Page 205 of Wicked Brutal

Cat looks at her. “Why not?”

“Because pregnant women are allowed to have waists, Cat.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t.”

“You were thinking chiffon.”

“I like chiffon!”

“I know. It’s honestly becoming a problem.”

Penny laughs. I don’t. Because they’re actually doing this. They’re planning around it. Around my baby. Around my body changing. Around me still being here.

“You guys.” Three faces turn toward me. “You’re seriously talking like I’m going to show up pregnant.”

Becca frowns. “You are pregnant.”

“I know.”

“Then I’m confused.”

“I mean…” I stop. Because I don’t know how to explain it without sounding insane.

Cat gets there first. “You mean like everyone will know.”

I look at her. “Yeah.”

The word barely comes out. Everyone will know. Not someday. Not theoretically. I’ll walk into Edgewood’s prom with a stomach I can’t hide beneath a sweater. People will look. They’ll count backward. They’ll gossip. They’ll know I was pregnant while I was engaged to Victor.

And if everything works — if Arthur gets what he needs, if we get Tobias out, if I get out, if my father can’t send me away, if Victor can’t fucking touch me anymore — Ryan could walk in beside me.

The thought hits so hard I forget to breathe. Ryan in a tux. His hand on my stomach. Not hidden beneath a table. Not in a locked music room. Not in Darla’s office. Not somewhere nobody can see us. Just — there. With me. With our baby. No pretending. No lying. No Victor. No father deciding where I’m allowed to stand. Just us.

I hate that my eyes burn. I hate even more that I want to believe her. So I point at the phone.

“Fine. We can look.”

Cat grins. Becca picks her pen back up. “Excellent. First order of business, we burn everything Penny has saved.”

“You are such a bitch.”

“An impeccably dressed bitch.”

“Debatable.”

“She’s right.” The voice doesn’t belong to any of us. We all look up.

Bella Whelan stands at the end of the table. Of course she does. She has a book tucked beneath one arm and looks like she was walking past when Penny’s apparently offensive prom-dress choices physically summoned her. Her eyes are on Penny’s phone.

Penny looks down at it. Then at Bella. “About what?”

“The dress.”

Becca holds Penny’s phone toward Bella. “Settle it.”

Bella looks at the phone. Then at Becca. “Why?”

“Because you have opinions.”