Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
CHASSIS
He doesn’t regret taking me shopping in the beginning. Not even when we’re standing in line at the coffee place while he waits for me to order the most ridiculous-sounding drink on earth, but it’s delicious and caffeine-free, so I order the vanilla bean crème Frappuccino blended cream.
And he doesn’t regret it when I start to try on some shorts with stretchy bellies, shirts, and even a few dresses. He doesn’t even flinch when I have to grab underwear and bras. But the moment I start to lose him is when I walk into the makeup department of the store.
His entire demeanor changes. I start to ask him if everything is okay, but he just shakes his head. Trying to get the toiletries and things that I need quickly, I start to get frazzled.
A strong hand catches my bicep as I walk past Amos. Looking at the hand, I slowly shift my gaze up his arm to meet his. “Don’t rush. Get what you need and also what you want.”
“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world than here,” I whisper.
His lips twitch into a smirk, and his eyes dance as he watches me for a moment. “That isn’t a fucking lie,” he murmurs. “And I’ll probably never do this again, because this feels like the seventh circle of hell, but I can handle it for the day.”
“When I’m finished here, we can look at baby things,” I murmur.
He hums but doesn’t say anything immediately in response. He releases his grasp on my arm and then tugs his phone out of his pocket, and I watch as he begins to distract himself with texting or whatever he’s doing on his device.
My anxiety begins to disappear, and it doesn’t take me much longer to get all the things I need.
When I moved here, I expected to be close enough to everything I was near in Prescott and Vegas.
But while Boulder City is growing, it still doesn’t have everything, leaving me a bit apprehensive about traveling outside of it.
I haven’t been worried about Samuil, well, not until Amos made it clear that I should be.
I just haven’t been comfortable going anywhere alone outside of Boulder.
I’ve been independent and doing things on my own my whole life, but this feels different.
Maybe it was my subconscious protecting me, or maybe it was me licking my wounds… both of which are likely the truth.
“Are you ready to look at baby things?” I ask, standing at the end of the cart.
There is so much stuff in this basket. I’m not sure what I was thinking.
I should put some things back. I stare at the items, knowing that they’re all needs, but also, do I need four pairs of shorts?
I could just do some more laundry. Do I really need four pairs of biker shorts, too?
Are leggings an absolute must in this heat?
“Stop overthinking this shit, Skel.”
My head whips up, and my eyes focus on his. He’s smiling, almost like there’s a secret only he knows, and he thinks it’s funny or something. Then he clears his throat and speaks. My heart slams against my chest at his words.
“You’re my wife, sweetheart. You need clothes, you need bathroom shit. Let me do this for you.”
“Okay.” The single word comes out in a whisper.
I don’t know why he’s being so damn nice to me. He really shouldn’t be. I’ve done absolutely nothing to deserve all of this. In fact, I’ve done the exact opposite. I start to say that, but Amos doesn’t give me the opportunity. He flings the cart around and starts to walk away.
My feet move quickly as I follow behind him, practically running as I attempt to keep up. In my rush, I don’t miss the looks of the people he passes. Wide eyes, parted lips, and, if I’m not mistaken, mixed with the fear is also desire.
Narrowing my eyes, I move a little faster and loop my arm around his. I’ve never felt possessive over a guy before, but oh hell no—he’s mine. At least in name. Not that I have much of a claim to him past that, but I am wearing his ring.
He guides the cart down the first baby aisle, and I stop when I see all the little onesies. All thoughts of women looking at him, of rings, and whatever else was swirling around inside my head vanish.
All I can see is the teeny-tiny cotton fabric in front of me. Some have little feet sewn on, and some don’t. I take one step forward, then another, and reach out for the footed ones. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so precious in my life.
The fabric is soft to the touch. So soft that I imagine it would be beyond comfortable to be wrapped up in them. I pick up the three-pack of footie pajamas. There is a cream-colored one, a gray one, and a medium-soft blue with gray stars.
“Is this okay?” I ask.
I don’t turn around to look at him, mainly because I can’t look away from these. Amos reaches over, plucking the package of pajamas from my hand. Turning my head, I look over my shoulder and watch as he drops it in the cart.
“Sweetheart, it’s not what I think is okay. It’s what you want.”
It’s not just what I want. It’s what I need, too, and I’m going to need everything.
In fact, it all seems so overwhelming. I think I’m going to need to do some research and make a list. I wouldn’t even know who to ask for help, and I don’t know much about children in general, let alone what is needed to care for an infant.
He dips his chin in a single nod, then moves toward me. I face him, my breath hitching as he quickly closes the distance between us. He wraps his arms around me to pull me against his chest.
“I got you, babe,” he states.
And then, without another word, his mouth slams against mine. He kisses me long and hard. It’s perfection. He lifts his head, his eyes find mine, and his lips curve up into a smile.
“One thing at a time. You’re getting overwhelmed. Let’s look at the furniture and then go home.”
Home.
Our home.