Chapter Text
100 days
The morning of Belly’s Baek-il, everything that could go wrong, does. Laurel’s mother had driven from New Jersey the day before, and spent her time fussing - criticizing, Laurel privately thought, over the way the house, Steven, and John looked. The house was too cluttered and the decorations for the party were too plain. The shiny mylar balloons should have been rose gold, not silver. John should have shaved, he was too scruffy for the occasion. Steven looked thinner from when she saw him last, but it was to be expected as he was their miracle baby. As for Isabel, I’m not calling her Belly, what kind of name is that, she had perfectly plump mandu cheeks and smiled gummily up at her when she leaned over her crib. Then she had yanked her grandmother’s gold necklace and the pendant had snapped off into her chubby hand.
“She’s a baby, Umma,” Laurel said, and sighed inwardly. “She likes grabbing things.”
“I know, but that’s not what I’m concerned about,” her mother said. “You know she has a bald spot? When you were born, you had a full head of hair. Steven too.”
“It’s natural for babies to lose hair. We think it’s because she rubs her head while she’s sleeping. The doctor says it’ll grow back.”
“But the pictures –”
“We’ll put a hat on her. Or we’ll fluff up her hair in front. Really, it’s not a big deal.”
“I want things to go right. It’s a pity Steven was sick when it was his turn. Very unlucky day.”
Technically, it had been past 100 days when it was Steven’s official Baek-il, but Laurel was determined to keep the miracle baby story going until her mother joined her father in heaven.
“Everything’s going to be just fine, Umma,” John said, coming up behind them. His face was newly shaven, the skin still pink. He cradled Steven in one arm. “I’ll go pick up the cake and take Steven with me. The house will be nice and quiet.”
“I’ll go check on the food then. Make sure everyone has enough to eat.”
Laurel sighed. “It’s just going to be us, the Fishers, and you. The uncles are traveling, and John’s parents are on a cruise.”
“Their granddaughter is 100 days old; I would have made the effort if I was on a boat.”
“We’ll film it, and they can see it then. Why don’t you sit down and rest? Everything is going to be fine.”
Everything was not fine.
John and Steven got stuck in traffic, and when they arrived at the bakery, their cake was switched to another customer’s order. Then Belly spit up on her hanbok, which meant hand washing the delicate garment in the bathroom sink and then drying it with her hairdryer. When she checked on her mother, she found her opening cabinet doors and rearranging her refrigerator with Belly strapped to her back.
When Beck called, she was seriously considering day drinking.
“Hey, we’re at a rest stop. How you holding up?”
“How early is too early for a bottle of wine?”
Beck laughed, and she could hear a chorus of baby giggles in the background.
“That good? Well, never fear. I brought you some presents along with presents for our special girl.”
“You promised you wouldn’t be extravagant, Beck.”
“Some pretty clothes and stuffed animals are not extravagant.”
“We still haven’t gone through the pile of clothes you gifted us with last time.”
“Well, the boys grew so much, they barely wore them. Steven looked so cute in that pajama set of Connie’s.”
“The little sloths? He loves them. And Jere’s dinosaur onesie is a little big on Belly, but she’ll grow into it.”
“Oh, you owe me a picture. Jerebear was so cute in it, and then it seemed overnight he turned into baby Hulk.”
“How are the boys?”
“They’re good. Connie is speaking in longer sentences - he was having a conversation with our mailman the other day. I should have recorded it. He kept on asking if he liked his job. Jere is learning more words too. He knows almost all the colors.”
“What’s his favorite color?”
“It changes all the time. He likes pink right now.”
A loud squeal of “Pink!” is heard, followed by “Blue!”
“Uh oh, did we start a chain reaction?”
“It’s fine. It’s better than when he was saying poop all the time. I blame Adam.”
“Hmm. And how is your favorite hedge fund manager?”
“He’s in Paris right now. I’ll tell him you said Bonjour.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
Susannah snorted. “I know what you’re thinking. And I’m fine, Laur. He says he’s going to buy me a Chanel bag. So it’s win-win all around. Be honest. Did you really want him at this back-eel thing?”
“Baek-il,” she said automatically. “It sounds like bake and then ill said together. 100 days since Belly was born. And I was thinking more about him being there so he can help you with the boys. You have two toddlers, that has to be a handful.”
