Page 119 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

Sammy’s already asleep upstairs, and I’ve checked the baby camera app no less than twenty times since he went down.

It’s safe to say I’m even more of a worrier than Daire.

He pulls a beer out of the fridge and holds it out.

“What’s this for?” I fan my pits frantically.

He smirks. “For you. I think you need it.”

He’s not wrong. With a sigh, I snag it and open the drawer where the bottle opener is.

When I tip it back and guzzle it, he snatches the bottle from my hand.

“Hey!” I wipe my mouth, glaring down at the wet spot on my white tank. “What was that for?”

“I wanted you to take the edge off, not chug it.” He holds the bottle hostage against his chest, even though I haven’t made a move to take it back.

“Can’t I do both?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

This video call is one I suggested, yet when my phone rings, I practically jump out of my skin, and when I pick it up off the counter with a shaky hand, I nearly drop it.

Daire gives me a look that I read asget your shit together.

I slide my thumb over the screen to answer and prop the phone up against the fruit bowl on the island so my mother can see both of us. “Hey, Mom!” I sound way cheerier than I feel.

Her eyes are narrowed, her nose crinkled. “What’s on your shirt?”

“Oh.” I look down, pretending like I’m just noticing it. “I must’ve spilled some soda on it. I’ll change when we hang up.”

Daire dips his head, his elbows resting on the island. “Hey, Mrs. Thomas.”

“Honestly, dear,” she tuts, “we’re family now. Call me Mom.”

“Um…” He shifts on his stool.

“Mom,” I interrupt, pressing a hand to his bicep, “he’s probably not comfortable with that.”

Talk about insensitive. It probably didn’t cross her mind that it might be an upsetting suggestion to someone who’s lost their own mother, but it’s still no excuse.

“Lydia works too. Rosie, darling, I’ve got the appointments finalized. The earliest I could get them scheduled is the first weekend in February. We’re set to visit four boutiques and…” She claps, her eyes dancing. “I had my dress pulled from storage so you can try that on too.”

“Oh.” My heart sinks. At the same time, I see my face fall in the square in the corner of the phone screen that reflects my image. “That sounds… great.”

I should’ve known she wouldn’t listen to my pleas about not dress shopping. And her dress? I don’t want anything to do with it.

It’s actually beautiful—a timeless gown I admired every time I looked at my parents’ wedding photos when I was a girl. I thought she looked like a princess.

But my parents were married during her peak modeling days, and my mother was scarily thin. There’s no wayin hell her dress would fit me, and the idea of what she might say when it doesn’t makes me want to throw up.

Like he can sense the tension radiating from me, Daire puts a gentle hand over top of mine where I rest it on the countertop.

“Let’s not talk about dresses right now, Lydia. We have something to tell you.”

Before either of us can utter another word, she lets out a shrill squeal. “You’re pregnant? Oh my God, I’m going to be a grandma. Do you know the gender? How far along you? I’ll need to plan a?—”

“Mom.”

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