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Bella steps out from behind the counter and ditches the duster on top of it. She presses her hands in front of a Donna Reed-style dress complete with poufy petty coat and apron. The entire outfit is layers of black, an ink colored blouse with ebony buttons trimmed with charcoal lace down the front and tucked into a wide stone colored belt. A thick, black on black striped circle skirt stopped just below the knee. Coupled with black stockings and heels, she seems like an emo Stepford wife. There’s a shock of white hair extending from a pointy widow’s peak. It’s twisted into her victory curls, pinned to her head, with a loose ponytail hanging in the back.
She eyes me wearily, then my bump. “And who is this?”
“This is my wife,” Sean says it with pride. “And the reason we came here is that you’re the best and she requires something a little different. We need it fast.” Sean practically growls the words.
Sean’s old demeanor donned like a suit. Oddly enough, it still fits him. That swagger, the roughness to him coupled with the icy eyes speaks volumes. It finally dawns on me that, while I can see a softer side to Sean, he can still flip to dark mode. There is no apprehension while he does it either. Sean’s lean body is poised, rigid, one hip against the black counter with the gray granite top. His other arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me like his possession.
Bella cocks her head to the side, places a manicured hand on her waist. “Well, then, let’s get started. Exactly what are you looking for? You know my specialty lies more toward macabre than,” she pauses and flicks a dark eyebrow high as she eyes my outfit, then returns her gaze to Sean, “that.”
“Maternity stores don’t have what she’s looking for. We want an entire wardrobe. Whatever she wants.” Sean’s voice is firm, but I feel the warmth of his hand on my back.
“Sean, I can’t—” I glance at him, not sure what he expects me to get here.
“You should dress how you feel. You’re not polka dots and cute right now. You’re a badass. You’re a survivor. You’re someone not to fuck with. The fact that your pregnant doesn’t change that. What would you be wearing if you weren’t with child?”
I smirk. Sean flips to formal mode sometimes, like he’s at prep school. “I don’t know. Black. Leather. Thigh high boots. A thick jacket. Nothing bright. And not that.” I point at Bella’s outfit.
Bella slips her tongue over her teeth revealing a silver barbell before she laughs softly. “What crawled up your ass, honey?” She glances at Sean and lowers her false lashes and smiles with those huge painted lips. “Oh, right. I’d be bent out of shape too.”
Sean gives Bella a look that makes her retreat behind the counter, but I don’t want him defending me. Something inside the foggy mess of my mind sparks to life. “Listen. I get it, I’m just not into that—”
“Era?” Bella says surely, her neck long and her chin up. Proud.
“No, beavers. You may use that whole Leave it to Beaver outfit as a calling card, but that’s not what I want.” I feel feisty. I think pregnancy hormones are making me bitchy but I’m not totally certain since Sean is suppressing a grin.
Bella snorts. Touches a hand to her hair. “Then what do you want, Barbie? Because I’m not here to play dress up with the knocked-up version of Rainbow Brite.”
I laugh. Loud and hard. It makes me wince and put a hand on my belly. I glance at Sean, “Anything?”
“Go for it.” He backs up and lifts himself onto the counter, legs hanging over the edge. “Leather, suede, knit, lace, whatever you want, she can make.”
A smile spills across my lips. There’s a strange ache like I’ve not used those muscles in a long time. I rub my palms together and walk over to Bella, “Come on emo Mary Poppins. Let’s get this baby mama feeling more like herself.”
Bella eyes me, her lips in a crooked grin, before she glances back at Sean. “It’ll cost you, Ferro.”
He lifts a hand, waving her off. “I wouldn’t expect any less of you.”
CHAPTER 4
SUNDAY AFTERNOON
It’s strange how clothes can make you feel like you. Or someone else. Someone completely different. The happy crap from the maternity stores was strangling me. It’s not that I’m not excited about the babies. I am. It’s just I don’t know how to live this life I’ve been thrust into. There’s a permanently damaged part of me, and I have no idea what to do with it. But it rears its head and vomits at pink polka dots and ruffles. Whoever decided that pregnant women all wanted to look round and cute was insane.
This is a million times better. More me. A mix of past and present. Darkness and light. At first, I was hesitant but Bella made a few suggestions. Take this in here, let that out there. Combine this fabric with this metallic thread. I’m hooked. I didn’t know clothing could be so customized. It’s not just, “put these shoes with this skirt.” No, my outfits are as different as Bella’s emo Betty Crocker get-up.
A few alterations later, and I’ve found my new look. Freedom from cute and perky. Bella altered a few pieces while I was in her shop. My favorite, the one I’m wearing now, was a full-length black croqueted corset. It originally stretched from bust to hip, but Bella cut it off above the waist, just under the bust, right above the swell of the baby bump. Other things were done to increase comfort and my everchanging body. She replaced the steel boning with plastic, added thick elastic side panels, and cut away some of the stiff fabric. Those flexible panels are hidden by my arms, but the texture change on the sides is interesting to look at too. It’s pretty. In a badass way.
