Big Girls Do It Pregnant Read Online Free Page A

fit in, I put on my favorite outfit, the only thing I felt sexy in, a floor-length, high-waisted dress, scooped low in front and back to show off my ginormous preggo boobs, tucking in just right to give me some curves around my hips and ass without hugging my belly. It was ivory in color, soft against my skin, loose and comfortable, yet still let me feel attractive.  
    I wore it more frequently than I should, mainly because I’d never been able to find another dress like it.  
    The cab honked outside, and I snagged my purse and phone on the way out the door. Chase had paid a fortune for our house, but it was perfect, a brownstone walk-up in a hip but fairly quiet section of Manhattan. We had the entire first floor, and he’d let me furnish it to my heart’s desire. I loved our home. I’d love it even more when his tour was over and he could stay home with me every day. His label was giving the band a couple months off, since Chase and I were having our baby, and Gage, the bassist, claimed to need personal time. No one knew what his deal was, but Chase had made the hiatus happen since he’d noticed Gage was had been acting off lately, in a funk. I’d get Chase all to myself for six whole months before they went into the studio to start recording their first full-length album. They’d put out a couple EPs up that point, each recorded in whirlwind, marathon sessions between tour dates, but they hadn’t put out anything full-length yet.  
    Six Foot Tall had gone viral, in a way. Someone had recorded his performance and proposal to me and uploaded it to YouTube, and it had gotten well over a million hits, which spurred the sales of their music and sold out the rest of the shows on the tour. They’d played on Leno and Late Late Night with Jimmy Fallon , and had been on the cover of Rolling Stone and Revolver .  
    All of which, of course, translated into me not having seen my husband—even after more than year, I still got giddy thinking that—in more than three months. We FaceTimed and Skyped, of course, but it wasn’t the same. Skype sex wasn’t anywhere near as satisfying as having Chase in my bed. Not by several orders of magnitude.  
    I pushed the thoughts from my mind as I sat down in Lindsey’s chair and told her what I wanted, more or less. Which was, namely, shorter. Not so short Chase couldn’t grab into my hair, but shorter. Lindsey made quick work of my hair, keeping up a constant chatter in her thick New York accent, black bob nodding and ducking as she snipped and fluffed and snipped until she was satisfied. I had made her turn me around so I couldn’t see myself. When Lindsey finally stepped away and tucked her scissors in her apron, I felt nerves shoot through me.  
    What was I thinking? Cutting my hair? Shit! Chase was going to kill me. He’d hate it. I’d hate it.  
    “You seriously look amazing, Jamie,” Lindsey chirped, teasing my curls with her fingers before turning me around. She must have sensed my nerves. “Honest, Jamie. He’ll love it, I promise. You’ve got to, like, trust me.”
    I had my hands over my eyes, refusing to look still. “What was I thinking, Linz? I don’t know why I just did this, I really don’t.”
    Lindsey laughed and took my wrists in her dainty little fingers. “You’re pregnant. You know how many pregnant women I get in here who have had a sudden urge to cut their hair? It happens all the time. I’m not sure why, really, but it’s a fact. It’s kind of my specialty, actually. The other girls always send me the preggos, because I can usually tell when they really want to cut their hair and when they think they do but really just want it to look different. Sometimes that’s all it is. Part of the nesting phase, I’ve heard, where you go through and, like, change everything for the baby.”
    I laughed. “Maybe that’s it. But I don’t think I’m nesting just yet. I just…wigged out, like, I all of a sudden hated my hair and wanted it gone, off