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“Alright,” muttered, reading to els
My prenatal appaltour was inter hours the bad un dato da YANHUNTING detailed ultrasound hopes today
Gas shifted at my feet, hile Warm Weight & comforting preve
to rest his head on my growing belly
“Tanks, buddy. “I whispered, scratching baland tie care
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. Scarlett, of cours
Good luck at your appointment today! Tell those twins their fabulis Aunt Scarlett says NO growing the big batera Barat outfits planned
1 smiled, typing back. I’ll relay the message, but they don’t seem telisten to anyone these days
Getting out of bed had become a strategic operation. I rolled to my de, eased myself up slowly, and passed to find before standing. Six months pregnant with twins meant my center of gravity shifted really fast.
“Come on, Gas,” I called as I waddled toward the bathroom. “Breakfast after shower. ”
Gas followed obediently, settling on the bathroom rug where he could keep watch. His protective instincts had gone overdrive since my pregnancy became more obvious.
The shower helped wash away some of my morning anxiety. As I died off, I caught sight of my reflection in the full length mirror. My body had changed so dramatically over the past month the curve of my stomach, the fullness of my breasts, eveni the slight swelling in my face.
Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m pregnant. I ran my hands over my belly, feeling one of the twins shift beneath my palm.
“Good morning to you too,” I murmured.
Dressing took longer these days. I settled on a loose maxi dress and cardigan–comfortable enough for the doctor’s offic presentable enough in case any photographers were still lingering outside.
The media frenzy had died down somewhat since Taylor’s initial court appearance, but the occasional reporter stall camped out, hoping for a statement or a photo op. My pregnancy had become public fodder, the drama of it all apparently irresistible to gossip columns and society pages.
BRANSON EX–WIFE CARRYING SECRET TWINS had been one of the more restrained headlines. Others had been cruefer, speculating wildly about the timing of conception and the state of my divorce.
I’d stopped reading them weeks ago. Mom had canceled all our newspaper subscriptions and installed heavy curtains on the street–facing windows. Gas growled at anyone who came too close to our door. We’d adapted, as people always do
In the kitchen, I found Mom already awake, dressed in her gardening clothes despite the early hour. A mug of herbal tea steamed beside her as she scrolled through her tablet.
“Morning,” she smiled, glancing up. “Ready for the big day?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I poured myself a glass of orange juice. m glad you agree that I can go by myself.”
Yesterday, I had a long argument with Mom, because I noticed that she still gets headaches from time to time. She always says she’s completely recovered. So sometimes I forget that Mom has only just woken up from her ten–year coma
Chapter 109 It’s Catherine
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She shook her head. “You promised me that Dr. Matthews and the nurse would accompany you the whole time. I hope you can
remember that.”
I grunted. ‘What about you, Mom?‘
“I have that meeting with the lawyers, remember?” The gleam in her eye told me she’d found something significant. Mom’s crusade against Dad had become a full–time occupation, one she approached with meticulous attention to detail. Part of me worried about the toll this pursuit might take on her still–recovering health. But in another way, her lying motionless in that hospital bed for years was exactly because of him. I gave up and agreed to what she did.
“Fine,” I conceded, reaching for the cereal. “But I want all the details when I get back.”
“Deal.” She sipped her tea, watching as I poured Rice Krispies into bowl. “Your appointment’s at nine, right?”
I nodded, mouth full of cereal.
“And you’re sure you don’t want me to arrange a car service?”
“Mom, I can drive myself. The hospital is fifteen minutes away.”
“I know, I know,” she sighed. “Just being cautious.”
The doorbell rang, making us both jump. Gas raced to the entryway, barking his standard warning.
Mom frowned. “Are you expecting someone?”
O
“No,” I set down my spoon, suddenly on edge. The memory of Taylor’s ambush was
still too fresh.
Mom moved quickly, checking the security monitor we’d installed after the incident. “It’s Catherine,” she said, surprise evident in her tone.
“Catherine?” I echoed, equally confused. “Kyle’s mother?”
Mom nodded, pressing the intercom. “Good morning, Catherine. Come right up.”
She unlocked the door, then turned to me with raised eyebrows. “Any idea what this is about?”
“None,” I said honestly. Catherine had texted occasionally since the news broke about my pregnancy, but we hadn’t spoken directly. I’d assumed Kyle had told her everything–or at least his version of everything.
A minute later, a soft knock announced her arrival. Gas, ever the vigilant protector, positioned himself between me and the door as Mom opened it.
Catherine stood in the hallway looking as elegant as ever in a cream pantsuit, her silver hair swept into a perfect chignon. Age had been kind to her, etching only the faintest lines around her eyes and mouth. Her gaze went straight to my belly, softening visibly.
“Mia,” she said warmly, stepping inside. “Look at you.”
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