Ah, thank you very much.

I downloaded this and for some reason, it's not working.  You do put it in the downloads folder, right?  Or do the sims have to be running for the animation to be used?

Ah, thank you.  I'll download it and see if it works.

CEP? Please explain, I'm not very technologically informed.

After I got Freetime, I loaded up my game, went to buy mode...and wanted to die. Everything was gone. All my custom content was nowhere to be seen. When I went to some of the sites to redownload, it said that the files were already in my downloads folder and, lo and behold, they were. Certain things, like clothes and mods and the such, are still there and work, but from buy and build mode I can't find any of my custom downloads. Would installing the Freetime patch help with this? I meant to but kept forgetting.

[/b]

I grimaced at the way too sugary bubblegum photo in the personal ads and wondered how Alex had talked me into this. Sighing, I set the paper aside and stretched out on the deck. “Young, happy gay couple,” I mumbled with a smile. “All that’s missing is your bastard.” I drew away from the word and shook my head.

I wondered how Alex had talked me into it, what kind of round-about way he’d phrased it so I wouldn’t outright say, “Yes,” but I’d say, “Maybe,” or, “Whatever makes you happy, sweetie, dearest, honey-pie.” But that was true. Most times, if it made Alex happy, I was happy. If he was happy then I was ecstatic.

“Hey, Thierry.” I jumped and turned, smiling at hearing him laugh. He hadn’t for at least two weeks. Anything that even resembled a smile or laugh was enough to make my day.

“Alex,” I sang, nodding at the paper in front of me. “How you did it, I don’t know, but we’re in the paper and it’s not a controversy. Yet, at least.”

He rolled his eyes at me and smacked my arm. “Well, if someone comes here again don’t say ‘Screw you and everyone else in this intolerant town’,” he mumbled, picking up the paper himself. He smiled wistfully and cocked an eyebrow. “Where’d you get the photo?”

I rolled my eyes and blushed. “It was the, uh”—I laughed—“day after our Union.” He hissed and smiled.

“Very nice! Lying about your age like a true woman.” He grinned, turning back to the paper, scanning the text underneath, making sure everything was right and that no one had messed with it. He checked our phone number and address two and ten times. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

I shrugged. “Depends on the teen pregnancy rate, along with how many of them decide to actually give it up for adoption.” Which wasn’t many, I’d found. There were two or three pregnant in my English II class alone, though through the snippets of conversation I’d heard, they all talked excitedly about baby clothes and cribs, and I would quietly fume in the corner. Of course, who was I to tell them to give their child up? They’d worked hard to make it, so why not keep it, and it didn’t seem as if it was going to ruin their lives like all the Health class videos showed them. Mom and Dad would have open arms when it came to the screaming, pooping bundle of joy. God forbid they give it to someone who actually wanted it. Especially a couple of f—

“Thierry.”

I jumped again, jolting back to attention. Alex watched me amusedly. “You zoned out,” he said, kissing me on the forehead.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Just thinking.” He nodded and laid down t my feet, his hands on his stomach as he watched the sky. I wondered what he was thinking, watching the clouds go by. I looked up too, waiting almost.

Maybe a kid would drop out of sky.

^^ Yeah, I know. I'd had that last line hanging around in my head the entire time I was writing.

Thank you very much for the comment.

 
Wow! Thank you, guys. The second part (and hopefully pictures) will be up soon. I haven't been able to play for a bit, but I will definitely get on with the story. I'm really excited about it.

There will be pictures up soon, promise. I had this story lingering around for a while but never had the time to upload it. This is for my friend's cousin and his husband, who will be adopting soon. Good luck!
 
Note: The narrator is male, to reduce any kind of confusion. Sorry I don't mention his name just yet. I haven't thought of a fitting one. If anyone has any suggestions, that would be lovely.



“Yes…yes, thank you.” I bit my lip, the girl’s voice now nothing more than an unintelligible hum in the background. She said the same thing, over and over and over. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I nodded, sighing deep into the phone. Somehow I wanted her to feel it.

“Well, thank you for calling.” I kept my hand on the receiver, not sure what I wanted to happen. I did know, however, that I didn’t want to turn and see that face. His face. His sad, disappointed face. I rubbed the back of my neck and closed my eyes tight. It was better to get it over with. He knew what was coming.

I walked to him where he sat on the couch, looking up expectantly. My heart sank, seeing his gorgeous brown eyes. How could I..? Sitting in front of him on my knees, my lips quivered. “She’s keeping the baby.” I spat it out quickly and averted my eyes. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t watch him catch the words and understand, slowly, that, once again, we’d been denied.

Though I didn’t look, I could feel it. He moved slowly, his legs moving from the floor up to the couch, his hands moved to his face. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, repeating the girl. The words tasted sour and dirty. He shook his head and bit his lip hard.

“Why?” he asked, wiping at his eyes. I shrugged.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, taking my place beside him. “She didn’t say.” He nodded, his hands dropping back to his lap. With a deep sigh, he stood and brushed a hand against mine. I was surprised. That was the least he’d ever said when we’d been turned down. Of course, I suppose such things become easier when they’re almost an average thing of your day-to-day life. What did I expect him to say? It wasn’t as if we could demand the child.

I didn’t look for him. I knew where he was, but I left him to his grieving. This one had nearly been set in stone, or so we’d thought. Three months. That’s what we’d had left. Three months, and we would have had a little girl. We’d picked out names, we had clothes and he, Alex, my love, my life, had spent days setting up the nursery. He’d picked out the rocking chair, he had a teddy bear for her. It was all there. But she wasn’t.

It was hours before I saw him. He sat in the rocking chair in the nursery. He looked out the window, only looking up when I walked in. “Hey,” he said. His cheeks were red, his eyes glassy. I wondered how long he’d been in there.

“We were so close,” he said, shaking his head.

“I know.” I walked to the middle of the room. He wanted to put all kinds of pictures on the walls. Of us and her, baby pictures, her first little scribbles. No, I thought. Those would go on the fridge, her little pieces of artwork. Our little Picasso. He stood, from the chair only to wrap his arms around me and squeeze. I held him tight and took a look around the room.

I wondered if there had ever been a sadder sight than an empty nursery.