18 Months Later
My back hurt. My feet hurt. I wanted to cut out my heart and donate it to someone who needed it more. The increased pressure was absolutely horrid. It was one of the few times I wished my human side prevailed. Nine months would've been preferable to eighteen.
Standing in the wing, I rubbed my belly through the chiffon and sequins of my dress. My little prince or princess was due any day, and I was more than ready.
Memphis's lie was needed in the moment, but he was lucky as f*ck Trish was still human when she swore. That was the only thing that saved me from the problems Wulf warned me about.
On stage, the guys were nearly finished with "Nine Day Walk," a southern rock-folk number that told the story of a woman forced to leave the man she loved and marry another who be
