Foster Davis and I have entwined our lives completely, and it’s going to be a mess to try to unravel.
Chapter
Forty-Nine
Callie
* * *
It’s Foster’s only day off for the next ten days, so after our escapade in the shower, we decide to use the opportunity to go out and shop for the baby and have lunch together.
The moment we step into the baby store, a woman greets us, beaming.
“Oh, we hoped you two would pick our store.” She folds her hands in front of herself.
Foster places his hand on the small of my back, his fingers flexing then relaxing.
One of the things I’ve realized about him is that he hates social media and the insight it gives people into his life. I’ve also realized that he has better restraint than I do when it comes to reading the comments.
“Really?” I ask. Clearly, she knows who we are.
“Yes, and you can rest assured. We take care of all the Grizzly and Falcon families. Even a few of the Trojans, but we’re a little far north for them.” She steps closer.
Foster’s hand does the whole flexing and unflexing thing again, as though he’s going to attack if she comes any closer. I’d never tell him, but I’ve grown to love his protective nature even if it’s only because I’m carrying his baby.
“We’re just browsing today,” I say.
She glances at my stomach. “How many weeks are you now?”
She phrases the question as if she’s been following my pregnancy. Sure, I have a social media presence and have been chronicling the pregnancy a little, but I feel a little creeped out that she phrased it the way she did.
“Eighteen weeks,” Foster answers for me.
“The bigger you get, the more uncomfortable the heat will be for you. I can give you the name of a maternity store that all the WAGs use.”
Foster growls under his breath, but I’m proud of him. At least he’s not just walking away from her.
“And are you going to find out the sex of the baby?” she asks.
Foster’s fingers dig into my side. If I don’t get him out of this situation, grumpy Foster is going to make an appearance.
“Um… we haven’t decided.” I wave my finger in the air. “We’re going to look around, then maybe we can make a date to register.” It must be what she’s looking for, to make sure all of our friends and family come here to buy stuff.
“Yes, of course. Sorry, we’re just so excited to see you.” She smiles.
I’m not sure who we are, since there doesn’t appear to be anyone else here, but I take Foster’s hand and lead him to the opposite side of the store.
“So, this is going to be our life.”
I don’t recognize a lot of the items. The more we look around, the more panicked I become.
“What is this?” I pick up an item by a crib.
“You put that around your head.” Sally, the saleswoman—whose nametag I can read now—puts the contraption on her head. A pole shoots out from the headband with something dangling off of it.
My head tilts. “It’s a wearable mobile?”
She nods, and it bounces.
