21. Chapter 21
Rhett
There’s a lot of things I can handle, but seeing Aspen sad is not one of them.
We men pretty much get the best stick draw when it comes to babies.
We get to have a few moments of fun, make our deposit, and then just be emotional support.
Aspen's body is changing on the daily, so the least I could do is help her find clothes she feels good in.
When we get home from Aspen’s appointment, I get to planning.
I’d like for the outing to be a surprise, so I pull out my phone and text Ava.
She has connections to check what days Aspen has off so I can take her shopping.
One of her favorite pastimes. Shopping is near the bottom of my list of things I enjoy, just slightly above mucking stalls.
And that’s only if we don’t go into the stores with all the body lotions and perfumes that assault my senses. That’s borderline torture.
Within a few, Ava replies that she’s off tomorrow. If I ever doubted how true my feelings were for Aspen, they’re squashed now because I am actively volunteering to be her shopping support. Lord, help me.
It’s ten a.m., and I’ve got a steaming cup of coffee in my hand.
My rabbit hole of pregnancy research has told me that caffeine is fine in small doses, so I grabbed that and a breakfast sandwich on my way over.
Not like she needs the caffeine; that girl was born with enough buzz to compete with the energizer bunny.
But if it makes her happy, I’m happy to do it.
She opens the door with a messy bun on top of her head, almost as if she just woke up.
I miss getting to see that. See this version of her, where she’s completely undone and at her most true self.
I wonder if I’m going to miss her for the rest of my life?
If I’ll always want her this badly. I hate that I don’t have the final answer on my results.
More so, I hate that I still can’t let myself have her.
That I can’t fight for her the way I want to.
I don’t care that she says she’s okay with shouldering my burdens.
I refuse to be the reason she ever feels like she’s sinking. I just can’t do that to her.
She looks taken aback, so it’s safe to say my surprise worked out.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as she brushes a flyaway hair out of her face.
I shrug. “Well, you said none of your clothes fit, so I think we should go fix that today.” I hand out her coffee for her to grab.
“You wanna go shopping with me?” she asks incredulously.
“Do I want to go shopping? No. But I want to make sure that you’re taken care of. I’m sure you’ll find some way to entertain me.”
Her exhaustion is replaced by pure excitement and mischief. “I have a feeling that you’re gonna regret offering to do this.”
“Yeah, we both have that feeling; it’s in the air.” I motion in the air with my free hand as if it’s swirling around.
She rolls her eyes as she opens the door the rest of the way, a smile lining those perfect plump lips of hers. She skips off to the back of her house to her bathroom and I think I was right when I thought this might be what she needed.
She comes out twenty minutes later in a dress and cardigan. “I’m aware that this is very overdressed for shopping, but it’s literally all that fits me right now.” She grabs the hem of her dress and waves it a little.
I quirk a brow up. “I doubt that’s true, but the dress looks great.”
“Oh, it’s true. If I loop two rubber bands together, I could close my jeans.
But that doesn’t stop the issue of if I reach my arms up, then my belly hangs out and everyone could see what I’ve Jimmy-rigged up and that just sounds really embarrassing and I don’t think in my current mental state I could handle being embarrassed.
” She's almost winded at the end of her tangent, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Like I said, you’re perfect either way.” I nod my head to the door. “Let’s go get you more clothes to fit in that already very full closet.”
Her cheeks flush the prettiest shade of pink at my compliment and I realize maybe I haven’t been doing it enough.
It’s difficult to draw the line because I know how easy it would be to slip right back into being hers.
And as much as I want that, I can’t do that to her.
At least not yet. Maybe my results will be fine and we can figure it out from there.
That’s even if she wants to because after the way I’ve put that wall up, I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted me that way again.
The nearest shopping center is a good drive away, and it’s nothing to rave about. I’m sure it’s missing some of her favorite stores. Doesn’t seem to phase her, though, as we pull into the parking lot, she is almost buzzing with excitement.
“Alright, let's hit up the classics: Kohl’s, Target, and TJ Maxx. If they don’t have something, it’s a lost cause.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be that hard finding something that you look good in.
” It’s wild to me that she thinks she doesn’t look good.
Her dress hugs her curves, showing off that bump of hers; knowing it’s my baby in there just does something to me.
She is the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I'm a man obsessed with a woman who’s not even mine.
“You put me in this position, so you’re kind of obligated to tell me that. It’s like my mom telling me I'm pretty. It’s a requirement of the title.”
“You could be a stranger on the street and I would still think you are the most beautiful woman who has ever graced this earth.”
She opens her mouth and closes it a few times before I realize she isn’t going to find words, which is probably for the best. I put my hand on her lower back, happy to have a hand on her, even if for just a second.
