25. Allie
ALLIE
“You did great today, Allie.” Sofia, my dance instructor, smiles as she wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead. “I’m glad you’re still coming here.”
“It really helps with the stress.” I laugh half-heartedly. “Thank you for helping me work through some of those low-impact moves and readjust my routines.”
I’ve been dancing my entire life—I began with ballet as a child, then participated in a contemporary team in high school. Now that I no longer dance competitively and it’s strictly for the passion and stress relief it gives me, I’ve gravitated toward pole.
It makes me feel sexy and feminine and strong. All sensations I’m in desperate need of, especially now that I’m halfway through the second trimester of this pregnancy.
I can’t hide the bump anymore, and everywhere I go, it feels like the first thing people see about me—sometimes the only thing they see. None of my clothes fit anymore, I’m breaking out, and my breasts hurt all the damn time.
I asked Dr. Abbey if I could continue dancing, and she said so long as my blood pressure stays within a healthy range—which it has—and I don’t overexert myself, it’s completely safe.
Spending three nights at the studio every week has saved me from the stress and insecurity that comes with this pregnancy.
It rids my mind of the questions plaguing me at all hours, reminds me that even if my body is now simply a vessel for something so much bigger than myself, I can still own it. I can still belong to me.
“Of course. Honestly, I’m now thinking of offering maternity classes. I think they could be really beneficial for so many women,” Sofia says.
“Well, if you do, sign me on up.” I take a sip of water, watching Sofia curiously as she grins.
“Actually, I’d love to see if you’d be willing to teach a class?”
“Really?” I laugh in disbelief.
“Yeah!” She nods excitedly. “Why don’t we talk about it more after the holidays?”
“I’d love to. Thank you.” I give her side hug as we walk toward the doors of the studio. “Just let me know.”
“Will do!” she calls as we head in separate directions toward our cars.
I began dancing at Sea Rose Studio when I started college because it’s so close to campus, but now that I’m living in Pacific Shores full time, it takes a solid twenty minutes to get home after class.
I’m slightly blinded by the late afternoon sun setting in my face when I pull into the parking lot behind the boardwalk, but if I’m not mistaken, my dad’s car is sitting in the empty spot next to where I typically park.
I pull in beside it and enter through the back door of The Wicked Wildflower to the sound of two familiar sets of deep laughter.
Rather than turning toward the stairwell that leads to my apartment, I enter the cafe, finding my dad and Everett standing at the coffee bar, talking animatedly in a seemingly playful conversation.
“Dad?” I ask, bemused as I step up beside them.
He spins around, dark eyes bursting when he takes me in. “Hi, my baby.”
“What are you doing here?” My question comes out muffled as he pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly.
“I’m here to help you move.”
“Excuse the fuck outta me?” I rear back, blinking between him and Everett. “Where the hell am I moving?”
“That was a crazy way to pose the idea,” Everett murmurs under his breath.
Dad laughs easily, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not making you come home, kiddo.”
“I’d fucking hope not, considering you can’t make me do anything.”
It’s been ten days since we told our families we’re pregnant, and my parents have been advising me to move back in with them when I finish my classes for the semester.
I’m graduating college early, so I’ll be done after finals.
My plan is to wait to walk at the main spring ceremony, but I was going to spend next term applying for graduate school programs—though, I assume that future is out the window at this point.
I don’t allow myself to think too hard about it.
I don’t want to dwell on things I’m giving up, because I refuse to be anything but excited for this baby to come.
Plus, I’ve always been described as optimistic, so I’ll hold tight to the idea that I could always go back to school someday, that I can still find a career in pastry arts.
It’ll happen, just not right now.
The mantra repeated in my head, because I’ll spiral otherwise.
My mom and dad want to take care of me through the pregnancy, especially after I told them about my fainting spell, hospital trip, and hypertension diagnosis.
I don’t want to give up my freedom, though, and I don’t want to leave Pacific Shores or my job at The Wicked Wildflower.
“I know you don’t want to come home, so we thought a good compromise could be moving you into the guesthouse at Darby and Leo’s. You’ll have your own space, you’ll be close to work, but they’ll be right next door if you need anything.”
I frown. “We?”
Everett gives me a close-lipped smile, and I imagine this must’ve been Archer’s idea.
