The second the warmth of her body spreads down my front, I’m taken right back to our kiss against my car.
Goddamn, that was hot.
If I’m going to get away with things like that in public from here on out, we might find ourselves never at home. The thought makes me sad, because I love hanging out with her. But I really like kissing her, too…
“All of this, it’s…too much.”
“Sweetheart, nothing is too much for you or our baby. I want you to feel beautiful.”
Her eyes shutter. Needing to keep our connection, I reach out and tuck my fingers under her chin.
“Do you want to leave?” I ask. If she says yes and means it, I’ll take her hand and lead her straight out the front door and not look back.
Her eyes drift to the rack of clothes beside us. I’m not sure if she’s looking at one particular piece or all of it in general, but something tells me that despite how much she wants to fight all this, she won’t.
“I…I can’t afford all this stuff, and I don’t want your money,” she says quietly.
“I know you don’t. That’s never been in question. You are a strong, independent woman who has proven time and time again that you can take care of yourself. But it’s okay to let someone else take the reins for a bit. Treat you to a few things you deserve for doing a spectacular job of growing his kid and making him smile more than he ever has in his life.” A smile twitches at her lips. “I’m the he, in case you didn’t get that.”
She laughs, and my body relaxes.
“Yeah, I got that.”
“So, what do you want to do?”
She glances at the clothes again before looking over her shoulder at the fitting rooms.
When her eyes come back to mine, I know she’s made a decision. The unease has been replaced with determination.
“Let’s do this.”
“Sounds good to me, sweetheart. And make sure you pick something hot for our date.”
“Maternity clothes aren’t hot, Everett.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
After helping her get the rack of clothes into the fitting room, I reluctantly close the curtain and drop onto the couch.
“You gotta show me,” I call.
She groans in response, but like a good girl, she does as she’s told.
Each outfit looks great on her, and I won’t lie, seeing that little bump showcased by properly fitting clothes does make my heart beat a little harder. I might be getting used to the idea that I’m going to be a father, but while there’s no tangible evidence other than Bea living in my apartment and spending her mornings vomiting, it’s easy to push aside. That bump, though…there’s no pushing that aside.
“I’m not showing you this one,” she calls, dragging me from my thoughts.
“What? Why not?” I ask, sitting forward with interest.
“It’s…it’s a little revealing.”
I rub my hands together. “Then you have to show me.”
“Everett,” she warns.
“I think it’s only right that as the father of your unborn child, I get the final say on whether something is too revealing or not.” And whether she’s going to be able to wear it out in public or if it’s just for home…
“That’s ridiculous,” she mutters.