“Not really. Conrad is glued to Adam’s side when he’s around. Jerebear’s the one I have to keep an eye on; he can’t keep still. As soon as he learned how to walk, he was running. He’s going to be an adventurer, that one.”
“Just like you, then.”
“Oh, I hope he sees more of the world than I did. Wouldn’t it be great if our kids backpacked through Europe together? Or hiked the Appalachian trail?”
It was her turn to snort. “Kids with our genes? Please, you don’t even go camping. And I prefer to stay away from wildlife.”
Susannah laughed. “You have a point. Still, can’t you picture it? They’ve got built-in best friends and playmates. That’s lucky.”
“I don’t know, Beck. They’re still so little. They could grow apart when they get older.” Laurel hoists herself onto the kitchen counter. Even years later, cities apart and raising their own families, talking to Beck brought her back to their college days. When the world was a blank page, just waiting for her to fill it in.
“No way. Like you and me, they’ll always be in each other’s lives.”
“Well, we’ll see when puberty hits, if they still like one another.”
“They will. Belly and Steven are part of our family. I can’t wait until she starts to talk. You have to send me a video.”
“Believe me, when it looks like she’s ready to talk, John will be there with his camcorder. He’s obsessed with it. We have documentary length videos from Steven’s first year.”
“Sounds like Adam. But it’ll be different, because it’s our girl.” Susannah sighed, and Laurel could hear the wistfulness in it.
“Have you talked to Adam about having another baby?”
“Yes. He hasn’t changed his mind. He’s happy with our boys. And I am, too, most of the time. Still, a little girl –”
“I know it’s not the same, but if you ever want baby time – you can always come over and stay with me. Bring the boys, too.”
“If John took up Adam’s referral, you guys would be living in Boston. We could be next-door neighbors.”
“It wasn’t a referral, Beck. It was happy hour at a members-only club, and there would have been no job guarantee. And John hates that sort of thing. Besides, we love living here. Maybe you should move to Philadelphia.”
“I just finished wallpapering the living room,” Susannah said with mock outrage. “I can’t move now.”
“Then I guess we’ll both have to stay put.”
“We’ll have summers together, at least. I can’t wait. It’ll be our girl’s first summer outside next year.”
“Don’t go too crazy,” Laurel said. “Steven thinks every time we go somewhere new, there’s going to be balloons in the living room and a blow-up castle in the backyard.”
“I learned my lesson with the mobile aquarium. We’ll do something simple for Belly’s first summer.”
“Your idea of simple is Martha Stewart on a Prozac day, Beck.”
“It is not. You can’t outdo the doer. Anyway, I’m going to let you go. The boys are getting restless.”
“See you soon.”
There was a rustle, and she heard Susannah’s faint, “Say bye to your auntie Laurel!’
Two little voices pipe up in unison. “Bye bye, Lala!”
John found her smiling at her phone when he walked into the kitchen. “Was that Susannah?”
“Yep. She’s on her way with the boys. No Adam, big shocker.”
“Well, that’s his loss.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek. “We got white cupcakes with vanilla buttercream for the mix-up, and they refunded the cake. Our boy is with Umma and Belly. Is there anything else we need?”
“Do we still have any of that Zinfandel? I think I’m going to need a glass. Or bottle.”
He laughed. “I’ll go check in the refrigerator, but don’t stress about it. Once Susannah and the boys get here, Umma will have new people to boss around, and you can relax.”
“Easy for you to say,” Laurel said. “My mother likes you better. I can’t relax until the Baek-il is over.”
“She only likes me better now because I replaced the tires on her car for free. I’m still the guy who stole you from the deacon in training, remember?”
“What was his name – Jongsu? No, wait - the deacon was Kevin Oh. She wanted me to date her friend’s son, the one who became a real estate agent.”
“Theodore Park. You wouldn’t even have to change your last name.”
“I still didn’t – hold on. We talked about this - are you upset I didn’t take your last name?”
John took her hands in his and pulled her closer so they were forehead to forehead.
“Not upset. Just a little – wistful, I guess. I knew you were going to keep your last name when I met you. Which is an interesting thing to yell at a guy on a first date, by the way.”
“I was nervous. All the guys I met before were just into one thing and I thought if I made it clear that I wasn’t just going to be someone’s girlfriend –”
“And I liked that about you. You were unexpected.” He squeezed her hands. “And loud, and terrifying.”