Bella made the corset curve easier to my figure. I don’t feel crushed like I did the last time I wore one of these. Finally, Bella added a stiff seam to the hem so the plastic boning won’t jab into the babies. She pulled the leather straps used to lace the back of the corset and replaced it with a metallic silver ribbon. Two pieces of lace were tacked onto the shoulders, making a cap sleeve at the top of each arm. No ruffle.
The way she made this outfit will accommodate me up until I have the babies and then after. She also said a corset will feel good after they’re born, so I ordered a long-waisted one for later.
Bella shoves a pencil behind her ear, and tugs at the measuring tape around her neck as she looks over her creation. There’s a knowing smirk on her lips as if she already knows what I’ll say. There’s a confident tone in her voice when she asks, “Well? What do you think?”
I’m barefoot in her back room wearing the modified corset with an A-line skirt that flares above the knee. There’s a pair of gray and white Chucks on the chair behind me, the type that laces up the calf all the way to the knee. There’s a long silver streak up the back of the heel. It glitters slightly.
Pressing my lips together, I repress a smile as I glance in the mirror, then at the sneakers. The woman in the mirror isn’t the old me. She’s not the Avery that never knew Sean. That girl is gone. At the same time, she’s not the new me either. I’ve landed somewhere in between. It’s “Preggers Avery” with a dash of darkness and a smidgen of glitter. I’m an emo pregnancy unicorn. The thought cracks the smile across my face.
“Fuck, yeah. Called it.” Bella raises her hands in the air and then snaps.
Grudgingly, I nod. “Yeah, fine. You nailed it. One look in the mirror and I want more. This is amazing. I twist at the waist and I’m not stuck. The garment moves with me. I can move! And…this,” I run my fingers over the corseted top, tracing the slick dark fabric. “I love it.”
Bella grunts with approval. “Good, then let’s take care the rest of this. Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean you need to ignore all that.” She gestures toward my bottom.
I look down at the skirt that’s hiding my huge granny panties and frown. “No one makes pretty maternity panties.”
“I do.” Her dark eyebrow climbs up on one side as she folds her arms over her chest. She sighs and lifts a finger, pointing at the undies beneath the skirt. “And you’ll burn those as soon I get my knickers to you.”
“If they can deal
with the bump and my ever-growing ass, sure. But if they don’t stay put and crawl all over the place—” I’m making a face as I relive some sexy items Sean bought me before the babies came into the picture.
Bella scoffs, “Nothing will crawl all over you unless you want it to. So, butterfly, crotchless, tear away, snaps?”
“What?” I stare at the woman like she has two head.
“Oh, dear God.” Bella pinches the bridge of her nose for a second before sucking in a deep breath and then looking up at me with a deranged grin. “I’ll make a mixed lot for you.”
Raising a finger, I open my mouth to tell her that function outranks form, but she cuts me off.
“I know. Comfort and function are musts.”
After that, we went back into the supply room where she had bolts of fabric in a million shades of black to dark gray. I point at a few and then she takes a few more bolts of fabric from below the counter. As she piles them up on her workspace, she snatches a bolt of leather, takes her sheers, and cuts off a piece. A few measurements later and I’m wearing a leather A-line skirt. It’s high waisted so it bumps up against the corset top. She pulls a pair of Mary Janes with silver tipped toes and slips my feet into them.
“What about the Chucks?” I ask.
Bella shrugs. “These are for when you can’t stand the thought of lacing those up.”
Peering down at my silver-toed shoe, I twist it one way and then the other. A smile spills across my lips. Perfection. The clothing matches my mood. I can move. I can breathe. I feel dark and light. Maybe a bit shiny. And it’s okay.
CHAPTER 5
Sean’s fingers are laced through mine as we walk down the street. “Goth pregger chick” and a Ferro. Life as it’s meant to be. The corset has my boobs so high that it makes my figure look super curvy. I feel like a goddess even though I’m stretched and have a round belly poking forward. The skirt drapes over the twins, showing them off rather than concealing them with ruffles or pleats. I left my hair loose, long dark curls hanging down my back.
Sean looks me over, squeezes my hand before saying, “You seem like you feel a little better.”
I nod. “I do. Thank you. I was a little concerned when we first went in there.”
He laughs. “I know. I saw your face.”
I bump him with my shoulder, but he doesn’t move. The man is a wall of muscle. Repressing a grin, I squeeze his hand harder, jerk his arm a bit. Then I lean in and whisper, “I can’t believe you can still surprise me.”
“I can’t believe you can’t believe it.” Sean laughs. It’s that rich deep sound that makes me want to curl into him and never let go. “We tend to shock the hell outta each other.”
