CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
Sleepy head. It’s such a strange thing, yet it causes a warmth deep in my chest. Terms of endearment have never been something in my world. And now they’re coming from the one woman who’s meant to hate me.
I clear my throat. “Good morning.”
“Sleep well?” she asks, arching a brow. There’s a smirk on her lips as she takes a sip of her coffee and eyes Wynter over the rim of her cup.
I glance between them. “Erm, yeah, I guess.” I grab a mug and stick it under the coffee machine. “Did you?”
“Probably not as good as Wynter,” she says and I catch Wynter giving her a warning look.
I pause. “Have I missed something?”
Wynter stands, rolling her eyes as she places her empty mug in the sink. “Ignore her, she thinks she’s funny.” Then she glares at Lucy, “But she’s actually very childish,” she adds in a playful tone.
I wait for the coffee to fill my cup and take it. Lucy gets to her feet. “I was going to take Wynter shopping today,” she says casually. “I wondered if you’d like to come.”
Wynter is already shaking her head. “I’m sure Ray’s got a lot on. He doesn’t want to follow us around shops looking for tents.”
Lucy laughs.
“Tents?” I repeat, confused.
“She’s being dramatic,” Lucy tells me. “She needs some maternity clothes.”
“Then I’d love to come.”
Wynter’s head snaps my way. “Really? It’s not going to be fun.”
Lucy snorts a laugh as she heads for the door. “Then it’s exactly up Ray’s street. I’m going to get ready.”
Wynter sighs, “Honestly, you really don’t need to come.”
I place my coffee down and gently take her hand. She stares down as her fingers entwine around mine. “I want to,” I repeat. “If you don’t mind.”
She glances up and there’s a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I confirm, and before I overthink it, I place a chaste kiss to her head. “I’ve just got to make a couple calls to rearrange some things. Go get ready.”
Once she’s gone, I head to my office and dial Vinn’s number.
“This better be a call to say you’re on your way,” he says dryly.
“How important is it that I’m there?” I ask.
“Don’t do this to me, Ray,” he says with a sigh. “I hate that bastard.”
I laugh. “I know. I’ll send Dale in my place, but something important came up.”
“More important that playing golf with the Dubai prince who could help us make millions?”
“Yeah. Besides, Dale is way better at golf than I am.”
He snorts. “I can believe it. Fine. But you owe me.”
Wynter stares at the floral blouse Lucy is holding up with absolute horror written across her face.
“It’s ugly,” she says flatly.
Lucy turns it towards herself, inspecting it critically. “It’s pretty.”
“It’s something a ninety-year-old woman would wear.”
“I deeply resent that.”
I bite back a smile from my place beside the changing rooms.
So far, we’ve been to three maternity shops.
Wynter has hated every single item she’s been shown.
Apparently, pregnancy fashion consists mainly of giant flowers, depressing beige and fabric that resembles curtains. All Wynter’s words, not mine.
“I swear,” Wynter mutters, shoving another hanger aside, “the second you get pregnant, society just decides you should give up entirely.”
Lucy snorts.
I glance around the shop one last time before speaking carefully. “I might have an idea.”
Both women turn towards me immediately.
“No pressure,” I add quickly, holding my hands up slightly. “But if none of these places are working for you . . .” I hesitate briefly. “A friend’s wife owns a boutique around the corner.”
Wynter sighs dramatically. “Ray, if you take me somewhere with more floral cardigans, I’m walking into traffic.”
“It’s not that kind of boutique.”
Lucy narrows her eyes suspiciously. “What kind of boutique is it then?”
I glance towards Wynter. “Somewhere that might actually have clothes you’d wear.”
She looks exhausted enough to agree to anything at this point. “Fine,” she mutters. “Whatever.”
Ten minutes later, we stop outside the boutique, and the second Wynter looks up at the storefront, she freezes.
“Oh my god.”
I glance sideways at her. Her eyes are huge.
“You know the owner?”
