Marrying a Boxer | H.S.

Chapter 84

"How about this one?" I ask Harry when I step out of the dressing room.

He looks up from his phone, nodding. "It looks great, Sweetheart," he says before going back to typing.

I let out a deep sigh and roll my eyes. "You've said that with the last three outfits, Harry."

"I just think you look great in everything, love. Also, we've been here for two hours already and I'm bored."

"You didn't have to come if you didn't want to," I say, my voice shaking and I feel tears start welling up in my eyes. "You should've just stayed home and let me come alone." As I finish this sentence, the tears start falling from my eyes, and a sob breaks through my lips.

Harry's lips part slightly and he sighs, getting up and walking up to me. "You don't like me anymore, do you? It's because I'm getting fat, isn't it? My clothes aren't fitting anymore and my feet are swelling and I'm getting ugly and that's why you don't like me."

"Hey, hey, hey," he says gently, pulling me into his arms. I keep crying into his chest and he rubs my back soothingly. "Baby, how can you say that? You know I love you with all my heart and I think you're the most beautiful girl in the world." He cups my face and makes me look him in the eyes. "Your belly is growing because our baby is growing, love. You're growing our baby inside you and your body is adjusting to him. It's a good thing that your belly is growing because that means our baby is healthy. And every time your belly grows another inch, every week that passes, we are closer to having our baby in our arms, Sweetheart."

He turns me so I can look at myself in the mirror, resting his chin on my shoulders and his hands on my growing belly. "Plus, I think you look fucking hot pregnant."

I let out a laugh, wiping my tears. "Even with my blotchy face and swollen ankles?" I ask.

"I would think you look sexy as fuck even if you had a rhinoceros horn sticking out of your forehead," he murmurs. I laugh, rolling my eyes.

"I love you, Curly. I'm sorry my mood swings are so crazy."

"I love you more, Sweetheart. And I love your mood swings... and your swollen ankles," he smiles cheekily and I turn to face him, swatting at his arm before going back inside the dressing room. I change back into my clothes, gathering all the dresses and outfits I'm taking and walk out, handing them to Harry and we go pay.

When we get home, Harry helps me bring in all the shopping bags. I sit on the sofa and take my shoes off, unbuttoning the only pair of jeans that still fit me... well, barely fits me. As my belly grows, I've come to realize that jeans are a nuisance. I always end up with a deep mark where the waistband digs into my skin. Sure, I've refused to buy maternity jeans until today, but hey, it's hard to let go of your clothes when they stop fitting.

Harry comes to sit next to me. I shift in my spot, laying down and placing my feet on Harry's legs. He starts massaging my feet and I let out a pleased hum. We stay quiet for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's company and the sounds of cars driving by.

Five weeks ago, when we went to see Doctor Melendez, she asked if we wanted to know the sex of our baby. At the moment, we still had not decided if we wanted to know or wait for a gender reveal party. We told her we were not sure and she said she would write it down on a piece of paper. She then placed that paper inside an envelope and handed it to us.

My mum and sister keep asking me if I want a gender reveal or not because they saw really cute ideas on Pinterest and they already have an image of how they want to decorate. I told them I still have not decided. They've called Harry and asked him for the envelope so they can start planning the party, but he's told them numerous times that we still haven't decided if we want a gender reveal or to find out ourselves, and to please stop pressuring us. I once heard him tell them, "with all due respect, it's our baby, not yours and we need time to make this decision." I was surprised he didn't just simply tell them to fuck off, which is what I've been so close to telling them when they ask me. I mean... I guess I could say that and later blame it on my mood swings. I remember when Moni was pregnant, there was a time when most words that would leave her mouth were nothing but curses. At Marcus, at mum, at me, at the lady crossing the street, and even at the leaf falling from the tree.