Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Mindy
“I can’t believe they left us alone to do our shopping, can you?” Jolie asks as we push our carts through the baby store.
I giggle and reply, “They’re busy trying to figure out how they’re getting the bedroom sets we picked out home, since neither of them want to pay the ridiculous delivery fee.”
“Knowing Dex, he’ll just go rent a trailer or something,” Jolie muses. “I can’t believe we’ve got a little over two months left, can you?”
“No, not really.” It reminds me that we need to decide on a color for the nursery.
One of the things I love best about our home is that the nursery is an attached room to our bedroom.
Once our daughter gets older, we’ll move her into one of the other rooms in the house, but that won’t happen for a little while at least.
Ever since the night when Clark came to our house, Cruz has been hovering.
Even though Clark’s bond was revoked and he’s sitting in jail waiting for a trial date, my husband is taking no chances at all.
The funny thing is, more women have come forward to say he raped them as well, which the detective handling my case was positively giddy about because it will help close about half a dozen cases, including mine, once we go to trial.
So, while part of me wants to get this done and over with, I’d rather they get everything concerning his nefarious deeds so he goes to prison for a long time, if not for the rest of his natural life.
“You’ve spaced out again, are you okay?” she questions, nudging my shoulder as we stop in front of a wall full of colorful onesies.
“Yeah, just thinking about the night that man showed up at our house is all,” I admit.
“I swear, I’ve never been more frightened in my life.
If he had come earlier, around six or so?
I might have just let him in especially since he had his face somewhat covered.
I would’ve taken him at his word, Jolie. ”
“I don’t think you would’ve, Min. What happened has made you more cautious than you were before, but I did wanna say that I’m proud of how far you’ve come. Cruz has a lot to do with that, doesn’t he?”
Grinning at her, I remove one of the onesies that has caught my eye. “Look at this one, it’s kind of old fashioned with the tiny flowers, but I love it!”
“Grab one for me, too, please. And stop avoiding the question.”
“I’m not doing it intentionally, I just don’t know how to answer you,” I admit.
“He makes me feel like I can accomplish anything and that’s done loads for my self-esteem.
Plus, he’s so attentive to me with this pregnancy that it blows me away sometimes.
I mean,” I lean in and whisper, “we haven’t even had sex yet, and he’s willing to shave my legs for me since I can’t maneuver correctly anymore! ”
“What’s holding you back?” she asks, tossing in two more matching onesies into our carts. At this rate, our daughters will be lookalikes, kind of how Jolie and I were when we were kids. We loved wearing matching outfits and did it frequently.
Sighing, I shrug. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I think he’s waiting on me to initiate something, if I’m being honest with myself, but I have no clue how to do that at all!”
“Girl, just grab him by the dick and squeeze,” she suggests, as if it’s as easy as that. “If nothing else, it’ll get his attention.”
I can feel my face heating because that has crossed my mind and I’m about to respond when strong arms wrap around me from behind and I hear, “What are you two cackling about now?”
Since he realized that I don’t recoil at his touch, he’s started doing little things like that, which help me more than he knows.
He doesn’t treat me like I’m less than or broken, he treats me normally.
Turning, I look up at my husband, something I still pinch myself over, and say, “You know us, we graze from topic to topic.”
“Dex went to rent a U-Haul for a few hours so we can get everything back home,” he says when I look around to see where Jolie’s hubby is standing. “He figured by the time he got back, y’all might be through.”
Jolie snorts and retorts, “Not a chance! Do you see all the great deals?”
“Aren’t y’all having a shower or something?” Cruz questions.
I snicker and nod. “Both Nonna’s and Abuela’s churches are hosting one for each of us. Well, we’ll have a co-shower at each of their churches. But we’re not buying newborn stuff, we’re getting stuff that’s a bit bigger because babies grow so quickly.”
“I’m thinking I may need to go check out another dresser,” he muses. His smile causes his dimples to shine and there’s something about his happiness that’s cathartic to my healing soul.
