Ella POV:
I'm not exactly sure how I ended up at the mall on a Saturday afternoon, waddling around like some sort of giant, hormonal, ticking time bomb with two dudes pushing me around in a wheelchair like I'm a VIP rockstar on tour. But there I was.
Justin, the poor man, was stuck representing me at some ultra-important meeting at Kingsley Corp — obviously because he was the only one with brains enough to keep a straight face in a boardroom. Meanwhile, Dylan and Max had volunteered (or maybe forced themselves) to take me out for some last-minute shopping. Presents for their godson, they said. A nice gesture. Except for one tiny detail: I was almost ready to pop, waddling like a beached whale, and feeling every ounce of exhaustion and pain pregnancy can dish out.
"Ella, c'mon. Just a quick stroll. You'll feel better." Dylan grinned like he was my personal cheerleader.
