“I’m good, promise.” I kiss his palm. Remington pulls me into a hug, and a low rumble vibrates from his chest and rattles every one of my nerves.
Dipping to whisper to me, he says, “I love it when you blush like that. I can’t wait to get you alone later and see if I can make other parts of your skin match.” I can feel my blush deepen as he kisses my cheek, walks off to grab a plate for dinner, and leaves me beyond flustered.
As much as I wanted Remington to make good on his dirty promises to me, we didn’t go back to his house together. He got called out to a fire on the east side of town. According to the spouse text group there was a massive warehouse fire and all the FGFD guys got called plus the crews from two neighboring towns. The girls said it isn’t often for fires this big to happen or for them all to get called at once, but when they do everything is dropped and they answer the call.
Before he left, Remington quickly said goodbye to his parents and Sutton. Then he stalked across the room to me, not caring that we were not alone and kissed me deeply. “I love you, Lainey.” His deep voice is as urgent as his kiss.
“I love you, too. Be careful, Remington.” I lock my hands on his face, making him pause for a beat to really look at me before he rushes off.
“Always, baby.” Kissing one more time, he leaves me standing with his family but takes my heart out the door with him.
I hear a sigh behind me and turn to see Charles andRenee hugging. I know that it must be hard for them to watch their son run into danger. Sutton is sitting on the couch, staring off into space, biting her bottom lip. I go sit next to her and wonder if I can offer any comfort to her worried mind.
“She doesn’t have a crib,” Sutton says, her hand resting on her large belly. “He was going to build her crib when he got home. It’s in her room, in the box. I can’t even go in there. She is going to be here so soon. I am thirty-seven weeks. How am I going to be her mother when I can’t even go in her room, Lainey?”
“Maybe we can go in together?” I offer.
Sutton nods and closes her eyes as if she is willing her grief to stay locked inside herself.
“I know it’s not the same. It can’t be, but we are here for you. We can make her room comfortable and special. Add some touches that will honor Deck if you want to?”
“We hadn’t settled on a theme or anything like that for decorating. I wanted to wait until we knew if we were having a boy or a girl. But now ... I think we should base it off of the blanket. What do you think?” Sutton looks at me, and the first small glimmer of something that resembles happiness or hope is lingering just beneath the surface.
Taking her hand I say, “I think that isexactlywhat her nursery should be. It’s like Deck picked it himself. He knew what you loved and gave you that gift.”
Renee walks over, having been listening to our conversation and bends over the back of the couch wrapping us both in a hug. “I think this baby nursery should be our special project for us to do together! A girls’ project for our new little girl in the family.”
“Okay,” Sutton agrees. This is the most she has talked about anything regarding the baby or plans for the future. I, for one, am going to grab on with both hands and try to make this room perfect for the baby, of course, but for Sutton, too. Idon’t want her to walk in and feel sad. I want her to go into that room and have it feel like it’s her sanctuary, like Renee’s garden.
“What if we did a mural on one of the walls?” I brainstorm aloud. “We could make it look like a beautiful meadow with wildflowers, and even paint a few of the fluffy sheep to match the blanket?”
Sutton’s actually getting excited at the idea, and Renee gives me a look, one that says she is proud of me for being right where I am supposed to be.
“I am not sure how we can find someone to paint a mural like that,” I say, grabbing my phone so I can start a list of things to do for the room. “But maybe we can research someone local and get some pricing estimates? I can ask Kendra too, she knows lots of artists. Oh, Sutton, do you have any store connections, or an artist you know of?”
The two women share a quick look that I don’t really understand—it must be some kind mother-daughter thing. Sutton says, “Actually I think I know the perfect person. Let me take care of that part, Lainey. I’ll see what their availability is.”
“Great!” Renee exclaims. “Charles! Bring the girls some snacks, we have planning to do for our granddaughter.” Her smile is bright and contagious.
I look over at Sutton and I see that for the first time since we were all laughing in her kitchen, looking at Kendra’s mug before that doorbell rang, Sutton has a real smile on her face.
35
Remington
The fire was a monster, and it took three crews and the entire night to get it under control and put out. Thank fuck there were no injuries, and the place was abandoned to begin with. That building has sat there for a long time taking up space and rotting. Nobody would buy it or fix it up. It was an obvious case of arson that started the fire. Gas cans and evident fuel trails led up to the building. The whole thing was sloppy and screamed amateur. Unfortunately, because the warehouse was not being used there were no active security cameras anywhere on the property.
Pulling into my driveway, all I could think about was another hot shower and crawling into bed with Lainey. She was probably ready to get up and start the workday, but maybe I could convince her to sleep in late. Wrapping her in my arms and smelling her honey shampoo was exactly what I needed right now.
The house was still mostly dark when I walked in, which I wasn’t expecting. I figured she’d be in the kitchen making her cup of tea before needing to start getting ready for her workday. “Lainey?” I call out and then listen, thinking that maybeshe’s in the shower. Walking toward the bedroom I hear a weird noise, but it isn’t the shower.
My poor woman is white as a sheet, sweaty hair pulled half back in one of her little claw clips, and she’s on the floor, gripping the toilet like her life depends on it. Just as I fully push the door open, she pukes into the basin, her body shaking with the force of it even though not much comes out.
Realizing I am there when I smooth a hand down her damp back, Lainey startles. Looking at me with sick, glassy eyes she says, “Remington. Please ... Go.” Her voice is like sandpaper, making me wonder how long she had been at this.
“Baby, I am not leaving you like this. How long have you been sick?” I touch her forehead, and her skin feels like a scorching flame on my hand.
Sitting back against the tub she tells me, “I got back around nine last night. Your dad dropped me off since you had to take the truck. I got ready for bed but didn’t feel good, so I went and laid down. Then I guess I started puking around midnight? Why, what time is it now?” She closes her eyes, utterly exhausted.