“Yeah, a real catch,” Laurel chuckled. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s still a little terrifying, some days,” he said. Laurel smacked his shoulder.
“Wow, thanks.”
“No, I mean - I get to wake up and be married to you, and we made these two little people. I know it happened sooner than we had planned, but I don’t regret it at all. It’s terrifying to think that it wouldn’t have happened.”
His arms wrapped around her, and slowly she melted into his hug.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For marrying me.”
“Thank you for saying yes,” he said.
Susannah arrived with presents for everyone. Two bottles of wine, one bottle of champagne, and a bouquet of hibiscus for Laurel - “Picked them just before the first frost!” a sleek black pen that looked like it could write on water for John - “Adam picked this up in Japan. There’s a matching pencil, I can ask him to get it the next time he goes.”
Steven received a tub of wooden building blocks - “I got the jumbo-size pieces so he can’t choke on them. They’ll last forever.”
After spending five minutes fawning over Belly’s tiny hanbok - “Oh, she’s precious. A little fairy. Yes you are, you lovely girl,” and kissing her cheeks, Susannah reluctantly returned Belly to Laurel’s arms. “The clothes are in the car, but the boys helped me pick out a friend for Belly.” She held up a stuffed turtle and made it dance. Belly made a delighted noise and grabbed at it.
For Laurel’s mother she gave a little curtsy and then enveloped the shorter woman in a hug. “Mrs. Choi! It’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”
“You saw me at the hospital when Isabel was born.”
Susannah’s smile didn’t slip. “And here we are again. Do you still like Chanel No. 5? I was at South Bay and couldn’t help myself.” She plucked a miniature bag from the pile of gift bags and presented it.
“This is very generous of you, Susannah.” Laurel’s mom patted her hand. “I wear it on special days.”
“Today is a special day, isn’t it? Our girl’s Baek-il celebration.” She pronounced it correctly, and Laurel smiled at her mother’s surprised expression.
“Yes. Do you know why it is special?”
“No, Laurel didn’t tell me.”
“It is because back home if babies stay past 100 days, it means they were strong enough. My mother had twin sisters who did not live to 100 days. Medicine and food was not as good as it is now. We celebrate 100 days because it is a happy time, we are healthy and blessed. This little one will be lucky.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“And it is also to celebrate my daughter, who has made it to 100 days with little sleep,” she continued.
Laurel’s eyes misted up. “I didn’t know that part.” She wiped her eyes and nudged John. “This guy helped too. And you too, Umma.”
“That’s what mothers do. Now, we take pictures and eat. Have you tried rice cakes?”
“The ones in the red sauce? They’re delicious but a little spicy for me.”
“Not tteokbokki. This is baek-il-tteok. It is white, like snow. It is sweet, not spicy. We give as presents.”
Laurel watched as her mother pulled Susannah with her into the kitchen. Jeremiah followed a second later, his socked feet making little thump-thump noises as he hurried after his mom.
“That’s the nicest my mom has been to Susannah since she’s known her,” she said. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“People can change.” John kissed her temple, then kissed the top of Belly’s head. “What matters is that we’re all together.”
🐚 🐚 🐚
“Belly-bell-bells,” Tom sings as he comes into focus on her laptop screen. “Jere will be here in a minute, he just texted me to pick up when you called. He had to talk to his professor after class.”
“Thanks, Tom. You’re sweet.”
“I know. So,” Tom’s voice lowers. “What’s happening in Grittyland? Any hot gossip to share?”
“We have more than just Gritty here, you know,” she says with a laugh. She likes Jere’s roommate. He’s the right amount of fun and thoughtful - always up to party - according to Jere, but also down for a video game session or just hanging out. She never doubted Jeremiah’s ability to make friends at Finch - he could make friends with anyone, anywhere, but she hoped that they were more like Cam instead of Liam and his pack of trust fund bros. Tom is more interested in sports than Cam, but not fanatical like Steven - she still remembered 8th grade being the year her brother discovered baseball and would not shut up about statistics. But what she really likes about Tom is how he treats her like her own person and not just Jeremiah Fisher’s girlfriend.
Not that she minds being Jere’s girlfriend. Loves it, quite honestly.
“Yeah you got some Liberty Bell or something? Cheesesteaks.” Tom snaps his fingers. “Oh, and the Rocky statue.”
