Chapter 29
brADY
“How the hell does one tiny human need so much stuff?” I mutter to myself as Sage and I walk into the massive baby store.
“Hell if I know,” she mumbles back. Her hand is clutching mine tightly, and when I look over at her, her eyes are wide as she looks around the store.
At least I’m not the only one feeling overwhelmed. We make our way to the first aisle with rows upon rows of pacifiers, bottles, and a pile of other stuff I can’t even identify. I pick up a box that says it’s a bottle sterilizer. “Can’t you just put stuff in the dishwasher?”
Sage peers over my shoulder and shrugs. “No idea.”
Then I happen to see the price. “Holy shit,” I blurt out, putting the box back. “Dishwasher it is.”
Sage has moved on to the next aisle, picking things up, then putting them back. Her hand lingers on a set of towels with animal faces in the corners that seem to be folded over like hoods, I guess.
“Those are cute,” I say, coming up beside her. “You want to get them?”
She smiles, still looking at the towels. “We don’t have to get them today, there’s time.”
I consciously avoid looking at the price tag and pull the towels off the shelf. “We gotta get something.”
Her face glows with a soft, yet happy, expression before she threads her arm through mine and leans her head against my shoulder. We wander through a few more aisles, laughing over some insane gadgets and bizarre looking toys.
“Absolutely no toys that can’t have the batteries removed,” I say as we hurry past a big circular thing with flashing lights that is making nonstop noises.
“Agreed.”
The stuffed animal selection is impressive, and when Sage isn’t looking I grab a giraffe that looks like the one on the hooded towel set, keeping it hidden underneath the towels. Then we’re in the clothing section.
“Look at how tiny this is,” Sage croons, holding up the smallest onesie I’ve ever seen. It’s light pink, with slightly darker hearts all over it. She drapes it over her belly, then looks up at me with the biggest smile.
Her excitement is contagious, and I immediately picture our newborn daughter wearing that onesie, cradled in her mother’s arms.
Another couple walks past, and their conversation isn’t hard to overhear.
“…just saying we don’t need a two-thousand-dollar stroller! It’s not like we’re running a marathon with it.”
“I know, but…”
Fuck. Two grand for a stroller? I cast a panicked glance at Sage to see if she heard them talking, but she’s drifted away and is looking at more clothes.
I take a minute to collect myself before going to join her.
I don’t want her to sense my emotions, even though I know we’re going to have to talk about this sooner or later.
But as she said, we don’t have to get all this stuff today. I still have time to figure everything out. I make my way over to her, and she looks over her shoulder at me.
“I feel like we need to make a list of what we actually need, because there’s so much here, I could easily be tempted into buying everything.”
I force out a laugh that hopefully doesn’t sound too desperate. “Yeah, good idea. A list.”
Tilting her head, a small frown mars her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yup, fine,” I answer quickly, my hand shooting out and grabbing the first thing I touch. “Hey, look at this. What do you think?”
She glances down at the item in my hand, then back to me with raised eyebrows. “You want to get our daughter a pajama set that says ‘Mama’s Little Man’?”
I wince and take a look at the random set of clothes in my hand. “Ah, yeah, guess I didn’t read it closely enough.”
Sage touches my arm. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
I swallow my nerves, putting the boy pajamas back on the rack. “Sure. Just a lot to think about. So much stuff to buy.”
“Well, we can probably find things cheaper at other stores or even look at some consignment shops. No kid needs top-of-the-line everything.”
Somehow, I manage to hide my sigh of relief at Sage’s pragmatic reply. “Totally.”
Sage takes my hand, tugging me out of the clothing section. “Come on, let’s see if they have a list of the top must-haves or something, then we can go home and research budget friendly options.”
I pull her to a stop. “No, you wanted to come here and look at nursery ideas. We haven’t even made it to the cribs.” No way am I going to let my worries impact her happiness. “Come on, let’s see what the options are.”
It’s not easy, but I conceal my sticker shock as we wander through the display of cribs and other furniture.
Mentally, my mind is going wild trying to add up all the expenses that are mounting quickly.
When Sage announces she’s ready to go, I don’t argue.
We pay for the few items we’ve decided to buy and get in the car to drive home.
Partway there, Sage’s hand lands on my thigh, startling me out of my thoughts. “That was intense.”
