Chapter 80- Puzzling Bets

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Isabel looked over the puzzle, trying to see how the pieces fit together. She didn't know what picture would appear on top. But she knew that when she finished, something bright and beautiful would appear. All she had to do was keep putting the pieces together.

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Ciara stood on the landing, taking a few deep breaths. She was getting better at this. She still hadn't gotten up the nerve to enter the elevator and still walked the six flights of stairs every day. But she wasn't nearly as out of breath when she got to the top anymore. She knew that once she entered her third trimester, she'd probably start having trouble again and would have to brave the elevator.

But for now, she took pride in the fact that her PT was working. She was only going once a week now, and once she told her physical therapist of the pregnancy, her workouts had been changed to remain safe. She'd been told that she'd probably only need a few weeks of PT. Ciara was relieved she was almost done. She was getting a little bored of it if she was being honest.

At the same time, though, she could see how much good it had done. Her mobility had been completely returned to her, though her bones did still ache sometimes. The arm James had broken once was especially susceptible to random bouts of pain. That being said, though, the phantom pain in her right hand was the worst. Sometimes it was like those three fingers were still there. They ached and they itched, even when she reminded herself that they were only metal now and had no sensation at all.

She'd gotten used to the minute movements needed to control them, though. She'd practiced with them every day, and now making them move was an unconscious effort. It was only when she saw strangers staring at her hand that she remembered she even had prosthetics. She could look at them straight on and not feel any discomfort. They were a part of her now. However, it was a little unsettling when she had to take them off to sleep or shower or wash her hands.

But the biggest change was in her body as a whole. She'd finally started to fill out and her baby bump didn't leave her so strangely proportioned anymore. When she looked in the mirror, she would trace over the fine layer of muscles she had developed. She'd never been particularly strong or muscular, so it was a surprise to her. While she wouldn't call herself strong, she was starting to get the body of an athlete- a runner, maybe. When this pregnancy was over, maybe she should keep working out to maintain this body. She rather liked it.

Taking another deep breath, she made her way to the bullpen, thinking about everything she needed to do that week. At some point, she actually had to go out and buy some baby clothes. It wouldn't do if Baby B came and she didn't have anything to dress them with. The problem was that most baby clothes were designed for either girls or boys, and Ciara had already decided she didn't want to find out the gender of her child. It wasn't easy, finding gender-neutral baby clothes.

She also had to get Ria a birthday present. It was Monday, and her birthday was on Thursday. Teresa had already invited Ciara to dinner with them, seeing as neither woman had anything else to do on Valentine's Day. And then the next day, Friday, Ciara would get to see her sister and niece again. The sisters had finally settled into seeing each other on Fridays again, and since Ciara didn't have to sneak around anymore, they met up earlier in the day, before Ria went to sleep.

Ciara smiled at the thought of Ria. Aunt and niece had started to form a real relationship, and Ria practically jumped out of her skin with excitement every time Ciara came over. She'd screamed in excitement for five minutes when they'd told her that she was getting a cousin. Every time Ciara came over, Ria asked her a million questions about the baby in her tummy. The question she asked the most was, of course, about how the baby got there. Ciara had come up with a different answer every time, and the nearly four-year-old had accepted the answer every time.

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