Denying Dylan | ✔️

(26) "You are strong, Bea."

Megan was one of those little assholes that gave meaning to the word 'radiant' when she was pregnant. From behind, it wasn't obvious at all. She had no muffin top, no arm rolls, no bra bulge. Her little bump was adorable and well shaped. It sounds like I'm some jealous mom that could never shed her baby weight and therefore hate all glowing mommy's to be. But in truth, I just know that I would be a swamp monster if I ever decided to reproduce.

As of now, I'm still against the idea.

It's been a week since I was arrested and spent the night in jail. The morning after, I came down with a serious cold. Running nose. Fever. A cough that made it sound as if I'd been smoking for three hundred years. It was starting to wear off and Megan had been looking after me while she wasn't at work. I felt bad. I was the one that was supposed to be helping her.

"I'm pregnant, Bea," she said, handing me a bowl of little bow pretzels before she settled into the couch beside me. "Not crippled. I'm not even that far along so I'm perfectly capable of pouring a bowl of pretzels. Although, you should probably eat something better."

"Mmm. You might be right. We could have steak and fries for dinner tonight."

She looked up from her phone which was clutched in two hands and raised a disapproving brow.

"I'm not pregnant," I said. "I don't have to go on a health kick."

"You're sick."

"Yeah I need comfort food."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her phone, tapping, scrolling and ignoring the hand I extended so that I could hold her belly while I crunched pretzels. She didn't mind that I liked to absorb her positive pregnancy vibes and let me caress her as often as I liked. There was something so sweet and special about the fact that she was forming and developing an entire human in her body. And the fact that it's my little sister made it sweeter.

Megan tapped my thigh with the back of her hand. "So, remember how I posted that first photo in the series of my pregnancy shots a couple of weeks ago?"

"Yeah?"

We'd been snapping a photo each week since we moved in together. In front of the window, while the sun was pouring through in the afternoon and created a silhouette. She'd posted the first one but wanted to save the rest for the end result.

"Someone just contacted me through Instagram and asked if you're a maternity photographer. She said, hey. Love that pregnancy shot of you in front of the window. It's gorgeous. I'm six months pregnant and would love to get some photos done but I'm on a tight budget. Do you know how much the photographer charges and if she's taking on new clients? Fine if not. Just searching and most places are way out of my price range."

I sat up straight, putting the bowl beside me on the sofa and snuggled in closer to Megan, gesturing for her to pass me the phone. She handed it over and watched as I tapped out a response.

Photographer here. I'm Bea. What's your budget?

While we waited for a response, I clicked on her profile and had a scroll through her photos.

"First child," Megan said when I opened an announcement that she'd made a few months ago. "She looks young."

"Mmm. Like not even twenty."

I opened another post, one of a pair of booties resting on her bump. The caption said 'I might be doing it alone but I've got enough love for you little mini. I've got all the love that we'll ever need. It's just you and me.'

"Aw she's a solo mom too," Megan rested her head on my shoulder and I scoffed.

"Excuse me. What am I?"