I steal a quick look her way to see her staring at me, an unreadable expression on her face. Looking forward again, I focus on the road. “No kidding. Who knew there were so many options for baby bottles.”
“Did you see all the breast pumps? Manual, electric, holy crap, I’m gonna be a cow hooked up to a milking machine.”
She’s trying to make a joke, but the best I can muster up is a half-hearted chuckle. “I missed that section, I guess.”
“Brady, talk to me. Something’s been off ever since we got to the store.”
Thank God we’re close to my apartment. I hold off on saying anything until I’ve pulled into my parking spot. If I have to bare my soul, my deepest worries, I don’t want to be driving when I do.
Once the engine is turned off, I lean my head back and blow out a slow breath. “I’m just panicking a bit over some of the price tags in that store. You know, thinking about how much everything costs, all the stuff the baby’s gonna need.”
“Hey, we’ll figure it out. Besides, like we said, our kid doesn’t need fancy stuff.” She rubs my leg reassuringly. “We’re in this together.”
I turn my head to face her and lay it all out there. “Sage, the team only pays me during the season, and it’s not exactly a massive salary. Most of the guys have other jobs they work in the offseason. I…I haven’t been able to find one yet.”
I hate how pathetic I feel confessing that. How small my voice sounds, how weak I feel having to admit that I can’t provide what she needs.
But Sage doesn’t even flinch. “Brady. Do you really think so little of me that I would somehow expect you to provide everything for me and our child?”
My eyes widen in horror. “No! Not at all, that’s not it—”
“Hold on. Let me finish,” she says calmly. “I told you in the very beginning that I didn’t need anything from you. Certainly not money. I can do this on my own if I have to.”
My heart starts to crack in half.
“But,” she continues, “I don’t want to do it alone.
I want to do it with you. It doesn’t matter how much money you make, or what I make, or what kinds of strollers and cribs we can buy for our child.
It only matters that we love them as much as we possibly can, and that we keep them safe. Can you do that?”
I nod emphatically.
“Good. Can you believe me when I say all we need right now is each other? And we’ll figure out the rest together?”
Once again, I nod. My shoulders drop as the tension recedes from them. The weight that’s been pressing down on me loosens. Her reassurances might be about money, but they also strike a deeper chord within me. I’m not doing this alone. We’re in it together.
“Let’s go inside. I need to pee again,” she says sheepishly. And finally, I let loose a real laugh.
Inside the apartment, Sage hustles to the bathroom while I take the bag with what we purchased into the spare bedroom, which will eventually become the nursery.
I’ve started to move a few things out of here and emptied the dresser that was in Barrett’s room back in Manitoba.
And I have plans to move the furniture around so the bed goes against one wall, leaving room for a crib.
Sage finds me a few minutes later, studying the space. She lifts one of my arms, and lays it across her shoulders, snuggling into my side. “Whatcha thinking about?”
I pull her back to my front, so I can lower my arms and cup her belly, taking some of the pressure off her. “Just figuring out the layout. I think we can get the crib on that wall by the window if we move the bed to the other side.”
Her head falls back against my shoulder. “I like that idea. Can we paint the walls?”
“By we, you mean me, right? Because you’re not inhaling paint fumes, little mama.”
She giggles, then steps out of my arms, picking up the bag from the baby store.
“Wait.” I snatch the bag from her, then reach inside and lift out the giraffe toy I managed to sneak past her.
She takes it, staring down at the plush animal for a second. “When did you get this?” she finally asks, holding the giraffe tightly to her chest.
“It seemed like you really wanted it, so,” I shrug. “With the towels you loved, I thought maybe we could lean into a safari theme.”
“Not baseball?” she teases, her eyes sparkling with emotion.
“Baseball-playing safari animals?” I reply before pulling her into my arms.
“Perfect,” she says, resting her cheek on my chest. We stay like that for a minute or two, and the feel of her heartbeat steady against mine settles me in a way nothing else does.
The mental load of worrying about how to afford everything, how to juggle it all, and be enough for everyone who depends on me is still there. But tonight, that load feels a whole lot lighter. Tonight, I know I’m not alone.
“It’s starting to feel real, isn’t it?” Sage says softly, still holding the giraffe between us.
“It is. Really amazing.”