I came home with our baby’s ultrasound in my hand—and found my husband hurriedly pulling on his pants while my best friend hid behind my maternity coats.

no coffee stain on it.

But beneath the bench at the end of our bed lay a champagne-colored lace camisole with a tiny blue charm attached to one strap.

I’d seen it before.

Claire had shown it to me after her engagement dinner, laughing as she held it against herself.

“Owen paid a ridiculous amount for this,” she’d said. “I’m saving it for our honeymoon.continue reading …