I incline my head and am about to say yes when she interrupts me.
“But not likethe penthouse, penthouse, right? It’s one of many upper-level apartments all called the penthouse? Just to make everyone feel special? Like the participation ribbon penthouse?”
Shit. She hates even the idea of the penthouse. What do I do now? We’re almost on my floor. My realtor is great, but I doubt he could find me a new place before we reach my floor. As if to confirm my thoughts, the elevator glides to a gentle stop and the doors slide open with a chime. My personal lobby greets us from the open doors and I gesture for Phoebe go first again, trying to gather my thoughts.
Stepping around her, I open my door and guide her inside, not missing the wide-eyed stare she casts around my apartment.
“This place is three times the size of my house.” She wheels around to face me. With a grin, she says, “Tell me the truth. Do you ever get lost in here?”
A relieved breath escapes me, and I grin back at her. “Only at night, when it’s dark. I keep a flashlight by the bed for midnight trips to the kitchen.”
She laughs and takes a few more steps into my space. The sight of her in my home triggers a flood of warmth in my chest.She fits here.
“Oh, look at him,” she nods to where Lincoln sits in my arm, his head resting against my chest while his hand pulls on his ear. “He’s so tired. We better get him changed and ready for bed.” She looks left and right. “Where are we going?”
I lead her down the hallway and open the door to Lincoln’s room. She steps in ahead of me and stops dead in her tracks.
“You made him an entire bedroom?”
Chapter 27
Visits With B.O.B. And The Not-Quite-Good-Enough Orgasm
Phoebe
“Youmadehimanentire bedroom?” My eyes scan the pristine furnishings and toys arranged throughout the room. “His own bedroom?”
There are two dressers against one wall, and upon inspecting them, I discover they’re full of clothes for Lincoln. I walk over to the plush armchair and sit, delighted to realize it’s a glider rocker. My feet find their way onto the matching ottoman, and I snuggle into the soft fabric. I need this chair. It’s amazing. Now I understand Gavin’s unnatural obsession with the couch at my rental. I could easily marry this chair.
Archer carries Lincoln to the changing table on the other side of the room and starts undressing him. He looks more confident than last time, like he knows what he’s doing now. “Uh, yeah. MaeLynn helped me figure out what I needed, which turned out to be the entire inventory from a baby store owned by her friend.”
I sit forward and drop my feet to the ground. “No,” I gasp. “She took advantage of you for her friend’s benefit? I don’t know her very well, but that doesn’t really seem like something she’d do.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No. Nothing like that. She took advantage of her relationship with her friend to get everything I needed delivered to me after the store was already closed for the holidays. Besides”—he gestures to the room with the diaper he removed from Lincoln—“I can afford it. I’d rather help a local business than a huge corporation, anyway. Especially if it belongs to someone who’s important to MaeLynn.”
“Hmm.” I lean back and put my feet up again. How is he for real? Everything he says tells me he’s a terrific guy. “That makes sense, I guess. She didn’t make you buy any non-essentials, did she? You don’t have a wipes warmer over there, do you?”
He laughs outright. “Guilty.”
“Archer,” I chide.
“What?” He grins over his shoulder. “I don’t want him to suffer with a cold butt. Is that so wrong?”
An abrupt laugh burst from me. “The wipes aren’t that cold, Archer. It’s not like they’re kept in the fridge.”
He shrugs. “I want him to be as comfortable as possible. Remind me to show you the instant formula bottle-making machine after this.”
“That sounds…excessive. And super convenient.” It would be awesome to let a machine do the measuring, mixing, and heating for me sometimes.
“I’m excited to try it. Maybe after his nap?”
“Sure.” I force myself out of the chair as Archer finishes with the diaper change. He then zips him into a special sleep sack blanket, picks him up, and passes him to me.
“What’s next?”
“We lay him down, tell him to have a good nap, then sneak out of the room while he’s still awake.” I swivel my head. “Do you have a baby monitor?”
Archer walks to the table beside the chair I’d been sitting in and points to the camera mounted in the room’s corner. “The display unit is in the living room.”
