Aubrey #2
I check the time on my phone, which tells me that Libby, the custom dressmaker, will be here in one hour.
Right now, she’s at Hayes’s house getting Aubrey’s bridesmaids fitted for their dresses, which is something else Aubrey doesn’t know about.
I’ve already had my tux fitted, so all that’s left is my bride.
“Hey, sweetheart?” I thread my fingers through her soft pale blonde waves.
“Hm?” She looks behind the couch where I’m standing.
“Why don’t you go take a shower? I have a surprise for you in an hour.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Please tell me you aren’t having five cats delivered to us.”
I laugh, sticking my forehead to her head. “No. No more surprises like that. You’ll like this surprise. I promise.”
She smiles and bites her lip. I can see the excitement glittering in her eyes. “Okay.”
I help her stand from the couch by putting a hand to her back, then she waddles off to our bedroom. I love the way she walks now. It’s so adorable and funny to see. Her belly has lowered drastically, which means our daughter is preparing to join us.
When it first dropped and Aubrey started getting what seemed like contractions, I was worried she was going into early labor.
Thankfully, we had an appointment with Dr. Carlson that same day, and she reassured us that it was all normal.
That the pain Aubrey was feeling was Braxton-Hicks contractions, which are essentially fake ones preparing the body for the real deal.
And that even though our daughter had lowered, she wasn’t showing any signs of labor coming soon.
Forty-five minutes later, I greet Libby at the door as she comes in with two workers. One of them carries a huge duffle bag while the other brings in a covered clothing rack on wheels. “Now, where is the beautiful bride-to-be?” Libby asks once I close the door behind them.
“This way,” I tell her as I walk them to Aubrey who’s munching away on snacks in the kitchen and chatting with Antoine about dinner.
When she sees me walk into the room with three extra bodies, her curious eyes roam over us. “What’s going on, Shane?”
I walk over to her, wrapping my arm around her waist. “Remember when I told you not to worry about your wedding dress? That I had it under control and you didn’t need to keep looking?”
“Yes…” she answers skeptically.
I move around to her back, pressing her into my chest with my hands over her bump. “This here is Libby, she’s going to make you a wedding dress, exactly how you want it.”
Her eyes widen as they fill with tears. “Really?” The tip of her nose turns red as her cheeks flush.
“Yes, Angel. I knew how much this was making you anxious and I didn’t want you to worry anymore. You’ll have to thank Hailey, though, because it’s thanks to her Libby could do this for us.” I kiss her cheek where a single tear slips free.
“Oh, Shane. Thank you.” She turns in my arms and hugs me.
“Now go with Libby and tell her everything you want.” I give her a small push on the back when she releases me, and she wanders off into the sitting room with Libby and her two associates.
AUbrEY
After two hours of working with Libby and her two helpers, Jennifer and Isabelle, we say goodbye with promises to have my dress ready in three weeks.
It didn’t take long for Libby to see my vision of the perfect dress.
I could tell she was used to working with high-end divas who wanted extreme wedding dresses.
She had even brought a few samples with her to give me an idea of what I’d prefer.
But after her associates put me into the third dress, she told them to stop, sat me down, and said she could see that this wasn’t working. She took both my hands in hers, told me to breathe and then asked me to describe what I had in mind.
The problem was I didn’t have a picture in mind of the ideal dress, I just knew it wasn’t anything I was coming across.
When I told her that, she tried a different tactic and asked me about myself. What kind of person I was and even went through pictures of me on the internet. After a few minutes of scrolling, she put her phone down, smiled, and told me she knew the perfect dress.
She then had Jennifer hand over her sketchbook and proceeded to draw out my dress. Thirty minutes later, she flipped her sketch over and showed me what she came up with. And it was there, on paper, the perfect dress.
My dress.
We then carried on by choosing the desired color—I stuck with white. What material I wanted to use, if I wanted designs or details on the dress, a train, what kind of neckline, and more things. I was exhausted by the time we were finished, but also extremely excited to see the finished product.
