Page 272 of The Baby Bargain
I lean back, teeter on my heels, catch myself.
For the last three months, I've been practicing my walk. Well, walking in heels, period.
I'm far from graceful, but I can move. Ish.
Maybe I should take them off. Sure, I want to be eye to eye with Chase (well, closer to eye to eye. He does have seven inches on me). And my dress is hemmed for four inches of lift.
But there's something about walking barefoot in the grass.
It's romantic. Natural. Beautiful.
Forest's chuckle fills the room. "I'm not sure which of you is more nervous."
My cheeks flush, but my reflection doesn't show it. The entire bridal suite is mirrors. Seriously. My reflection bounces off every single wall.
She isn't the usual Ariel. With her carefully coiffed hair, her perfect makeup, and her elegant sheath dress, she's some kind of goddess.
But I guess that's how all brides feel. Even though most aren't focused on their, uh, upgrades.
At first, the fake boobs were weird. I'd catch a glimpse of my reflection and gowho's that. But it was like a new hairstyle.
I got used to it.
My entire body was changing. Like all new moms, I didn't bounce back to my pre-pregnancy body. I carried extra padding, stretch marks, loose skin.
And, well—I lost a lot of parts.
Gained these.
Once I got used to them (and let Chase drag me on enough hikes I felt fit… ish), I started to like them. I can skip a bra, run without bounce, wear dresses that screamknock-out.
Sure, the hormone changes were a bitch for a while (I'm still super temperature sensitive), but I got through it. Found my new normal.
Even with the big boobs (they look natural ish), and the less defined waist (not that it was ever slim), I love my body.
I love all the things it does for me.
All the things Chase makes it feel.
I was scared the first time he toyed with my new breasts. It wasn't quite what it used to be. The sensation wasn't there.
But after a while, it came back. Or maybe he got that much better.
He stared at my boobs even more post-surgery.
He still loves my body as much he did that first time. Not just because I'm, ahem, well-endowed.
Because it's mine.
"Ms. Ballard, you're up." The wedding coordinator peeks her head through the door. She presses her bright pink lips into a smile. Holds her clipboard against her black suit. "Your father is ready for you." She looks to Forest. "You first." Her composure breaks as she takes in his purple suit.
Sure, my brother isn't the most conventional choice for Maid of Honor, but I don't care.
After I told him about my pregnancy, he stepped up. He's been there for me and Chase and Charlotte… well, always.
He answers my three a.m. calls (there were so many the first year. Babies. Never. Sleep). He drags me to aikido (I'm still terrible). He watches trashy superhero movies with me. Dives into memories when I cry over how much mom would have loved it. (That's another thing about having a baby. I cry all the time now. I cry at cereal commercials. I cry when Charlotte tries on a new dress. I cry when I buy a new toy. It's nonstop waterworks).
"Ms. Ballard." The coordinator clears her throat. "Are you ready?"
