Page 32 of The Flame Game

“That is too many boots.”

“It is not too many boots,” my husband replied.

“You must really like unicorns,” the clerk said, her tone amused.

My husband smiled. “Guilty as charged.”

“But how can it not be too many boots?”

“Because I said so.”

I frowned, staring at the boots on my feet. I tested them out around the store, liking the way they felt. “They’re really nice.”

“And they look great on you. Do you want to wear them out?” Quinn asked.

I hesitated, but then I nodded.

The clerk carefully removed the tag and carried it over to the pile of jackets destined to come home with us. “If you’ll come this way, we’ll get you measured for everything, and I’ll see what we have in stock in your sizes, and everything else will be custom made for you. I’ll need a phone number and email address we can use to contact you when your order is ready.”

Quinn spotted something near the purses, and a moment later, he returned holding a wallet and coin purse with the cindercorn stamped on them. “It seems this store knew you would one day come to Vegas and prepared its shelves just for you.”

I laughed, grabbing the wallet out of his hand and admiring it. “This is so cool!”

“There’s a keychain, too.”

“We need seven of those.”

“Seven?” I blurted.

“Two for the kids, two for the kids on the way, one for me, one for you, and one as the spare set of keys.”

Huh. “Babies need keys?”

“They will in a few years.”

“Oh? You’re expecting?” the woman asked.

“We’re expecting twins. It’s still early, so she’s not showing.” Quinn smiled, and he kissed my temple. “I’m pampering her now, and after the little ones are born, she tends to have trouble keeping her weight up, so everything should fit shortly after.”

“It’s true. He tries to feed me everything, and I just refuse to gain much weight. I expect he’ll have me at a doctor every other day because he’s a worrier.”

Quinn sighed. “Once every two weeks to begin with.”

“Let’s just get measured before I run out of here or embarrass myself further, Sam.”

“You’re fine. You haven’t done anything embarrassing.”

“Yet. I haven’t done anything embarrassing yet.”

“Why would you even think you’re going to do something embarrassing?” he asked in an exasperated tone.

“Well, I’m breathing, aren’t I?”

I loved his patience-worn sigh. “You’re something else.”

The rampage through the store left us with more things than we could carry, so I made use of my new phone, debating which family member to impose upon. After a ten-minute debate with myself, I tapped the button that would call my father, the one I actually liked.

“Bailey,” my father greeted. “How are you enjoying your time with your husband?”