I guide her to the front door of TJ Maxx.
Its large red sign is probably visible from space.
I’m sure a lot of men would complain about the store.
There are about forty different smells assaulting my nose.
To our left is the girly frilly stuff, straight ahead is home goods, and to the right are endless rows of clothes.
But by my side is a happy Aspen and that’s worth every second.
Really, I can’t hate any time spent with her.
I miss her every second she’s gone; I’d do a hell of a lot worse things than shop to spend time with her.
She notices me scanning the room. “You having regrets?”
“Just the opposite.” I smile down at her. “Where do you want to start?”
“Well, we’re here for clothes; I don’t need more shit. I can barely fit in my house; adding a baby will be fun.”
If things were different, I would be building a big house for her to fit everything in.
I’ve saved money my whole adult life, wanting to leave my friends and family something behind when I’m gone.
To pay for my care, if needed. To keep my memory alive and to contribute even when I’m no longer physically able.
So, I could swing it. But I would never want to encroach on her independence.
Never want to make her think that what she is bringing to the table is not enough.
She claps with excitement, as she eyes the signage hanging from the ceiling. “Oh, they have a maternity section. Let’s hope I can find something not frumpy.”
“You can hold it up to you, and I’ll tell you my honest opinion,” I offer.
“Oh sweet honey muffin, no. We are trying on clothes today. This is going to be an all-day event. You should have gotten an extra coffee for yourself.” She turns and gently taps the side of my cheek a couple of times.
Within seconds, I am slowly drowning under seven different shirts, a few pants, and I think there might have been a bra thrown in, but I can barely see over the stack slung across my arms.
“Do you think we maybe need a cart?”
“Why would I need a cart when I got a 6’6 baby daddy who gladly carries my clothes around because he feels bad for me?” she fires back with a wink.
She has me wrapped around her fucking finger, and I’m not even sad about it.
“Silly me to forget.”
“Let's try these on for now and then we can put some back. But I really like this shirt.” She holds one up. “It has such cute bell sleeves and look how cute these little embroidered flowers look. Ugh, adorbs.”
“Yes, totally adorbs,” I reply dryly.
“You’re a better shopping buddy than I thought. I might recruit you more often. Weston has made Willow too busy, and Ava doesn’t want to bring the baby out until summer because of germs.” She shrugs as if anything she said makes sense inside my male brain. It doesn’t.
I tightly smile, a little afraid that I might have just signed myself up for more shopping than I volunteered for, but she’s smiling and happy. “Happy to be of service.”
She walks us over to the dressing room made up of stalls with purple curtains hanging for privacy. Mirrors line the end of the hallway, I assume, so you can get a view from all angles. She plants me in a chair just outside her stall as she slips behind her curtain.
“Well, good news, first one is a no. This would be flattering on no one, much less a pregnant woman,” she mumbles.
My chest shakes with laughter at her narration of the event.
Fuck, she’s so funny even when she doesn’t try.
I usually keep to myself, mostly because I just enjoy watching people, seeing how they work and what makes them tick.
But with her, I can’t help but join in. She makes me enjoy things on levels I didn’t think was possible.
“Oh yeah, this is good,” she announces. “This is more for at home, but look how cute it is.” She flings the curtain open and steps out, and the second I lay eyes on her, my mouth goes dry.
Cute is not how I would describe what she has on.
It’s fucking mouthwatering. It shows off every single bit of her that I'm obsessed with. Her long legs are shown off by the shorts, and good lord, there’s little slits up the side all the way up to the waistband.
I can already imagine how easy it would be to slip through and get my hands on her.
The tank top hugs her breasts in a way that makes my mouth water. Seeing how beautiful her body is while carrying my baby makes me feel alive. There’s electricity boiling through my veins seeing her packaged up like this.
I’ve already considered myself a man's man my whole life, but nothing makes me feel more masculine than watching that woman glow right now. Knowing that baby inside her is mine. God damn.
I want to sink my teeth into her, rip that little set off and devour her.
Her eyes sparkle as my eyes drift upward; she knows exactly what she is doing to me. I am so damn weak when it comes to her.
My phone rings and I silently thank God, because I have no clue how else I could get out of this without breaking down. Without crawling on my damn knees in the middle of this department store, and I’d do it. Without a single ounce of shame.
“Sorry, gotta take this.” I wave my phone in my hand for good measure. “Looks great, you should get it.” And never wear it in front of me goes unsaid.
I hide the bulge straining against my jeans as much as possible; I know I did a shit job of it when I hear her giggle behind me.
As I walk away, I wonder how the hell I am going to keep convincing myself not to give in.