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“What are you doing?”
He glances over. “Trying to figure out if these are worth buying.”
I walk back toward him and look at the box. “That’s enough wipes for an entire daycare.”
“Good. Then we won’t run out.”
I look from the box to him. “You know this kid still has a few months before we need those, right?”
“It’s not like they go bad, and we’re here now.” He checks the price one more time, then lifts the box into the cart. “I don’t want to come back for as long as possible.”
I stare at him for a second before following as he starts pushing the cart again.
That’s all the justification this man needs to buy a box of baby wipes big enough to have its own gravitational pull.
The last week has sucked. Every time my phone buzzes, my stomach drops, and I’ve spent way too much time imagining what happens if the result says Sumner isn’t the father.
Sumner looks like he’s fine. Okay, that’s not quite right. He’s maybe a little nervous. But he doesn’t seem to be on the edge of his world ending or anything the way I am.
He told me he was this baby’s dad no matter what the test said, then went right on proving it by not changing a single thing.
My throat gets a little tight.
I’ve already admitted the part that scares me most: I love him. I knew it for sure the day Grant dropped this whole paternity nightmare into our lives and I realized how much I had to lose.
What I haven’t figured out is when the hell I’m supposed to tell Sumner.
He looks back when he realizes I’ve slowed down. “You coming?”
“Yeah.” I catch up and bump my shoulder into his arm. “What are we sampling next?”
By the time we make it through checkout, I’m feeling a bit shell-shocked. I’m staring at the receipt in awe but also a fair splash of horror while Sumner pushes everything toward the exit. I’m trying to figure out how paper towels and sparkling water turned into this much money.
“There’s something wrong with this place,” I decide.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like magic. Poof, and things just appear in your cart. Next thing you know, you’ve spent a thousand dollars and don’t know what happened. But it’s also… fun?”
He laughs as the doors slide open and the Florida heat hits us hard enough to fog my sunglasses for a second.
We’re almost to the truck when my phone buzzes inside my purse, and my hand immediately plunges inside to dig it out.
The email preview fills the screen, and my steps slow to a stop when I read the subject line.
New laboratory results are available.
For a second, I just stand there staring at it.
Sumner makes it a few steps with the cart before he realizes I’m no longer beside him. When he turns and sees my face, the smile disappears.
“The results?”
I nod and glance around the parking lot. A cart rattles somewhere behind me, cars crawl up and down the row looking for spaces, and a family nearby is trying to fit what looks like an entire living room into the back of an SUV.
There are too many people around for this.
“I can’t open it out here.”
