Mom places a hand over my stomach. “I’ll see you downstairs in a bit. I want to get a kick from her later.”
“Sounds good, we’ll be down soon.”
Wyla grins as she waits for my mom to fully retreat out of the bathroom and get down the hall. “And you said she’s driving you crazy…she’s precious.”
“She is. I also never said she wasn’t great, just a bit of a hoverer, major worrier, and you know…”
“A mom?” Wyla finished for me.
“Oh no, am I going to turn into her?”
“In some ways. I couldn’t help but notice that she’s also wearing a solid four-inch heel. It’s all making sense to me now.”
“No, make it stop. I can’t even have a drink while I process this news. Couldn’t you have at least waited until I had her to point this out?”
Wyla tilts her head back with a laugh. “The best I can do for you is a sweet from the dessert table later.”
“Not nearly strong enough, but I’ll take it.”
After finishing my hair, we tackle my makeup, and I opt for one of Adam’s T-shirts and a pair of maternity leggings while everything is getting set up. I’m very excited for my dress today and I refuse to spill anything on it before the party starts. I’m not sure if it’s a hormone thing or pregnancy brain in general, but I no longer trust myself with drinks or food.
I know I made the right call when that dessert table shows up and the chocolate fountain is the first thing up and running. Taste testing is an absolute must, and no one but my mother dared to comment on me constantly drenching the strawberries and shoving them in my mouth.
With everything finally perfect, I can’t help but have one more strawberry.
“Mia, dear, there’s not going to be any left for the shower,” my mother scolds.
“It’s your granddaughter. She loves them.”
“Now, that’s not fair. How am I supposed to argue?—”
Foster starts rolling around in my stomach, and I cut my mother off, taking her hand and placing it on my stomach. “Wait for it.”
Her eyes light up like they do every time. “Oh, you have all the strawberries you want.”
“If you insist.” I laugh, reaching for another, but when I look back, I see the tears filling my mother’s eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m just so happy for you. I’ve always been proud of your accomplishments, and I admire the drive you got from your grandfather and dad… And I know you love it, that’s never been a question, but I see you with Adam and carrying this baby—I don’t know, I’m happy you’re getting some of me, too.”
“Mom.” I pull her in for a tight hug. “We can’t both start crying right before the party starts.”
She laughs. “I know, I know. You go get dressed and we can cry over it after.”
“Deal.” Stepping back, I take one more strawberry for my trip up the stairs and she shakes her head. “We’ll need more of these for that cry, too.”
“I’ll have the caterer bring some more.”
“Foster and I really appreciate it. I’m going to change and I’ll be back.”
Heading back upstairs, I give my hair a quick fluff and do small touch-ups to my makeup before sliding into my pale pink dress. The soft fabric gives me the perfect amount of shape, especially with my bump.
One of the more annoying aspects of pregnancy has been the maternity clothes—I constantly feel like most of them try to hide my stomach or give this really weird emphasis to it. But this dress is perfect. I’ve held off on wearing it for this very special occasion, and now I may wear it to work every day.
The one flaw is the small dip in the back that has ties for a bow. I attempt a few times and while I get a mediocre one going, I’m not satisfied and want it to be perfect.
Pulling the strands apart, I let out a short breath. Man, I could also go for not getting winded at everything.
“Need some help with that?”