“I haven’t seen those movies,” Belly says. “And not some Liberty Bell. The Liberty Bell. Well, an authentic recreation of it. And we have the Rodin museum.”
“The Thinker guy. What do you mean you haven’t seen Rocky? Those are classics. Next time you come up, we’re gonna have a marathon. Jeremiah can join if he’s good.”
He raises his eyebrows suggestively.
A crumpled ball of paper bounces off his head.
“What have I said about hitting on my girlfriend, man? Get out.” The familiar sight of her boyfriend instantly warms her, and she beams at him. He smiles back and then turns to his roommate. “Kyle was looking for you earlier. Something about a study group at the campus pub.”
“Fuck. Biochem. Dr. Khang is doing her pop quizzes of doom this week.” He leans back in frame. “Until we meet again, Belly! Try not to miss me too bad.”
Jere pushes him playfully. “She doesn’t miss you at all.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, dude. Be good, I haven’t charged my noise-canceling headphones today.”
As the door closes behind Tom, Belly studies Jere’s face. Was he blushing?
“What’s that all about?”
“Nothing,” Jere says quickly. Too quickly.
“You know I’m going to get it out of you later, right.”
“That’s a later problem, but I’ll risk it,” Jere says, and pulls his hoodie over his head. He has on a tank top underneath, and Belly bites her lip. He’s playing dirty, which means the ‘nothing’ he doesn’t want to tell her has to be something embarrassing. Unfortunately for her, her boyfriend knows one of her major weaknesses is seeing him in little to no clothes. His tan is faded, and his curls are a darker honey color, but he still glows. Her summer boy. And fall, and winter, and spring.
“Isn’t it like 40 degrees where you are?” That tank top really is distractingly thin, damn it. Jere chuckles and the sound settles over her, soft as velvet. She leans back against her pillows and shifts her laptop.
“Yeah, but I ran across the quad to get back in time,” he says. “Didn’t want to miss our date.”
“So you’re all hot and sweaty?”
His lips tilt into a smirk. “Hot, yes. Sweaty, not so much. Why?”
“Just didn’t want to keep you from a shower or anything, that’s all.”
“Are you saying I stink when I sweat?”
“No! I like how you smell,” and she presses her lips together in embarrassment.
“Oh yeah? Interesting.” Jere hums and pulls at the back of his tank top. “Do you have a preference?”
A sliver of his stomach appears on the screen, and she clenches her fingers. “You smell good all the time.”
“The great chicken shit explosion of August would disagree,” he says. “But I liked the clean-up after.”
Her cheeks flame at the memory.
Jere had called the landscapers to prepare the summer garden for fall, and volunteered to help them with hauling potting soil and fertilizer from their truck. She conveniently had been there that weekend after promising her mom she’d return for her dad’s birthday. No funny business, she said, her fingers crossed behind her back.
She had been tasked with carrying decorative rocks while Jere hefted bags of fertilizer over his shoulder and stacked them in front of the garden shed. On their last trip, she hadn’t heard Jere’s panicked “Oh shit,” and nearly walked face first into the business end of a fertilizer bag - but it didn’t matter, as an invisible seam burst and it splattered all over her front and Jere’s shoulder.
The smell was immediately eye-watering and nostril-slamming-shut foul. She gagged and turned away, dropping her rock onto the path. Jere cursed behind her and flung the now half-full bag to the ground. He grabbed her flailing hand, she didn’t even want to think what was covering their fingers, and they ran to get the hose.
“What the fuck do they feed the chickens,” Jere gasped as he sprayed her down first. She shuddered and fought the urge to shake like a dog. Then, it was Jere’s turn as she aimed the hose at his shoulders. Once they were both relatively clean, they rushed into the mudroom.
Jere peeled off his wet t-shirt and dropped it to the floor. It made a sad squelching noise and Jere nudged it with his foot. “That’s going into the trash,” he sighed.
“We could soak it in baking soda then put it in the washing machine?”
“Nope. It’s ruined. I’m sorry about your shirt…” he trailed off and glanced at her chest.
She looked down. Her shirt had gone translucent, and her bra was visible through the fabric. She crossed her arms, which only pushed her breasts closer together.
“Shower,” Jere said thickly, passing her purple and blue towel. “With lots of body wash.”
