“Are you happy, EJ?”
A sob ran through me, making it difficult to speak. I managed a big, slow nod.
Dad’s eyes were glassy as he took my face in his hands.
“Well then, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
I clutched my father’s neck and buried my head into his chest.
“I’m sorry. I never should’ve let it get this far,” Dad whispered, his own voice heavy with tears. “I may not have agreed with everything at the time, but I’m proud of you.”
I pulled back, and Dad swiped away my tears with his thumbs.
“I’m sorry too, Dad.”
Mom’s cheeks were wet too, even though she was smiling bigger than I’d seen in years. “How far along are you?”
“Eight weeks.”
No one asked if Nick and I were getting married, thankfully. We were in a happy limbo I didn’t want to mess with at the moment.
“Congratulations!” My father kissed my forehead before giving Nick a side glance. I spied a small nod from Nick in response before Dad went back to his chair.
I said I didn’t need my father’s approval, but I always needed his love. My heart was full and at peace because, now, I finally had both.
JACK’S GRANDPARENTS ASKEDif they could take him overnight and I agreed. A nice dinner date with Nick sounded wonderful—until I started trying on clothes. After two weeks of feeling good enough to eat full meals, I filled out in a big way. Out of the seven pairs of pants I owned, not one fit. I tried to fashion a rubber band buckle, and even that didn’t work. I’d heard you showed much faster with your second baby, but my first baby was almost seven. This pregnancy was so far from my last one; it shouldn’t even count.
Tops weren’t much better. I grew two cup sizes overnight it seemed, and any nice blouse I had played peekaboo with my generous cleavage. I was bursting at the seams from every angle, and my frustration was close to tripping my pregnancy tears.
After letting out a long, defeated sigh, I reached for a pair of black leggings from my drawer. I managed to pull them up without breaking a wrist. Even though I was at the stage of “pooch or pregnant,” my problem was still the same. I had no clothes. Even my dresses clung too much to all the wrong places.
I traipsed across a floor littered with pants I wouldn’t be able to wear for at least the next seven months, in search of a shirt that covered my now ill-fitting bra.
I had given Nick his key back and uttered a curse as I heard the lock click.
I cringed and dropped my head to my hands. I wasn’t presentable for anywhere nicer than our pizza and wings place up the block.
“Ready, Ella-Jane?” Nick called before the door shut behind him.
“No!” I groaned as I fell back on my bed. Maternity clothes shopping was going to have to happen sooner than I anticipated. Like tomorrow, unless I was going to work in stretched out yoga pants and one of Nick’s T-shirts.
Nick strolled into the bedroom, snickering at the litter of clothes around the bed.
“Rather clean out your closet instead?” Nick laughed.
I narrowed my eyes.
“No, look at this.” I stood from the bed and pointed at my belly. “I’m not even ten weeks, and I’m already blowing up.”
I sighed at Nick, looking so damn good in black pants and a gray button-down shirt rolled up to his forearms.
“I’m sorry. Maybe next weekend after I get some clothes that actually fit—”
The cocky grin faded from Nick’s face. His whiskey-colored eyes looked almost black as they raked over my body. After twinging in disgust in front of the mirror for the last two hours, there was something in his gaze I didn’t expect. Heat. Scorching, pooling-in-my-belly-and heading-lower-without-even-touching heat.
Along with unreasonable weepiness, pregnancy also gave way to my teenage boy level hormones. The air crackled between us as my skin broke out in gooseflesh.
“I . . . I don’t think you can take me out looking like this.” A nervous laugh rumbled in my chest as something made me cross my arms, covering my full breasts that now felt even heavier.
