Fearless in High Heels by Gemma Halliday

Great.”  I watched his retreating back duck into the other room and close the door, not sure if I wanted to scream at him, cry, or just plain give up. 

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
    “Ramirez thinks I’m fat.”
    Dana gasped and put a hand over her mouth.  “He did not say that!”
    I shrugged.  “He didn’t say it, but he won’t sleep with me,” I told her over what was fast becoming our morning chamomile ritual.  “And I’m sure it’s because I’m fat.”
    “You are not fat,” Dana said.  “You’re pregnant.”
    “Dana, you are a great friend.  But there is not a baby in my ass, and my ass has grown to twice its size.  That is a fat ass.”
    Dana peeked behind me.  She bit her lip.  “It’s just to balance out the front.  If your butt didn’t grow, you might fall right over forward.”
    “Fab.  So I’m exponentially expanding all over?”
    “I’ve heard that breastfeeding makes the pounds melt right off,” Dana reassured me.
    “So I might be able to lose the ass, but I’m trading it in for saggy breasts?”
    “Don’t worry,” Dana said, waving me off.  “There’s always plastic surgery for that.  Oh, have you heard of the mommy makeover?”
    I hated to ask… “What’s the mommy makeover?”
    “Ohmigod, it’s great.  They do your breast, tummy, and saddlebags all at the same time.”
    “Saddlebags?”  My eyes flew to my thighs.  “I don’t have saddle bags, too, do I?”
    Dana blinked at me.  “No.  Of course not,” she said, her eyes wide and innocent.
    “Oh, God, that’s your lying face.  I do have saddlebags!”
    “I think we need more tea,” Dana said, getting up to refill my mug. 
    I thunked my head down on the kitchen table, doing deep, Lamaze breaths, willing myself to come to terms with my whale-like status.  It was just temporary, right?  With enough hours on the Stairmaster after the baby came, I’m sure I could shrink my ass back to normal size.  Some pec-working push-ups, and my boobs would perk right back up.  A couple of sea-weed wraps, and I’m sure my thighs would smooth out.  And if all that failed, I made a plan to start a mommy make-over fund as soon as my next paycheck arrived.
    “You okay?” Dana said, setting my mug in front of me.  “ ‘C ause you kinda sound like you’re hyperventilating.”
    I paused mid-deep breath.  “I’m fine,” I lied.  “Look, let’s just drop the whole subject and go look up that license plate number, okay?”
    “Right,” Dana agreed.  “So, where’s Ramirez’s computer?”
    “Spare room,” I directed, grabbing my mug and leading the way to our guest bedroom slash storage room slash Ramirez’s office slash the baby’s room.
    “Whoa,” Dana said stepping through the doorway.  “What happened in here?”
    I watched her wide eyes take in the room.  A stack of Tupperware boxes filled with holiday decorations took up one end and a wardrobe rack filled with overflow from my closet the other.  A crib sat at the far side under the window, though it was filled to the top with baby items, still in their packages.  Humidifiers, wipes warmers, bottle sanitizers, and about a million other things that I wasn’t sure what they did but my mom had insisted that her grandbaby needed.  There was a twin bed somewhere under a pile of baby clothes, and in the far corner was a desk where a laptop hunkered down amidst piles of papers.
    I guess all the slashes in our room’s use had kinda filled it to max.
    “It’s a little messy, I know,” I admitted.
    “Messy?  Dude, I’m about to dial Hoarders on you.”
    “I’m going to clear it out before the baby comes.”
    She looked down at me.  Back up at the mess.  “You sure you have enough time?”
    “Let’s just run the plate,” I said, stepping over a baby excer-saucer and a package of diapers to get to the laptop.
    I jiggled the mouse to life, pulling up Ramirez’s desktop.  In the top corner was an icon labeled