“I’m sure it’s not getting wasted,” Miles said. “The staff will eat whatever you don’t finish.”
Her mouth pulled to one side as she frowned. “You think?”
“Definitely,” he said, though he made a mental note to find out for her what happened to the excess food. Maybe there was a shelter it could be donated to. He had a feeling Chelsea would be pleased if he could come back and tell her he’d done something like that.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since last night. The way she had looked on top of the Ferris wheel, the wind blowing loose strands of her blonde hair around her face, her green eyes brighter than the stars… If the situation had been different, if she hadn’t been carrying his child, it would have been the perfect moment for a kiss.
I can’t be kissing Chelsea, though. We have to keep this professional. All we need is to drag a bunch of personal drama into this situation!
“So,” she said. “The boxes?”
“Right. Well, it’s a lot of my old baby stuff. I guess Dad thought I’d want to have these things, now that I’m about to have a kid of my own.”
“Yeah?” She leaned over eagerly. “What kind of stuff is in there?”
Miles pulled out a onesie with ducks on it and held it up. “Old clothes, mostly.”
“That’s cute!” She reached out and took it from him. “We can definitely dress the baby in this. It’ll be adorable.”
“You really want to put our kid in these old things?” he asked. “I figured we would just get new stuff.”
“We can do that too. But I bet it’ll be special to your dad to see his grandchild wearing the same things his son used to wear. That would probably mean a lot to him.” She moved to one of the boxes and reached in. “Look at these little booties! I can’t believe these used to be yours.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Miles reached over and took the shoes from her with a grimace. “I was adorable, I know.”
“Were you? What did you look like as a baby?” she asked. “I’d love to know that, because I’m sure our baby will look more like you than me.”
He snorted. “Not if we’re lucky.”
She blushed. “I meant… blonde hair is recessive.”
“Right.” He couldn’t make eye contact with her. The true meaning of his words had been so obvious. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. It had just slipped out.I might as well just tell her outright how beautiful I think she is.
It was the first time he had framed that thought so explicitly, even in his own mind. It was true, of course. She was gorgeous. And while Miles had never disliked his own appearance, he very much hoped his child would inherit her good looks.
He cleared his throat, trying to break the tension, and reached into the box in front of him. “Here you go,” he said, pulling out a book and handing it to her.
“What’s this?”
“Old photo album. There should be baby pictures in here.”
She put it down on the table and flipped it open. “Oh, wow — is this your mother?”
Miles nodded, a lump rising to his throat. How long had it been since he’d looked at a picture of her? He usually tried to avoid doing that, because it made him so emotional.
She was young in the photo, sitting in a rocking chair with baby Miles in her arms. You couldn’t really see Miles at all in the picture. He just looked like a bundle of blankets. “My dad must have taken this one,” he said.
“She’s beautiful, Miles,” Chelsea said reverently. “And look how happy she looks to have you.” She sighed. “I wish I could have met her.”
“I wish you could too,” Miles admitted, though he was surprised by it. Why should he want Chelsea to meet his mother? She would be out of his life soon enough. Or rather, she would still be around, but only in a functional capacity, co-raising their baby. She wouldn’t be someone who had a personal stake in his life, and that was the kind of person he’d have wanted to introduce to his mother.
These old baby things are making me sentimental. That’s all it is.
Chelsea flipped to the next page in the album. “Oh, here you are!” she exclaimed. “You’re such a cute baby, Miles, look at you. Look at those long eyelashes!”
Miles glanced at the picture and snorted. “I look ridiculous.”
“No, you look so sweet,” she argued. “I’ll be thrilled if our baby is as cute as you were.” She turned another page. “Oh, teddy bear.”
