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“Ugh. The pregnant woman should not be in charge of picking,” she grumbles good-naturedly.

“Well, it is your wedding,” I remind her.

“Hush it.” She chuckles.

“When will Owen be home?” I ask. “Maybe we should have waited for him?”

“Good idea.” She picks up her phone, taps the screen, and places it to her ear. “Hey, babe. When are you guys going to be back?” she asks. “Okay, yeah, no, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” she assures him. “Aurora is here with me. We’re cake tasting, and I need help.” She pauses. “Yes, I need help. I love them all.” Another pause. “No, we can’t have them all. I’ll see you in a few,” she says, ending the call.

“Let me guess, get them all.”

“Yep. He’s not going to be any help either,” Layla sighs.

“How are you feeling?” I ask from my place on the loveseat.

“Amazing. I still find myself not believing that this is my life.” She looks up at me with a sad smile. “How much do you know about my past?”

“Not much. Just that you didn’t have it easy, and that something happened here, in this house. Grant said it was your story to tell.”

She nods. “The Riggins family, they’re something special, Aurora. They’ve never blinked an eye when it comes to bringing me into their family. They’ve all accepted me, and that is why it’s hard for me.” She pats the couch next to her. “Grab those tissues and come sit. Owen will be here in an hour, and in the meantime, I have a story to tell you.”

Doing as she asks, I stand and take the cake samples, setting them on the table in front of us. I have a small cake of each flavor covered in the kitchen. I can cut her more later. Grabbing the box of tissues, I place it between us as I settle on the couch facing her. “I’m all ears,” I say, reaching over and placing my hand on top of hers.

“My life growing up was nothing like this,” she starts, and I settle in, letting her talk.

She tells me about her mom and her mother’s boyfriends. By the time she gets to the attack, we’re both crying, our hands full of wadded-up tissues. “You’re so strong,” I tell her.

She nods. “Yeah, but Owen made me that way. Sure, I fought to get out of there and never looked back, but it’s the way he loves me. He pulled me from my darkness. I went from having two people, complete strangers when I met them looking out for me, to a family of rowdy brothers-in-law, and two parents who I couldn’t love more if they were my own, loving me.” She pauses to blow her nose. “I never had this kind of life growing up. I never got to experience holidays together or Sunday dinners. I remember thinking about how much I was going to miss it when Owen decided I wasn’t the one for him.”

“No.” I shake my head vigorously.

“That was before I finally got it through my thick skull that he loves me. I had low self-esteem, and to be honest, it was too good to be true. From poverty to this.” She waves her hand around the house. “I can still remember the first time I stepped foot in this house. I saw a life with Owen, our kids”—she rubs her belly—“running up and down the halls. I refused to let that vile woman who gave birth to me take that dream from me. She’d already stolen so much. Owen insisted we remodel to make it look different, and I agreed. He needed it more than I did. When you grow up the way I did, it’s not the place but the people. And I love this house. Even with the renovations.” She smiles.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. In a few weeks, this little guy, he’s going to complete that dream.”

I nod. She’s been through so much, but here she is standing tall, grabbing onto the life she’s always dreamed of, not letting her fear hold her back. “My life was good. My parents loved us, and we never wanted for anything. I was always shy, and Aspen, well, she was always the outgoing one.” I pause, collecting my thoughts. “I was always the chubby one, my mom and grandma both loved to bake, and I spent more time with them than I did dating. I loved it, still do.”

“Okay, let me stop you there. Please tell me you don’t think you’re chubby?”

I shrug. “I’m never going to be model thin.”

“Aurora, you’re fucking gorgeous. You have curves. Me, I’m this stick. I’d kill for your curves. Get that shit out of your head right now. Hell, I’m hoping after little man here is born, I’ll get to keep some of the pregnancy curves.” She chuckles.

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