I nod once. “I know her husband better, but yeah. We’ve had dinner together a few times.”
Lucy studies the elegant black signage above the windows. “Who is she?”
Wynter turns to her slowly, looking mildly horrified. “She only headlined London Fashion Week last year.”
“Three years running,” I correct automatically. “She gets very touchy if people forget that.”
Wynter stops walking completely and I recognise that look instantly now.
Panic. It’s the same uncertainty that creeps in whenever she feels out of place.
Before she can retreat into herself, I close the distance between us and gently take her hand.
“You belong here,” I murmur quietly, leaning down slightly so only she hears me. “You’re more than good enough.” Her eyes flick up to mine uncertainly. “She’s not any different from us.”
“She designed Victoria Beckham’s maternity wardrobe,” Wynter hisses.
“She also eats cheese and tomato sauce sandwiches.”
Wynter blinks. “What?”
“White bread. Cheese. Tomato sauce.” I nod seriously. “Absolutely foul habit.”
A laugh escapes her before she can stop it. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. And she’ll kill me if she finds out I told you.”
Wynter shakes her head, smiling now despite herself. Then she takes a deep breath. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s do this.”
I squeeze her hand once before leading her inside.
The boutique is bright and modern, all cream walls and gold rails, soft music drifting through the space. Jenna looks up from behind the desk. The second she spots me, her face lights up.
“Oh my god,” she gasps dramatically. “Is that actually you, Ray?” I groan internally. She rushes around the desk and throws her arms around me before I can escape. “It’s been forever!”
“You’re being dramatic,” I mutter dryly.
She pulls back, grinning. “You missed me.”
“Not quite.”
“Liar.”
Then her eyes land on Wynter. And her entire expression softens.
“Oh wow,” she says quietly. “Hi.”
I step back slightly. “Jenna, this is Wynter.” I glance towards Wynter instinctively. “We’re having our first baby.”
Jenna’s eyes widen instantly. “Oh my god,” she squeals, immediately hugging Wynter before the poor woman can prepare herself.
Wynter looks mildly terrified but hugs her back anyway.
“And I’m apparently today’s spare part,” Lucy adds, giving a small wave. “I’m Wynter’s aunt.”
Jenna immediately abandons Wynter to hug Lucy too. “Sorry,” she says unapologetically. “I’m a hugger.”
Lucy looks startled. “I gathered.”
“The reason we’re here,” I explain, “is because Wynter needs a maternity wardrobe.”
“Hardly an entire new wardrobe,” Wynter rushes to clarify. “Just things that don’t make me feel like a pregnant marshmallow.”
Jenna laughs loudly. “Oh sweetheart, you are absolutely in the right place.”
Before Wynter can react, Jenna grabs her hand and drags her towards a rack near the back. “This collection literally arrived yesterday,” she says excitedly. “You’re seeing it before social media does.”
Wynter glances back at me over her shoulder, panic flashing briefly in her eyes again. I give her a reassuring smile immediately, followed by an encouraging nod.
She studies me for a second before finally relaxing slightly.
Slowly, she turns back towards the clothes while Jenna immediately starts pulling dresses from rails excitedly.
I move towards one of the chairs near the changing rooms and sit down. A second later, Lucy drops into the seat beside me.For a moment, we both watch Wynter laugh nervously while Jenna overwhelms her with fashion opinions. Then Lucy bumps her shoulder lightly against mine.
“This,” she says quietly, a small smile tugging at her mouth, “is unexpected.”
I glance sideways at her. “What? Me behaving like a decent human being?”
She snorts softly. “No.” Her eyes drift back to Wynter. “Her looking happy.” She pauses. “I wasn’t sure you were capable of making that happen.”
Neither was I.
Lucy studies me for another second before sighing dramatically. “You’re becoming annoyingly difficult to hate.”
I smirk faintly. “So, I’m growing on you?”
“Like a fungal infection,” she mutters.
I laugh, shaking my head. “From you, that sounds like a compliment.”