“Body scrub would be better, I think,” she said. When did her voice get so breathy? She peeked at Jeremiah, who stared at her. He swallowed.
“I’ll give you on the count of ten to get upstairs, Bells.”
“And then what?”
“Then I’m coming after you.” He snapped his towel at her, and she ran.
There had been no question of showering separately, as soon as her hand turned on the faucet, the bathroom door opened, and Jeremiah slipped in. He winked at her, then shimmied out of his shorts and underwear with an exaggerated roll of his hips. Magic Jeremiah, and she didn’t have long to enjoy the view before he was on her, his hands pressed against the wall on both sides of her head. She sucked in a breath, and he smiled his slow, lazy smile that promised she’d be breathless soon after.
“Was that really ten?” She asked.
“I might have skipped eight and nine,” he drawled. He lifted her chin and tilted her face to one side so he could kiss her neck, his lips tracing a path down to her collarbone. She moaned as he licked the hollow at her throat, then gasped as he pressed up against her. He was hard, and she rocked against him instinctively, their hips finding their natural rhythm. He groaned against her skin and his free hand found her waist and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Lift up?” She felt him smile before he looked at her, and though she had seen his face all her life, the beautiful familiarity of it still surprised her. Up close, she could see every freckle, every bead of water decorating his unfairly long eyelashes, and all that warm tan skin. She whimpered as he hauled her up one-handedly, her legs wrapped around his waist.
This way, they were lined up perfectly, and the warmth she felt had nothing to do with the water. His hips nudged forward, and then they were kissing. Jere’s lips pressed against her mouth, feather light kisses that turned into multiple little kisses over her cheeks and forehead. She nipped at his lower lip in frustration and he chuckled, before his tongue slipped inside her mouth. The weeks of separation and longing, both for his voice and touch, melted away.
“Bells,” he sighed as she drew her hands up and down his chest. Her fingers mapped out his pecs, drew territory lines around his heart - Mine - before she reached up and cupped his cheek.
His eyes shut and he nuzzled her palm, before turning and kissing it. She leaned forward, feeling the thick slide of him between her thighs - Jeremiah was very, very ready.
“You’re all pink. I bet I know what you’re thinking.” Jere bites his lower lip and looks at her slyly. “That was the best shower of my life. So far. I think we have room to improve.”
“Oh you do, do you?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I had no complaints. Tens across the board. I just wished we had a little longer.”
“Mmm. Maybe a bath next time? Less chance of slipping and breaking something.”
He laughs, then reaches out of frame. “Check. Bathtub date.”
He comes back with a navy blue steel water bottle in hand, with an eagle logo etched in gold. She sits up and claps her hands. “You got the care package!”
“Picked it up last night. I had to fight Tom for it, I think he smelled the candy inside. Or maybe it was the rice krispy treats. Anyway, I love it,” and he raises the water bottle in a toast. “I didn’t know your mascot was an eagle. I thought for sure it’d be like the Chesterbrook Cheetahs. Or another c-named animal.”
“Nope. We’re the Soaring Eagles of Chesterbrook High. Ca-caw!” She makes a flapping gesture.
“Well, I’m happy to rep your school. But you’ll be a Viking next year. We don’t have a fun sound to go with that, sorry.”
She sticks her tongue out at him. “You should hear us during assemblies. It sounds like an invasion.”
“You’ll have to film one for me then. Catch me up on the full Belly Conklin experience.”
Jere’s smile slips a bit and she knows he’s thinking of his own senior year. Her chest aches. Not for the first time, she wishes she was there - both in the past, and now.
“How about you tell me about the Jeremiah Fisher at Finch experience instead? How was today?”
He brightens. “Not bad actually. Got my history quiz back - I got a B+.”
“I knew you could do it. You were stressing yourself out too much.”
“Says the girl who was rewriting her flashcards from English to French for three hours straight.”
“It’s how you get comfortable with another language!”
They chat for another hour until her eyes feel heavy and Jere yawns more than he talks.
“We should go to bed,” she says sleepily. “You have an early class tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t remind me,” he groans, and runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He looks mournfully at her. “And don’t say things we can’t do until you’re here. You are coming next weekend, right? Laurel didn’t change her mind?”
“Got the bus ticket already paid for, so I don’t have to borrow Steven’s car. Can you believe he called me and asked about his car first?” She snorts.
