“No! No, of course I don’t think that. I want you to have a baby shower and be spoiled by all your friends. I’ve wanted that for you for weeks. I just think it’s…suspicious.”
“Suspicious,” she deadpans.
“Not suspicious then, that’s the wrong word. I just have a feeling.”
“A feeling,” Rosie says flatly.
I nod. “I just don’t trust it.”
“You don’t trustme?” She slides to her feet.
“No!” God, this conversation has run away from me. “Ofcourse I trust you Rosie, but it’s your mother I don’t trust. I just think she might be taking advantage.”
“Right,” Rosie says, pushing her chair back from the table. “And you think I’m too naive to not notice if someone is trying to take advantage of me.”
“No, hell no. Rosie, I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Well I don’t need protection from my own mother, Jackson,” she snaps, placing her hands on her hips.
I could back down, I could apologize and diffuse the tension with a joke, but there’s something in my gut that’s telling me that something is off.
“Rosie,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest. “I just think you should conside?—”
“Don’t stand there with that Dad stare. It’s not going to work.”
I mirror her with my hands on my hips. “I don’t know why we’re arguing about this, Rosie. I’m just trying?—”
“Well, stop trying,” she snaps. “I’m going to bed.”
She turns and storms out of the kitchen, her ponytail swishing behind her.
“Do you need me to help?—”
“No,” she snaps, over her shoulder.
“Okay then,” I say, running my hands through my hair.That went well.
42
ROSIE
I fiddlewith the fabric around my stomach, tugging it away from my body as if it could hide my thirty-eight week shape. The material is soft and lightweight, one of the many Pip sent as options when we went out to dinner before Christmas. This is the only one that I even had a hope would fit at this point.
I wipe my sweaty palms on the skirt, liking how it fits along my legs.
I feel pretty, more pretty than I’ve felt for the past few weeks.
“Beautiful,” Jackson says from behind me. I glance in the floor length mirror and see him leaning against the bedroom door.
I fight the blush that rises to my cheeks. “You like it?”
He prowls towards me, wrapping his arms around me and cradling my heavy stomach with his hands as he takes some of the weight. He presses a kiss to my temple, and I can’t help but sink into his arms. “You always look beautiful.”
I tilt up slightly, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“Are you—” he starts before cutting himself off with a sigh.
I pull away slightly, stepping out of his embrace and into my trainers. Not the perfect vibe with the dress, but my boots no longer fit past my ankles and it’s too cold for sandals.
