Chapter 82

Addy’s POV

“That dress is not doing you any favors,” Lila announced, folding her arms like a self-appointed fashion critic on a runway she hated.

Great. My pre-wedding anxiety just got its own chorus line. I pressed a hand to my hips and abdomen—where my imagination magnified every curve—and croaked, “I look like I swallowed a beach ball.”

Riley leaned in with a grin that spelled trouble. “Or pregnant.”

My snort could’ve registered on the Richter scale. “Not a chance.”

Still, I caught myself studying that midsection as Lila harrumphed. “Not me,” Riley said, patting her flat tummy like it was forged from steel. “This baby box stays locked until I’ve got my nursing degree, a six-figure savings account, and Noah sings the national anthem—backwards—while agreeing to each condition.”

We all turned to Lila. She shook her head fiercely, sending her hair into a mini tornado. “Same boat here. Until Rowan hands over a signed contract and we both pass