“Charlotte!” I hiss between my lips.

The bridal store that my sister and Mom had insisted we come to is exclusive and serene. The woman who keeps insisting on us looking at wedding gowns that look like the meringue on a cake, will be getting a piece of my I’m-pregnant-I-don’t-care-mind, if she doesn’t stop.

Jumping up, my sister runs over to the assistant, and in a pleasant voice that speaks volumes says, “My sister isn’t into little bo peep dresses. She’s into elegant but something that of course needs it to fit and flatter her beautiful pregnant belly. You hearing me?”

Mom pats my hand and chokes back a laugh so I avoid looking at her otherwise I’ll end up in a fit of laughter.

The woman facing my sister looks flustered, but after replying, “Yes,” she rushes into the changing rooms while Charlotte grins and drops down next to me.

“Beautiful pregnant belly, huh?” I snicker.

“Seriously Sirena! That woman has no taste whatsoever if she likes all that fluff and frills. Also, how does she expect you to fit in any of them? I told the woman it was a maternity wedding gown that is needed.”

My Mom and sister know something and I’m sure Garrett has gotten to Charlotte about our wedding. I’ve discovered a side to my future husband that loves nothing more than to create amazing surprises for me. “When?”

Charlotte frowns. “When what?”

I face Mom and raise a brow. “Mom?”

“Um,” Mom hesitates.

I roll my eyes. “Garrett is planning the wedding, right? That’s why we’re here and why you’re wanting to make sure that I choose a dress that fits and so quickly.”

“You need to talk to Garrett.” She smirks, her eyes drift to something behind me. Rapidly changing the subject, she exclaims, “At last.”

The woman has reappeared with some dresses in her arms followed by another woman who is also loaded up with dresses. “As we don’t have any pregnant models, I’m going to show you what we have and I’ve tried to judge the size.”

I leave Mom and Charlotte to hunt through the dresses, but one made of a plan white silk catches my eye. Charlotte has spotted it too. She pulls it from the pile and holds it up for us both to see. My eyes light up at the beautiful dress. It has everything that I like: elegance, class and silky—and not one frill in sight.

All three of us say, “This is the one,” and start laughing.

“This has to be a good omen,” Mom adds, grinning.

“Try it on,” Charlotte urges while I’m trying to get my pregnant, uncooperative, body up from the sofa. “Here,” my sister bristles, “let me haul you up.”

If I weren’t so excited to try the dress on I’d have something to say to her, which she knows.

“We’ll help you.” She giggles and grabbing my arm drags me through into the dressing room. “We don’t have much time.”

“Charlotte,” I moan, exasperated. “I don’t have the energy in me right now.”

“Of course.” She shoves our purses to one side and starts unfastening my blouse. “Sirena!”

Mom snickers. “It’s nice to see nothing changes.” She shakes her head. “You where born bossy, honey.” Mom takes Charlotte’s face into her hands and kisses her forehead before pulling away. Mom says to me, “And you are going to make a beautiful bride, and afterwards I want you to find your sister here a nice man.”

Charlotte groans while I laugh, and lightly smack her hands away from my shirt. “I got this. You work on getting the dress out of the packaging.”

Shucking the shirt, I hang it up on a hook. I reach my hand out and rub the silk of the dress between my fingers. It feels so soft and the top layer is beaded lace.

“You going to remove your leggings?”

“Why?”

Charlotte huffs.

“Ugh, I can’t bend down to get the things off so I figured it would be easier to just keep them on.”

“You’re stubborn! You know that, right?” Charlotte crouches in front of me, taking my leggings with her.

Grinning, she steadies me as I step into the dress that Mom holds, and once it’s up and fastened, Mom starts crying. “Beautiful,” she mumbles.

Charlotte for once is speechless.

