Page 32 of Tangled Hearts

“We need all those things I ordered,” he says defensively, making me laugh because he one hundred percent believes it.

Dyan has gone overboard with the nursery and the things a person needs to have a baby. It's actually really adorable. We’ve been so excited for this new Chapter in our lives. I'm only four months along, and this house is so baby-proofed I can't even get into some of the cabinets around here. I wouldn’t have it any other way, though. I know without a doubt that Dylan is going to make the best dad.

I take the box from him and see the return address. Now I know why he brought the box to me. It’s from my mom. Tosay that she was upset about me quitting being a lawyer is an understatement.

She didn’t talk to me for almost a month. I’d been more torn up about it than I thought I would be. Hell, my mom and I could go months without speaking before when she was mad at me. Maybe it was seeing Dylan with his own mom. To see what could be. How a mother is supposed to support their child and encourage them to do what makes them happy. My sadness turned to anger, and then when I found out I was pregnant, it started morphing into indifference.

Dylan asked if I wanted to give it one more shot. This time, however, I didn’t call. I showed up. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I didn't anticipate her breaking down in tears. We made up for the most part, but it’s a slow build. I’m changing, and so is she. But no matter the outcome, I still have Dylan’s mom, who is going to be an all-star grandma.

I grab a pair of scissors out of my desk and open the box. I reach inside and pull out a baby blanket. It was mine. My mom had kept all of ours. "There is a note." Dylan reaches into the box, grabbing it for me.

I am looking forward to the next Chapter and all the Chapters you choose to make. I hope you let me read all the pages.

I love you.

Mom.

My eyes burn with tears. It's her way of saying not only does she want to be a part of my life, she hopes I let her. With a small nod to her saying she supports my dream of wanting to write. It’s the closest and most seen by her I’ve ever felt.

"I'm not going to cry," I sniffle. Dylan pulls me into him. I snuggle into his embrace. "Stupid hormones," I mumble against his chest.

I know a part of my mom's growth was because of Dylan. He'd been at my side when we'd gone to see my parents. He talked about his own mom and the loss of his dad.

“How are you feeling?” Dylan’s hand goes to my stomach. A small bump has popped out. I swear one day it wasn’t there, and the next it was. I love seeing it. It’s a reminder of the love Dylan and I share.

“Good,” I say through sniffles, making him chuckle.

“How about I make you feel even better?” He swoops me up into his arms, carrying me to our bed. The bedroom is no longer decorated with soft creams, but now it has touches of both Dylan's and my own. It is no longer a blank canvas but shows the life we created together.

My life may not have always been a fairy tale, but the second Dylan entered it, it became one. He is and always will be my happily ever after. I couldn’t have written a better ending if I tried.

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