I make my way to the kitchen, where I can smell something delicious cooking, while looking for my fiancé. The last time I saw him was an hour ago when he came by the sitting room to bring me some fruits and collect Cupcake for her walk with Annabeth.
I find Shane with his back to me as he stands in front of the gas stove, stirring something in a pan while moving his hips along to the soft blues playing on the surround sound.
All four pups are lying at his feet, except for one that’s trotting along with me.
I take a few steps closer, hypnotized by him.
I can’t believe this man will be my husband in just four weeks.
He suddenly looks over his shoulder, sensing my presence, and smiles. “Angel,” he simply says, placing down the wooden spoon to the side and turning to face me with his arms out. “Did you find the dress?”
I bite my lip and nod, a small blush forming on my cheeks as I step into his arms.
He nuzzles my neck, inhaling me, then kisses the sensitive skin near my ear. “You’re going to be so beautiful in it.”
“You haven’t even seen it.” I giggle.
“You’re beautiful in everything,” he replies instantly, then captures my chin with his thumb and finger, tilting my head back and pressing his lips to mine.
“What are you cooking?” I try to look over his shoulder and notice the little note with instructions beside the stove. “Or should I say, what has Antoine instructed you to cook?” I look back at Shane, smiling knowingly.
“Do you remember our first date?” he asks as his arms come back to my waist.
“You mean when you brought me home for the first time?” I bring my hands up to his nape. “How could I forget?” I whisper.
“I thought we could do it over again.” He grins. “With a little twist at the end and no sex interrupting our romantic dinner planned.”
“But that was the best part.” I pout jokingly.
“Later.” He leans in and kisses me before letting go and turning back to the stove. “Now stop distracting me before I burn this food, wife.”
“I can’t wait to be your wife,” I say quietly behind him.
He looks over his shoulder once more and offers me an affectionate smile. “Me too, Angel.” His eyes drop down to my necklace that I never take off then back up to my face as his eyes fill with emotions.
He clears his throat and looks away. “Wine?”
Furrowing my brows, I look down at my belly. “Umm… are you having memory loss? Is the old age starting to catch up on you?” I laugh.
He finishes stirring the pan filled with veggies, then puts the spoon back down and lowers the heat. Facing me again, he puts his hands on either side of the counter behind him.
His muscular arms strain with the action, veins popping out along his forearms. I lick my lips as my eyes roam over his broad chest, stretching out the fabric of his dress shirt. He’s even dressed fancy, while I’m wearing a simple white sundress.
“I see my girl is getting mouthy tonight.” He smirks mischievously as his eyes darken. “I meant non-alcoholic wine. I picked it up earlier for you. I thought we could try it out.”
“I’d love to.”
I watch as he pours us each a glass of deep-burgundy wine.
I’ve come to realize that Shane isn’t much of a drinker.
Similar to me, he only drinks when he’s with company, and even then, he’ll only have a glass but never more.
So, despite us having a huge wine cellar and any alcohol you can think of, it rarely gets touched.
Of course, the fact that I’m pregnant is a big reason behind us not drinking, and no matter how many times I tell Shane I’m fine with him having a glass during dinner or in the evening, he never does.
He hands one glass to me and takes the other, holding it up in front of mine. “To our wedding, our growing family, and to us.”
“To us,” I whisper back as we cling our glasses together and take our first sip, looking into each other’s eyes.
The second the liquid hits my tongue, I know I’ve made a mistake. My stomach recoils as Shane chokes on his swallow in front of me. The horrid taste spreads over my tastebuds before I can stop it, activating my gag reflex.
I quickly set the glass down and run to the sink, just in time to spill my guts out. I’ve been nauseous from time to time during the pregnancy but never to the point of actually being sick. I guess this fake wine was the exception.
Shane hurries up behind me, pulling back my hair and rubbing up and down the length of my back. I can hear all the pups barking at our feet and jump around, wondering what’s going on. “Let it out, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
When my stomach finally settles down, I turn on the tap and rinse my mouth as well as the sink. God, what a way to ruin dinner. I straighten, ready to get back to our night when my head begins to spin, and I tip back against Shane who quickly catches me.