“Make sure you grab plenty of baby clothes hangers too!” I call out as he starts to walk away. He comes back and lightly brushes his lips over mine while Jolie watches with tears in her eyes.
With my lips now tingling, I look at her and say, “Not a word!”
She mimics zipping up her lip and tossing the key over her shoulder before she bursts out laughing. “You should see the look on your face, my friend! If I had to give it a name I’d say longing desire.”
“Stupid pregnancy hormones.”
“I like this color best,” I confess to Cruz. It’s a soft rose gold color and we’ll do the trim in a dove gray.
“What do you think about these?” he asks, pointing to a display that has large wooden letters carved that can be used to either spell out the baby’s name or their monogram.
“I think once we decide what to name her, that would be a great idea. We could paint them gray, don’t you think?”
“We should probably decide on a name, then,” he muses, leaning in to kiss my temple.
“I had another idea, but it might be a bit old-fashioned,” I reply.
“Hit me with it, kitten.”
“What do you think of Violet Grace Cruz?” I ask.
I watch him close his eyes, his lips moving as he repeats it several times. “I like it,” he finally says.
“Then I’m gonna grab the letters so I can get this project going. We have to get the tape for the trim as well as roller brushes.”
“Kitten, you’re not going to be painting, remember?” he states. “The fumes won’t be good for you or the baby, so you and Jolie are going for a spa day while Dex, Brock, and I tackle the nurseries.”
“Oh! I forgot about that. Lately, I seem to be forgetting so much that it’s driving me crazy,” I reply.
“That’s what I’m here for, to keep you focused,” he teases.
I giggle and swat at his arm before grabbing his hand and lacing my fingers with his.
After talking to Jolie, as well as my therapist, I’m trying to let him know that I’m willing to move forward with our relationship.
All these months together have shown me that I have a man who will walk alongside me no matter the battles we might face.
His patience as we wait for news from his attorney concerning a new trial or at the very least, a thorough independent review, as well as the constant delays with Clark’s case, is unbelievable to me.
Because I’ve ranted, raved, broken down in hysterics, and bed rotted a day or two. Yet Cruz simply shrugs and keeps on keeping on. He’s good for me too; the confidence and self-worth are still a work in progress, but every single day I feel more like the old me.
Yes, what happened to me was terrible and traumatic, but at the end of the day, I’ve been chosen to be my daughter’s mom, and what a blessing that’s going to be for both of us.
I still have my days, of course, but the panic attacks have lessened.
I’m not sure what’s going to happen when the trial starts, but maybe that jerk will take a plea deal since there are so many additional charges that have been added.
He doesn’t say anything, just gives my hand a light squeeze as he pushes our cart, one-handed mind you, to the checkout area.
He never lets my hand go, even though he has to twist at an odd angle to get his wallet out of his back pocket.
I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.
It’s as if something has shifted between us.
Part of me laments the fact that if I play my cards right we’ll be having sex sooner rather than later because my body no longer resembles the one I remember from a few short months ago.
My breasts are huge, which Jolie takes great delight in picking on me for, and my belly is loud and proud, as are my hips and ass.
I suspect I’ll be needing a whole new wardrobe once I lose my baby weight because there’s no way on earth my jeans will go over my hips any longer.
Still, there’s going to be a little girl at the end of this pregnancy, and while I’ll forever hate how she was conceived, she’s worth the shift in my body. “Ready?” he asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah, just got lost in my head for a minute,” I reply.
As we walk out to his truck, he lightly probes, asking, “Is there anything you need to talk about?”
Be brave, Mindy, and tell him what you want, my mind whispers.
“Actually, yes, but can we wait until we get home?”
“Whatever you want, kitten,” he says as he helps me into the passenger seat before he proceeds to load up the bed of the truck.
How did I get so damn lucky? And will I have the guts to follow through with our pending talk?