kara.”

--

Sometimes it felt bizarre when my and Brendon’s worlds collided. Our friends on his side were world famous rockstars who toured all over and had their pictures emblazoned across the internet. Our friends on my side had a collective 1,000 Facebook friends and aren’t very well known beyond their high school crew.

Hannah tried flirting with the guys now that she was single, which Breezy found humorous and Linda found tiresome. Kara and her boyfriend Chase mingled by themselves, and Dallon always tried to make them feel a little less out of place. Zack was doing a stellar job of keeping Spencer smiling with terrible impressions of the guys on the tour.

And Brendon and I were nervous wrecks dancing about the grill.

“When are we doing it?” I whispered, holding a plate steady as he piled some fresh cooked hotdogs on it.

He shrugged and glanced back at the partiers. “Want to right now?”

I nodded, feeling my tummy squirm in excitement. “You do it. I might throw up if I try.”

He laughed and pecked my lips, taking the plate from me. “We wouldn’t want that.”

“Hey Brendon, you want another beer man?” Chase called, holding up a can of Bud from the cooler. Brendon shook his head, gesturing to the plates in his hands, and Chase turned to me. “Annie? You want one?”

“No, thank you,” I said, very badly wanting one but very happy I was unable to have one.

Hannah’s eyebrows shot up and she pointed an accusatory finger towards us, shifting it to point first to one of us and then the other. “What’s going on? You two always drink. Something’s up.”

Breezy had this knowing smile on, like she had already noticed earlier how the two of us hadn’t been drinking. Like I’ve mentioned before—either we both drank, or neither of us did, and since I couldn’t drink when pregnant Brendon for sure wouldn’t be either. She winked at me when my cheeks lit up in a nervous blush.

“Always the inquisitive one, Hannah,” Brendon smiled, helping me over to where the rest of the group had congregated. “Yes, neither of us is drinking.”

“Is one of you sick?” Zack asked, scrunching up his nose in disgust at the thought of vomit.

Brendon laughed and glanced over at me when he set down the hotdogs. “I mean, no, not really.”

“You’re all stupid,” Breezy said. “Seriously.”

Dallon scoffed and tugged her closer. “Whatchu talking ‘bout, woman?”

Breezy tutted and glanced over at us. I subtly nodded and gripped Brendon’s fingers tightly between mine. “She’s pregnant, idiots.”

Everyone gasped and looked over at us; their mouths gaped open, and a few of them pointed fingers at my stomach as Brendon casually rubbed his free hand below my belly button. “Are you seriously?” Kara squealed.

“Really?” Hannah cried.

We nodded, and the masses swarmed upon us. So many kisses on cheeks, so many pats to my stomach, so many squeals in my ear. Zack disappeared for a bit, but everyone else was so busy with congratulating me that none of us really noticed until he reappeared a little bit later with too big cardboard rectangles and some red finger paint.

“What are you doing?” Brendon asked warily, nuzzling his chin against my shoulder from where he sat behind me.

“I had a thought,” Zack said, tossing us the cardboard with a grin. “It’s gonna be adorable.”

“Hearing you say the word adorable makes me uncomfortable,” I said, giggling at his glare. I held up the cardboard and laughed when I say what he had penned on it. “Pregnant at the disco?”

Zack grinned and held up the finger paint. “I thought your belly could be the exclamation point.”

“Okay, that is kinda adorable,” I said.

“So adorable that all those douche mongers that said shit before will shut the fuck up,” Zack nodded, handing Brendon the bottle. “I’ll be the photographer, of course. My pictures are always the best.”

“We’re doing this right now?” Brendon laughed.

Zack just nodded, in full photographer mode. “Yup. So Brendon, you’ll be holding up the signs on either side of Annie, and Annie, you’ll just be holding your stomach—just don’t block the exclamation point. Bren, you can paint it on her, since, ya know, you’re the baby daddy.”

The paint was cool against my stomach; I knew it would probably not wash off right away, but I had to give Zack props for such a cute announcement idea. The shots he snagged looked way too cute—he got a few of us laughing, smiling, one where I leaned my head back to give Brendon a kiss.

It was the first picture of our growing family, and I couldn’t wait to show the world.