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“You don’t think it’s weird?”
“I told you, Reed. I thoroughly enjoy your particular brand of weird,” he says, leaning in to plant a short kiss on my lips. Then he comes around to the other side to help me out.
Just as I’m getting my bearings again, Blake reaches down and laces his fingers through mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world for us to be walking into the bookstore hand in hand. Meanwhile, my inner twelve-year-old girl is squealing so loudly that I can’t even hear myself think anymore.
“Lead the way.” He gestures with his free hand once we’re inside.
I can barely contain my giddiness. We head over to the fiction section first, and I reluctantly let go of him to pick up the book I came in for, plus a couple more that look interesting. He reaches over to pluck the books from my hands and stacks them in his capable arms. I pay a second glance to his forearms since his sleeves are still rolled up, and they look even sexier as they support my reading habit.
It takes me a few seconds to peel my eyes away, and I look up to find him staring at me expectantly. “Oh, um, that’s it,” I say quietly.
“I was thinking we could check out the baby section before we go? I’d like to educate myself so I can avoid both the scary Google rabbit holes and having to text my sister-in-law a dozen questions per day.”
I furrow my brow. “You’ve been asking Tenley pregnancy questions?”
“What? No—who me? Pfft. I would never,” he says with exaggerated disgust, making me giggle.
I attempt to school my reaction as we cross the store and make it to theWhat to Expectcorner, and he adds a few titles relating to pregnancy, childbirth, and breastfeeding to the stack in his arms.
“I’m not making any assumptions,” he clarifies as I eye up a nursing mother’s guide. “Only grabbing a little of everything, just in case.”
“Oh, man, I haven’t even really thought about that stuff,” I mutter, more to myself than anything. “I’d always figured I’d breastfeed the babies I never thought I’d really have, but I know nothing about tandem nursing.”
He smiles ruefully. “We’ll read the books together. And once you make your decision, I’ll be ready with whatever you need. You know, nipple cream or bottle warmers, whatever it takes.”
“Blake, do you realize that we’ll needtwo of everything? Two car seats, two cribs, two wardrobes? And then once I go back to my own place, that’s likefoursets of everything!”
He lifts his free hand to my arm to soothe me. “Hang on, Lo. Let’s not worry about all the logistics just yet. I’ll make sure we have everything we need, I promise. You and the babies will never go without, okay?”
I look down and nod. “I know, I just hate the idea of you spending your 401k on us.”
He lets out a short laugh. “I can afford a couple of cribs, babe. I do all right financially, and I haven’t exactly had anything worthwhile to spend my money on before this. Don’t worry about it.”
“Right, but … shit, I’m gonna need a new car, and I—don’t you dare think you’re buying me a car!”
His eyes widen with feigned innocence. “I was thinking no such thing,” he lies and tries to disguise a smile. “But what Iamthinking about is why you would want to move out so soon after the babies are born.”
“I just figured once I wasn’t in this placenta-previa predicament anymore that I’d go back to my own place,” I explain, my heartbeat drumming loudly in my ears. “You weren’t expecting us to continue living together after this, right?”
He has the nerve to look hurt. “Well, yeah, at least for a while.” He clenches his jaw as I stare at him. “Hell, Loren, you didn’t think I’d just drop you off on the way back from the hospital and leave you on your own with our newborn twins, did you?”
I sniffle, my eyes watering on their own accord. “I … I don’t …”
Then his expression softens, and he places the stack of books down on the nearest table before pulling me into his arms. “Come here,” he begins, placing a kiss on top of my head as I cry into his dress shirt. “I’m sorry.”
Ugh. Of course, he smells amazing.
“No,I’msorry, because I honestly have no freaking clue as to why I’m crying right now.”
“Maybe we could find the answer in one of those books,” he offers, making me laugh.
“Maybe.” My voice cracks again before I pull away.
He brings his hands up to wipe my cheeks. “I’ve overwhelmed you again. Let’s table that other stuff until you’re ready, okay? In the meantime, you’ll just have to compromise by letting me buy you a certified pre-owned minivan.”
I snort, and he drops his hands.
“Come on,” he says, piling our stack of books in the crook of his left elbow—hello again, tasty forearm—and clasping my hand in his on the right. “I want to show you something I spotted on the way in.”
