My hand curled around my stomach. “I will,” I promised.
She bent over, pressing her lips to my cheek, and I relished in the warmth of the gesture. I lifted my arms up, half hugging her and looking at us in the mirror. The passage of time couldn’t be clearer, three generations of Bakers reflected back at me.
The doorbell rang, and Glamma said, “Right on time. I like that in a man.” She scurried out of the room. I stayed, for just a moment, to gather myself.
Even though I’d met his family and done the wedding planning and even agreed we should put in an offer on the pretty yellow house, tonight made our relationship feel even more real. Because the entire world would see us not as faces on a screen talking to a microphone but as a real-life couple. Not a two-dimensional news flash.
My hands shook slightly as I stood and walked to the living room, where Bryce and Glamma were talking. I paused in the hallway, taken aback at how gorgeous he was in his rich black tux. A smile touched every part of his face as he interacted with my grandma, who was busy fussing over his silky black pocket square.
He caught my eyes, his smile morphing into something that looked a lot like awe.
“Jada,” he managed. “You look... I’m...” He shook his head, speechless.
My grandma turned to look at me with a teary smile, then stepped back to give us a moment.
“You look, I’m, too,” I teased.
He grinned, coming to kiss me. The gesture was as natural as breathing, as warm as a mug of Glamma’s cocoa, as dazzling as a crackling fireplace.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against my lips. “That was what I was trying to say.”
I smiled against his kiss and pulled back. “I’m trying to decide if I like your cowboy boots or a suit better,” I admitted. Every version of Bryce was incredibly handsome.
He grinned. “Luckily, you get both for life.”
My heart was a puddle on the floor, and I felt just as speechless as him. That’s when Glamma said, “I need a picture of you two to send to Irma. She knows how to print them off for me.”
“I can print it,” I said, but Glamma shook her head, already holding up her phone. I was half worried her thumb was in the way, but I stood in the living room with Bryce’s arm wrapped around me, my hand on his firm stomach, as she clicked away. Her phone even made a digital shutter sound.
“Beautiful,” Glamma said.
“Can I take one with you?” I asked her. I wanted to remember this moment too.
“Oh, but I’m not dolled up,” she said. Nevermind the multiple rings on her fingers and the beautiful silken robe she wore over a matching sweatsuit.
“For me?” Bryce asked.
Of course she couldn’t say no. She came to stand by me, putting one arm around my waist, a bejeweled hand on my stomach, right where Twyla rested heavily, her presence always tangible now. It was hard to believe I was ever pregnant without knowing she was there. In a month, I’d be holding her in my arms instead.
Bryce held up the camera. “Say cheese.”
“That’s for mice,” Glamma said, a pucker to her face. “We say Chardonnay.”
I chuckled, having known the rule my whole life. Then I smiled and said in unison with her, "Chardonnay."
Bryce took the picture, and my phone vibrated in my purse soon after with the receipt of the image I knew I’d treasure forever without even seeing it.
“You two go,” Glamma said. “Have a fabulous time.” She turned toward the couch and stumbled a bit.
Bryce quickly bent to help her up.
“I’m okay,” she said quickly. “Just these old bones. Cartilage is a young man’s game.”
She joked, but I could see the pain on her face. I hurried to get her some of her pain medicine while Bryce got her settled on the couch.
“Stop worrying about me,” she said between swallows of water. “You act like you’ve never seen a seasoned woman before.”
Bryce chuckled. “Not one like you.”
