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Chapter 26
Holland
Delia arrived at my office a half hour before the shower was slated to begin, and she found me staring into space from my seat behind my desk. I needed this pregnancy to be over. Combining soul-sucking heartbreak with zero sleep, too much ice cream, and feet that no longer fit into my favorite work shoes was a recipe for disaster.
“You excited?” she asked, walking into my office like the skinny, peppy person she was. I kind of hated her.
“Stop being so skinny.” I might have growled at her.
She gave me a frank look. “Uh-oh. Pissy Pregnant Lady is back.” I’d been less than chipper at our last dinner together.
“She’s come to stay.”
Delia plopped herself into the chair on the other side of the desk. “It gets better. You’ll be done before you know it.”
“The pregnancy part will get better,” I agreed darkly.
Her lips quirked up on one side and she sighed. “The heartbreak will get better, too. That one just takes longer.”
I dropped my eyes, watching my fingers trace circles on top of my desk. “I’m worried I won’t be able to be happy for the baby.”
“Holl.” Delia’s sympathetic tone drew my eyes up. “Your heart is bigger and stronger than you know. Having kids changes it. I promise you’ll be perfect when the baby comes. You might still be sad, but he’ll never know. Your capacity for love will totally surprise you. I promise.”
I nodded, hoping she was right. I couldn’t imagine myself smiling again without a struggle. “Guess we better get this over with,” I said, pushing myself up out of my chair with a small groan.
“Come on, grandma.”
“I know! I’m like an old woman!”
“I remember feeling that way. It’ll be over soon.”
I stopped her as we walked toward my door, clutching her arm. “Delia, why does no one tell us about all this stuff?”
“What, pregnancy stuff?”
I nodded.
“ ’Cuz then no one would do it.”
“Deel. The farting.”
She laughed.
“And the heartburn…my God.”
“You just get to enjoy every meal twice! Make the most of it.”
I poked her in the side. “No thanks.”
“Have you taken a look at your…uh…parts?”
“I can’t even see my feet,” I told her as we moved toward the door again.
“You’ll need a mirror.”
“What? Why would I do that?”
“Actually, no, don’t. I still haven’t gotten over that shit.” Delia grinned at me.
