Page 36 of Something Like Shelter

“Oh, Mommy looks stunning,” Gracie said, turning Adelaide to face me. “Doesn’t Mommy look gorgeous?”

I pressed a hand to my stomach, feeling the compression band across my middle through the woven chiffon material of my dress.

It was a somewhat simple black gown that skirted the floor, with a gathered, banded waist and a neckline that probably plunged too much, given my concerns about my swollen breasts. But it was the dress that felt the most comfortable. After many hours trying them on and getting more and more upset in the process, I decided to take my chances. And buy a purse that was dainty but still large enough to keep a manual pump in.

It would be fine.

That had been my mantra for over a week.

It was going to be fine.

Four or five hours of my life, then it was over, and things were back to my new normal for a while.

“How are you feeling?” Gracie asked.

“Nervous.”

“Because of work people or because of the hot handyman in a tux?”

“It’s mostly work. I know how scrutinized I am going to be tonight. I’m just going to try to focus on spending time with actual clients and not coworkers.”

“Solid plan. And try to have a little fun! Eat all the food. Maybe slow dance. A few drinks.”

“I’m nurs—”

“You have a whole freezer full of extra milk. You can have a few drinks, pump and dump, and still barely touch your backup.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“And, please, don’t worry about Adelaide. I promise she is in good hands with us. And your mom is dropping over to love on her a little bit too. We have her handled.”

“I don’t doubt you for a minute,” I assured her as I reached out to touch my baby’s little toes. “It’s just going to be so weird to be away from her for so long.”

“A few hours. Not long. And maybe it’s a good thing. For both of you. Something we can try to pencil into your schedule. A Mommy Mental Health Day or something.”

“Maybe. Here and there.” It would be nice to get back to the salon or a Pilates class once in a while. But I wasn’t in a rush, either. Just something to keep in mind. “How long do I have?”

“Owen will probably be here in half an hour or so.”

“Okay. I’m going to pump one more time before he gets here.”

I was being paranoid, but this event was too important to leak through my dress and have to leave early.

I was just putting the milk in the fridge when I heard the bell.

But Gracie was faster than I was, rushing to the door and gushing over how well Owen cleaned up.

And she wasn’t wrong.

Owen stepped into the foyer.

I was of the mind that when it came to a tux, men fell into two categories: they wore it or it wore them.

Owen was wearing that tux.

It was a nice one, too. Well-fitted, pressed, and his bowtie was perfectly straight.

“Wow,” he said, his gaze sweeping over me.