Page 31 of Love You Too

She’s right, but I’m in denial. I don’t want to believe the cute pants will no longer fit me in a few short weeks or months. I feel like doubling down on the most outrageous, tight outfit I can find that looks like a million bucks on me. Then I’ll dare my disobedient body to grow so big that I can’t wear it.

“I know I’m being ridiculous,” I say, accepting the boring black dress. “I don’t even need to try this to know how it will look. I have three like it at home.”

“So why are we here?”

She looks at Dash, who has been quietly hovering in a corner of the store and saying nothing. He motions to another rack, encouraging us on.

“Because I’m a bundle of nerves. And if I can find somethingcute to wear today, maybe I can convince myself I’ll be able to juggle my current workload and the job of being a parent. I know it makes no sense, but that’s who you’re dealing with.”

“I kinda like her,” Mallory says, swiping a pair of dark jeans from a rack and checking the size.

“Seriously, how am I going to do it all?” I hate the way I’m emotional and whiny at the same time.

Dash’s voice booms from the corner. “…Asked every working mom since the beginning of time. You’re an excellent multitasker. You’ll kill it.”

“What he said,” Mallory seconds.

I wander to a display of cowboy boots and choose the tallest pair, running my fingers over the three-inch stacked heel. When I look at Mallory for approval, she shakes her head.

“Your feet are going to swell, and your center of gravity is going to knock you right off those heels and onto your face.”

“You’re making this all sound so very appealing.”

She joins me at the boot display and takes the high-heeled pair out of my hands, replacing it with a pair with a lower heel. “These are cute. And it’s going to be fine. You’re just resisting because it’s scary.”

“But I want to be able to wear these pants,” I whine, looking at them in the mirror. Then again, I don’t love the color. And they’re tighter than any of the pants I normally wear. “I know they’re impractical, but they fit me right now, and I kind of want to stay in the now.”

“You can. You should. And if you want the pants, get the pants. Just realize you’ll need to put them away for a while when they don’t fit.”

From out of nowhere, a sales clerk swoops in, holding two pairs of jeans on hangers. “Do you ladies need anything? A different size?” She hangs up the jeans and surveys me in the leather.

“Ladies?” Dash growls from the corner. “I’m here too.”

“He’s here too.” I point and smile at him gratefully.

“I love the pants,” the sales clerk says, surveying me. “Do you want to try them with a lightweight sweater?” She gestures to a rack of pale-colored sweaters that all look a little short.

“Are these crop tops?” I ask.

“Yes, that’s the style now. It’ll look so cute on you to show a little skin.” She points to my midriff, and my eyes flit to Mallory, who is stifling another laugh.

“We’ll think about it. Thanks,” she says, shooing away the unhelpful helper.

“Okay, just holler if you need anything.” She straightens some jeans on a rack and goes behind the register.

Mallory takes the midriff-bearing sweater and shoves it back on the rack. She signals to Dash, who approaches from his corner. “If you want to get these pants, get the pants, but let’s talk about what’s really going on here. You’re nervous about telling the father, and you’re about to commit a fashion crime to deal with it.”

I slump against a rack, suddenly light-headed. She’s right—I’m overwhelmed, scared, emotional, and I hate feeling out of control. This isn’t how I planned on becoming a mother. I know we don’t always get to choose how things happen, but I like a plan. I like being prepared, and I feel betrayed by my own body for making this decision without me. A part of me wants to tell Ren right this instant, and an equal part wants to run away and enter the witness protection program.

“I’m a planner,” I whisper. “This wasn’t my plan.” Tears spring forth of their own accord.

“I know, sweetie. I know.”

She and Dash escort me out of the store, and Dash goes down the block for ice cream while Mallory sits with me on a bench. I feel torn, unsure I really want to talk to her about Ren. The shopping was one thing, but this is personal. She’s not the likeliestfriend in this scenario, but we did grow up together. Plus, Dash really loves her, and soon she’ll be family.

Mallory must sense my hesitation. “Listen. Do you remember on my fake wedding day when I was freaking out because I was in love with Dash, and I didn’t know what to do about it?”

I nod, grateful to her for putting another image in my brain besides the thought of myself waddling through an unfinished inn with a five-months-pregnant belly.

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