Chapter Fifty
Melonie
I returned to my bed a little after the sun came up. Linc was passed out, and I didn’t want to find out what it would be like to wake up beside him, so I crept back to my room like a coward.
Just like the last time, we moved through our morning routines without any awkwardness. Though he did make a lot more food than usual for breakfast, and he kissed my shoulder while we ate. I feel like a teenager, tracking such a small gesture.
Now we’re at the baby supply store, and I stand in the bath-time aisle next to Linc, who is having the time of his life picking out various bath toys and bottles of baby wash.
“Mel, look, they even have baby bathrobes.” He turns to me with bright eyes, holding out a yellow terry-cloth robe. “This one is a duck!”
I take it out of his hand. “It’s really cute.”
“Throw it in the cart.”
“Linc, the cart is half full, and we’re still in the first aisle.”
“True.” He looks down at the pile in the cart. “We should move on to medical stuff.”
We round the corner and start down our list—first aid kit, infrared thermometer, and nail clippers are marked off.
Linc looks at the shelves. “We should take a first aid class.”
“We could do that.”
“I’ll see where we can take one and enroll.”
“Sounds good. Can we go look at books?”
We make our way across the store. Linc pushes the cart, and I swear he dressed to make me suffer today. He’s in hot dad mode—loose jeans, plain navy t-shirt, and a red Sox cap. Backward.
Shit.
I walk behind him and watch his ass as he walks. For a guy, he does have a bit of a bubble butt. Thoughts of my hands on it flood my mind. Why do pregnancy hormones make you horny? The deed was already done, so why would mother nature insist that we want it even more once we’re already pregnant? Considering I had a fabulous orgasm last night, I shouldn’t be so worked up at the moment.
I shove my questions aside; I can ask Google for answers later.
I still haven’t spoken with him about my feelings or even hinted at the subject. I feel like a fool, because last night would have been the perfect opportunity to talk about it. I hate that I’m so afraid of rejection, so afraid to rock the boat.
“Mel, quit staring at my ass.”
I startle out of my thoughts and feel heat rise in my cheeks. “I wasn’t staring at your ass.”
He stops the cart and turns around. “Your cheeks say otherwise. Help me find the books.” He grins, and I walk ahead to hunt down the books.