Maggie’s eyes roam over me, judgment clear in them as she shakes her head. “Babe, what the hell are you wearing? It’s a bonfire, not a Lamaze class.” I frown at her as I look down at my sweater. “What do you mean? I like this sweater.” “My grandma likes that sweater,” she deadpans. “You have a banging body. Why are you hiding it?” she asks. I cross my arms over my chest uncomfortably before shrugging softly. A sympathetic look crosses her face before she nods. “Sorry, I’m being a bitch. You look beautiful.”