“I’m surprised he didn’t take it with him to Princeton.”
“They don’t usually give parking permits to freshmen and it’s too expensive otherwise. He wasn’t going to use any of his scholarship money for it, so he’s back to taking public transportation. He was so mad when he found out.”
“Well, you won’t have to worry about transportation when you stay here next year. Can’t have my girl taking the bus everywhere.”
“Does this mean you’ll let me drive again?” She bats her eyelashes, her tiredness momentarily forgotten.
“We’ll see. Maybe after we get some proper stare time, so you don’t drive us off the road again.”
“That was one time. And I’m a much better driver now.”
“We’ll see. I don’t mind driving you around though. Singing our songs, you on air guitar,”
“You on drums,” she finishes, and grins. “I love our drives.” She points at her webcam. “I love you.”
Jeremiah’s smile is like the sun emerging from the clouds. “Love you, Bells.”
It’s only after she turns off her bedside lamp, she remembers she didn’t find out what Tom meant about charging his headphones. She yawns. Another day, then.
She gets a text from Jeremiah right after he finishes his first class.
I forgot to tell you - I texted her already, but can you thank Laurel for sending me more photos? I’m making a photo wall. I have a new favorite.
The next message is a photo she’s never seen before - slightly faded around the edges, it’s a photo of two sleeping babies - she looks closer. It’s not just two babies. It’s her and Jere. She’s wearing a pink hanbok, with a yellow pacifier in her mouth. He’s curled up next to her, sucking his thumb.
100 days, Jere texts right after.
That’s what was written on the back of the photo. It’s the first photo of you and me. Isn’t that cool?
Figures. You look like a baby off a baby food jar.
IDK Bells you look pretty cute to me. Like a little peach. Just wrinkly.
And I’m bald!
Lucky you outgrew that phase.
Ha you’re so funny
;) And now we’re here, 17 years later. That’s like, 6,000 something days.
6,205, but it’s more than that now
So we’ll add on 100 days. And 100 more
Until?
Until we run out of days on the calendar.
A row of blinking dots, then
Is that too much?
I don’t think it’s enough, personally
🐚 🐚 🐚
many 100 days later
He finds his fiancé, and it still sends a little thrill down his spine to think of Belly like that - fiancé staring at a pile of paper with murder in her eyes. Their living room is a wreck, with piles of boxes - some open, most still taped shut, stacked everywhere. Their new couch has been unwrapped for one day and already has been christened with cat hair from their probably-going-to-be-foster-fail cat. Pom is around somewhere though, and he scans the area before he sees the orange tail swishing underneath their curtains.
He was probably plotting to sneak out onto the balcony and yell at the neighbor’s bird feeder again. That would be his next concern. First, the fiancé. The fiancé!
“Hey, pretty girl.”
She looks up and he leans down for a kiss. It ends far too soon for his taste, and he scoops her up from the chair, reveling in her little squeak of surprise, before sitting down and settling her on his lap. He buries his face against her neck, and she relaxes against his chest.
“Hi Jere,” she says.
He presses a kiss against her throat. “What’s wrong?”
She hums appreciatively. “Nothing, I’m overreacting.”
“About what?” Another kiss, this time behind her ear.
“The stupid seating arrangement. I don’t know where to put half of these guests and I’m considering one of those dispensers you see at the deli and guests just pull a number and that’s where they sit.”
“Sounds economical and efficient, I’m for it.” He runs his hand across the curve of her hip and she squirms.
“Jere. It’s a terrible idea. What if I put Aunt Gretchen by an innocent bystander by accident?”
“Then that innocent bystander gets a vivid retelling about the time she was in a MLM.”
His fingers find the zipper to her skirt and he eases it down. Belly smacks his chest, but there’s no real weight behind it. “Jere, we have 100 days until the wedding.”
“Yes, and we also moved into a new apartment, adopted a cat, and deforested a small portion of the Amazon with all these bridal magazines. Oh, and tested wedding cake flavors. I liked that part the best. We should do that one again.”
“We’re keeping Pom?” She wiggles happily, which makes him happy, and he squeezes her waist. “Of course we are. I saw the way you looked at him.”
“I taught him a new trick. He can play fetch!”
“Maybe we should make him the ring bearer. No, Steven’ll get jealous.”
She bursts into laughter. He grins and kisses her. His fiancé, his Belly.