I turn and face the mirror and can’t believe how perfect the dress is. There is a satin band across my breasts, and then the dress is fitted over my baby bump and partway down my thighs where the dress fishtails out around my lower legs to the floor. There is a beaded lace overlay that sits over the dress from beneath my breasts to where it fishtails. It’s pure elegance and I know I won’t be leaving the store without it.

“You look like a princess.” Mom wraps an arm around me, resting her head on my shoulder. “Your father is going to cry when he sees you.”

“So will Garrett,” Charlotte adds wiping at her own eyes. “Gah . . . I can’t believe you’ve reduced me to tears.”

“I can’t believe how right it feels this time,” I confess. “I want and need to be near Garrett all the time. Sometimes I have to stop myself from asking him to take me to work with him.” I chuckle softly, the happiness radiating from me.

Mom smiles. “Oh, honey. I still feel like that about your father. He was all work until he met me, and then he didn’t really know what to do with me.” She smiles fondly. “You’ll get used to it, but isn’t he starting to pass things over?”

“He is, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he seems really happy to be doing so, I’d worry that I was forcing him in someway. But he is genuinely happy to be freeing up his time.”

Mom takes my hands. “He’s a good man, Sirena, and I’m sorry that I didn’t support you at the beginning. It was a shock to realize that he is closer to my age than yours, but at the end of the day, I can see how much he loves you, and how much you love him.”

“Thanks Mom. That means a lot.” Kissing her softly on her cheek, I take one last look at myself in the mirror before I turn and let them help me out of the dress and back into my clothes.

“I’ll take this to the sales woman who can help us select some shoes and accessories,” Mom says, leaving me alone with Charlotte.

My sister looks whimsical as she watches Mom leave before she deeply inhales and forces a smile. I watch her closely as she helps me dress, and then I gently hold her arms and push her into one of the chairs in the room. “We’re not leaving until you tell me why you look so sad?”

“Sirena, I’m fine.” She tries to get up, but I give her the don’t-mess-with-me look so she settles back into the chair. “I really am fine and I guess that I’m a little jealous if I’m honest.” She takes my hand in hers. “Growing up it was always you who had these big ideas of a wedding. Of getting married to the man who’d love you like Dad does Mom. Whereas I was always the one who wanted the big office at McKenzies with our brother, Michael. We both finally have what we dreamed of, except, I think I want more. I think I want what you have.”

I sit here surprised and wonder what to say next to make her smile again.

“I don’t know how to relax or meet the right guy. Even when I go out for drinks with Michael or Alex, I’m always passed over for the women with curves and big boobs.”

Giggling, I try my best to hide behind my hand but it doesn’t work as she gives me an evil look. “I’m sorry,” I apologize. “But one, why would anyone hit on you when you’re sitting with our brother, and cousin? And, you completely underestimate yourself. There’s nothing wrong with your boobs, or your figure for that matter. You need a make over though.”

“What?” she mumbles.

“You need to wear sexier clothes,” I point out.

“I’m an architect, Sirena. I can’t walk around in sexy clothes.”

Rolling my eyes, I tug her from the seat. “C’mon before Mom comes looking for us . . . and yes you can wear sexy clothes.” I grin. “I have a plan.”

“Why does that make me nervous,” she grumbles.

“Don’t be silly.” I grin as we leave the dressing room. “This is going to be fun.”

“I thought that you’re supposed to be resting.” She raises a brow.

“I can rest in the store with Mom while you try clothes on.”

“Oh God! Mom as well? I’m going to have no chance am I?”

“None.”

“Why are you grinning so much and why are you,” Mom glances at Charlotte, “looking like you’re heading in front of a death squad?”

“We’ll tell you once we leave here,” I reply, and then whisper, “these walls have ears.”

Mom glances over her shoulder. “Yes, they do.”

The store assistant hovers in the background with a fake smile on her face, probably waiting for us to pay so she can count up her commission on the sale.

Thirty minutes later we’re in Mom’s car with the air conditioning blowing directly onto my face after the heat had become too much during the two-minute walk from the store.