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Book 1
Chapter 1
Mia
Stomach tossing, I looked at the selection of beautiful wedding dresses. Instead of trying to decide which one I thought would look perfect to get married in, I was doing my damnedest not to puke on everything.
Pressing a hand to my stomach, I tried to breathe through my nose, hoping to calm the urge to vomit Exorcist-style.
Morning sickness was bullshit.
More like all-day sickness.
A soft hand touched my back, rubbing in soothing circles, while her other hand pushed a can of lemon-lime soda into both of mine. “Sip slowly,” my mom urged. “It really does help.”
The fizzy drink tasted good in my parched mouth, but I only took a tiny drink, scared it wouldn’t stay down. The nausea had been so bad initially that I’d ended up in the emergency room on multiple occasions just for fluids. Thankfully, I’d made it through the holiday season at home without it becoming that bad again, which for sure would have given my secret away to Dad. But he was still upset with me after what had happened with Nevaeh at the hospital while Uncle Drake had his liver transplant.
It appeared we were both unhappy with each other.
I still hadn’t completely gotten over what he’d pulled by hiring Barrick to babysit me and keep it a secret. Everyone thought it was a double standard that I’d forgiven not only my fiancé but his cousins for lying to me for weeks about their roles in my life, yet I couldn’t get past my dad’s part in it all.
They didn’t understand that I’d tried. For three years, I’d been trying, but I had a permanently sore spot that he’d caused in my heart I feared would never fully heal. I couldn’t help the way I felt about what had happened, or that I couldn’t get over Dad breaking my heart in a way that could only come from being shattered by one of the two people who were supposed to love me most.
Barrick, Braxton, and Lyla may have kept the fact that they were my personal protection—and my dad’s security blanket—from me, but they hadn’t even known me when they’d taken the assignment. Barrick’s stepfather had forced him to take the job, and since Braxton and Lyla were part of his team, they’d also become part of my secret detail. But Dad had known what I’d wanted, and he’d gone behind my back, giving me the illusion of the normalcy I’d craved. My trust in him had broken right along with my heart.
After a few more small sips, the urge to puke slowly started to fade. At least for the moment.
Giving my mom a weak smile, I handed back the can of soda and pointed to the one dress that stood out among the others. She’d set up a private appointment with the designer. It was just her and me since both my bridesmaids were back in Virginia. Lyla lived there and was planning her own wedding, while Nevaeh was getting ready to start her final semester of college.
If I was honest, I was glad it was just the two of us—with the exception of the two bodyguards standing outside the front doors of the dress shop. I remembered dress shopping with everyone when Lucy was planning her big day, and she’d left the fitting in tears. Eventually, she’d returned, but not before Uncle Jesse, Uncle Devlin, and Dad had arrived to scold Aunt Layla, Aunt Natalie, and Momma for taking things too far with the crazy, circus-like wedding. It should have been a fun day, but Aunt Layla had kind of ruined it for Lucy and made me dread what should be my own magical day.
“That one is beautiful, a little bit sexy, and will hopefully hide this slight bump that is already popping up.” Barrick had urged me not to get anything “too sexy.” I didn’t want to cause him a heart attack on our wedding day, so I’d opted to give his suggestion some consideration.
It ticked all the boxes I was going for—especially hiding the small baby bump that was quickly making itself known, even though I was only in the last weeks of my first trimester. Then again, as a dancer, I had always had a flat stomach. But even on my periods, I would get a little bit of a pooch from being bloated. With my uterus expanding to accommodate the baby, I was likely going to show quickly.
Momma glanced down at the black leggings and sweatshirt I’d chosen to wear that morning. The sweatshirt was bulky, hiding the little bump, but her green eyes still softened when her gaze landed on my belly. “I think you’re right. Paul?” she called out to the designer. “Let’s try this one first.”
“Perfect,” he said as he took the dress and carried it toward one of the changing rooms. “I just designed this one. You ladies will be the first to see it and try it on.”
“And if we want it to stay one of a kind?” Momma asked casually, but it was a moot question. If Emmie Armstrong wanted something, it typically happened. Which meant, if she wanted my wedding dress to stay mine and mine alone, keeping hundreds if not thousands of other brides from wearing the same style to their own weddings, then she would make it happen.
I couldn’t have cared less, but Momma was particular about certain things. And when it came to both my brother and me, those things only intensified.
“I’m sure we can arrange something,” Paul told her with a wink as he stepped out of the dressing room. “There is a hidden zipper and clasp at the back, but if you can’t figure it out, just give me a shout and I’ll assist.”
Typically, any number of assistants would be running around the dress shop, but because I was keeping my pregnancy a secret from most of my family—at least the ones who hadn’t already guessed—Momma had requested it just be Paul during our appointment…and then made him sign an NDA before the appointment itself. Otherwise, my impending motherhood would have been all over the tabloids before dinnertime.
The woman covered all her bases—and everyone else’s in the process. If she wanted something kept quiet, it stayed quiet. Or else.
Once the door was closed, Momma carefully took the dress off the hanger while I undressed down to the white strapless bra and matching panties she’d told me to wear that morning. The dress was a strapless white gown with woven fabric that was intricately embroidered and hand-beaded with seed beads and crystals. It had a sweetheart neckline with a bone-supported bodice and a sheer mesh panel at the center. The high-waist top sat on an overlapping skirt that had a thigh-high slit and a draping train at the back. The skirt’s layers of tulle gave it a dramatic effect that screamed it was made for me.
As I stepped into it, I helped keep it over my breasts while Momma zipped it into place. Once she was done, she stepped back, and we both turned to look in the tri-fold mirror in the corner of the dressing room.
Before I could even take in the full effect of the dress, I caught sight of the tears in my mom’s green eyes, and they instantly began to flood out of my own. I wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy hormones or just the intense, emotional moment a mother and daughter experienced during such huge, life-changing moments. We weren’t just dress shopping. We’d done that plenty of times in the past for proms and red-carpet events. This time, it was different, because it meant that when I wore this dress on my wedding day, I would no longer be her little girl, but Barrick’s wife.
“You look breathtaking,” Momma whispered.
Blinking in an attempt to contain my tears so I could see, I finally looked back at the mirrors and gasped. The dress would need a few alterations, but otherwise, it was perfect. Not only would it hide the growing baby bump, but it made me feel beautiful. The longer I looked at myself, the more I loved the dress. I began to imagine how Barrick would react when he saw me walking down the aisle to him in a few short weeks.
