CINDY
Everything is changing, and I wonder if I like that or not, because up until a couple of months ago, I was cozy. I was comfortable and in love with my life, with my fiancé—my everything.
And well, now? I'm buying a dress for an event meant for rich people with my mother, looking at my phone and then at dresses so that I can find the perfect thing to match Levin's suit.
What the hell had happened? How did I wake up to all this?
Lastly, why do I not want to wear something comfortable?
Before, what I wanted was comfort. In my clothes, my shoes, my life. But right now, all I can think about is how hot I want to look.
I've never seen a pregnant woman as far along as I am get all dressed up and sexy, and all of that. And oh, God. That just makes me want to get the hottest, most uncomfortable, hugest heels I can find.
I want to be a hot pregnant woman. I want to show people that those exist.
Oh, no. No. No.
I've always hated the attention I got when I was with Tommy, but now I'm thinking about if I want to bask in it when Levin and I—
"Cindy?"
I'm so fucking confused.
My mom's fingers graze my shoulder, instantly snapping me out of my thoughts. Out of my caffeine-high thoughts.
I shake my head and smooth my hands over this plain white dress she's picked out for me. It's cute, simple. Everything I don't want.
Maybe I shouldn't have come to this. Maybe I should call my doctor too. I shouldn't be consuming this much caffeine in my current... very pregnant state.
"Sorry, sorry. I just... I want something so different from this, and I hate that. What I want to get is so unlike me, and I don't know if—"
Mom cuts me off with a laugh. "Breathe, babe. Okay? Just go look for something you like, and try it on. See what feels right."
Before I can protest, tell her it would be dumb and, quite frankly, weird, she pushes me toward the rack of dresses against the way.
It's moments like these when I wish she was a terrible parent. It would make things so much easier on me. Really, it would.
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Fifty dresses, three snacks, one lunch, and eight shoe try-ons later, we're back at the house. My parents' house, that is.
Dad's at my house, repainting one of the walls in the nursery. I don't want there to just be a mess of the old paint and new paint on that single wall. Obviously, the chemicals aren't exactly ideal to be inhaling at the moment too, so I'm hanging out with my mom and the boys.
Gosh, it's so weird having to say the boys and Eryn. Never thought that would ever be... a thing, I guess. Now it is, and sometimes I wonder how I haven't gotten used to it yet.
Cole is reading Eryn to sleep, Dahlian is with his girlfriend, and Mom is taking a shower before we watch a movie.
I'm sitting in my old room, sifting through the bags of overpriced shit we bought today. I got candles, clothes and blankies for the unnamed child vacating my uterus, some new underwear because apparently my boobs aren't the only thing multiplying their original mass by ten tons.
My hips, my ass, my boobs—growing. Widening, expanding. I have the body I dreamed I'd grow to have (minus the baby bump thing, obviously) when I was in middle school, except now I don't want it.
My hips hurt, my boobs are sore, and I almost ripped the panties I'm wearing now while trying to put them on. But that could very well be because I've had these particular underwear since my last year of college.
Anyway, not the point.
I'm looking at the dress I got, the one that matches Levin's suit, and I wonder if I'm making the wrong choice. If helping him is going to end as astronomically bad as I think it will.
But none of those feelings matter. They can't. I have to push them aside because he needs help, and we're friends. Friends help friends. And I do want to do it. My mind just starts racing, my anxiety starts setting in, and this is usually where I turn the other way and head for that comfort I just mentioned.
I can't let myself do that, though. Not this time, and hopefully not any time soon.
The overthinking comes back, the intrusive thoughts start to bubble. Luckily, Mom calls out for me just in time to shut them down.
I put everything back in its respective bag before heading downstairs.
"Hi, Cindy." Cole says when I make it to the living room.
"Hey. What are you up to?" I ask him.
He looks up from his book to smile at me before shrugging.
"Nothing. Just reading."
It's now I realize that, while I did inherit very favorable genes from both Mom and Dad, Cole got the prettiest combination. With his light brown eyes and his short, curly black hair. He's got Dad's nose and Mom's sharp jaw. Lucky bastard.
"What book are you reading?"
"The one you leant me a couple weeks ago. I just got around to it."
The book I gave him is a romance. He likes classics and his guilty pleasure is a good love story. So, I let him borrow my copy of Pride and Prejudice.
It such a basic romantic classic, but when I read it, I liked it. And if I know my brother as well as I claim to, I know he'll love it. He might even refuse to give it back to me.
"Any good?"
"You read it. Shouldn't you know?"
I chuckle. "I mean, how do you like it? Dork."
"It's good."
That might seem like a terrible answer, like he isn't really reading it, but it's a compliment. Either he starts it and puts it down a second later or he likes it enough to keep it glued to his palm for the average three days it takes him to finish a book.
"Good."
The second I take a seat next to him, he closes the book. Before I can ask if he's done with reading for the night, he pulls his legs up onto the couch and faces me.
"Cindy?"
"Cole."
"If you were dating a famous athlete, you would personally tell me... Right?"
Oh, here we go.
I sigh. "Cole—"
"What happened to me being your favorite sibling, Cindy? The one you could talk to, the one that doesn't make jokes when a serious topic arises?"
Levin and I's story still need so much work, so much tweaking. I just don't have time to deflect, or think of something off topic.
"It's not like I told anyone. You aren't the only person who was left in the dark?"
"Okay. Well, how did Instagram know before I did?"
This kid has Instagram? I thought he was too cool for social media.
"Because paparazzi are assholes who can't mind their own business." I tell him truthfully.
"It was before you and Tommy split, you know. And I don't want to accuse you of anything, but..."
He could. Half of the internet already has. Hearing him basically call me a two-timing whore would probably set me straight, actually.
"I didn't cheat on Tommy, Cole. I would never."
I take a minute to explain to him how Levin needed an escape route out of the library, and how it was taken out of context. How so was all the other pictures there are of us together.
"And we aren't even together, really." I inform him. "We're testing things out. He invited me on a date, and we went, and now... Whatever happens, happens."
My brother nods slowly, seemingly processing this information I've given him.
"So, you don't hate me? You still love me? Trust me?"
I laugh, nodding. "Of course, I do."
"Ok. Good."
"Good."
We end up talking about who-knows-what until Mom comes downstairs with wet hair and an ugly pajama set she's had since I was a kid.
Cole picks the movie, I make the popcorn, and Mom ends up falling asleep while she pumps for Eryn.
My brother and I watch the rom-com he put on, and wake up Mom to make sure she doesn't end up with an overflowing bottle only a minute or two of watching the screen.
Mom finishes the movie with us. Cole goes upstairs as I'm putting on my gloves and socks and shoes. And then I head home before it can get too late and I'm too scared to drive.
Today was a nice day. A good one. Shopping, spending time with family.
Things are starting to work back into place all on their own, and I couldn't be more grateful if I tried to be.
Everything is working out.
And that feels so good to say, so good to notice.