I fight to keep my features straight because I don’t want them to see the annoyance written on my face. Vexation rushes through me, and I’m forced to take a deep breath and gather my composure.
I’m frustrated that this was discussed behind my back, when they could’ve just asked me. I’d be fucking stupid not to take up an offer to live on the Graham’s property. A bathtub, a beach view, and a dishwasher? Hell yeah.
“I would’ve appreciated if you had just come and asked me instead of moving things out of my house without me knowing.”
Dad frowns. “You’re right, baby. I’m sorry. I know you love surprises, so we thought…”
He’s right. I do love a surprise.
Fetus makes me irritable, and so does Archer, but I’ll take that up with him directly.
“I know.” I smile. “Darby and Leo are okay with this?”
Everett nods. “Of course. Leo’s over there right now clearing out the living room furniture so you can keep your couch.”
Thank God. I love my pink couch.
“Well fuck.” I sigh. “Guess I can’t say no then, can I?”
My dad’s lips quirk. “Yeah, I’m sure this is a tough decision for you, Allie. Mildewy upstairs studio with shitty temperature control, or a luxurious home with an ocean view and a private beach.”
I grin. “Fine. I guess you convinced me.”
When I moved to Pacific Shores last summer, Weston was staying there, and even after he and Willow moved to Costa Mesa together, I never considered asking to take it over. I’d have felt obligated to pay them rent, and there is no way I could afford a place as nice as that.
Though… If Archer, Everett, and my dad already headlined the effort of asking for the Grahams’ permission, I’ll play the pregnant damsel and make myself right at home.
“Good. Because we already moved most of your furniture over.” Dad laughs when I drop my jaw. “Go pack yourself a bag for tonight so you can sleep over there. Willow’s going to take the weekend off to help you move the rest of your personal things.”
“God, you’re all in cahoots, aren’t you?”
My dad winks, kissing the top of my head before he and Everett head back upstairs.
I follow them, gasping when I walk in to find my apartment entirely barren.
The only pieces still left are the stripped bed, which was already here when I moved in, the tiny dining room table, and my clothing rack.
My couch, television, dresser, and all my decor has been taken out.
“What if I had said no?” I ask.
My dad barks a laugh. “I know you better than that, Allie Bee.”
I lean against the counter as Everett and Dad move around the place, grabbing the last of the furniture—end tables, a few canvas paintings still on the walls.
I pull out my phone and open my message chain with Archer. I send him a picture of my stomach every morning. He responds, asking me how I feel, if there is anything I need.
It’s caring and genuine and kind, but I can’t ever tell if he’s doing so for the sake of me, or for the sake of the baby.
I’ll never doubt for a moment the kind of father he’ll be, and there is nobody else I could imagine going through this with. I know he’ll carry us both, it’s the kind of man he is—so goddamn honorable—but I want him to be doing so because he loves me too.
Not honor or obligation or biological instinct—but lifelong love for me.
I scroll past our exchange from this morning—all of it so damn surface level—before typing out a new message.
Me
Were you the mastermind behind all this?
Archer
Your dad was, but I’m a supporter of the effort.
Me
I could’ve used a heads up.
Archer
You know the way he scares me.
I chuff a laugh, rolling my eyes. I’m still a little annoyed by his constant overprotectiveness, especially since he’s always been like this.
Thinking he knows what’s best for me, and at times, making choices without my thought or opinion.
Though, I suppose this one falls more on my dad, and the gesture is kind.
Everyone in my life banding together with my safety and comfort in mind.
I have enough self-awareness to know my stubborn nature, and the way I struggle to accept support when offered, so I guess I can’t entirely blame them.
I probably would’ve said no had I been asked, and then spent the rest of this pregnancy regretting the decision and cursing myself each time I climbed the stairs.
Archer
By the way, I read that the baby can start hearing us around this time.
Could we maybe video chat sometime this week? So I can talk to them?
My eyes line with tears as I read the question over. Little flutters kick up in my stomach, and I can’t tell if they're butterflies or my baby’s feet. I can’t tell if Archer is suggesting this so he and I can talk, or if it’s genuinely just for the baby.
It breaks my heart that I even have to ask that question.
That it feels as if we’re going through this side by side, not together.
Me
Of course. Baby and I would love that.