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She kisses me and says softly, “I know.” Two little words, but the emotion is deafening and I feel it as much as she does.
“Okay, let’s hand over all our money and get this cot home. I’m past ready for your lips as my reward for being the best husband in the world.”
She shakes her head at me, amused. “I wish Max was here; he would have built this cot for me without any expectations.”
Her mention of Max spears my heart, but I love that she brought him up. “My brother may have been the nicer one of the two of us, but he was still a male, angel. He would have been on my side over this.”
She rolls her eyes, still smiling, though, and says, “You’re right. Okay, start making this happen so we can get to the good bit of today.”
I don’t need further encouragement. Birdie is more relaxed over her pregnancy than I’ve seen her in a long time. The blood test she had earlier came back all good, and we’ve talked a lot today about setting up the nursery. We’ve also both acknowledged our relationship needs some attention and talked about how we’ll make that happen. Max’s death has drawn us together again, and while I hate how it happened, I’ll do anything to keep it this way.
26
Winter
* * *
“I met with Torres today and we’ve settled on the new price,” I say to King over the phone as I enter my home late on a Monday night two and a half weeks after Max’s death. I wanted to be home in time for dinner tonight, but I got caught at the clubhouse going over stuff with Ransom. Now, it’s almost 10:00 p.m. and I’m annoyed that I’ve missed time with my wife tonight. She’s likely asleep already; the pregnancy has been kicking her ass this last week.
“Good. Does he have a date for the next shipment?” King surprised the fuck out of me when he relented and agreed to me handling all negotiations with Torres from now on. To say that Torres was happy about it, too, is an understatement.
“Yeah, it’ll arrive in three weeks.”
“Keep me updated.” He pauses. “How are you and Birdie?”
For all his ruthless ways, King cares deeply about his brothers and their loved ones, and he hasn’t let me down over Max’s death. He’s checked in on me and Birdie regularly, offering to help me in any way I need. While he’s got a lot going on in Sydney with the club and his family, he stayed in Melbourne for a week after Max died to help Ransom run things here, something I’ll always be grateful for.
“We’re doing good. She’s excited to see Lily next week.” Birdie’s heading to Sydney for a few days next week to spend time with her mum, and also with Lily. It’s her mother’s birthday, and while I can’t leave Melbourne right now, I made sure she booked time to go. She needs this time with her mum and Lily.
King and I finish our call and I slip my phone in my pocket as I head into the bedroom to see if Birdie’s asleep. Halfway there, she meets me in the hallway, carrying cot sheets.
“Hey, you,” she greets me, bringing her lips to mine. “I was beginning to wonder where you were. Is everything okay?”
I pull her back in for another kiss, needing a lot fucking longer with her than the moment she gave. “I missed you today.”
“I missed you, too.” She grips my waist, frowning. “You seem off. Is it Max?”
“Yeah.” He’s been on my mind all day. Fuck knows why. Nothing happened to trigger it, but that’s the thing I’ve learned about grief over the years; it grabs you when you least expect it. “I’m okay, angel, just tired and missing him.”
“I feel the same. I was actually sitting in bed watching TV feeling sad as I remembered stuff the three of us had done over the years when I decided I needed to get out of bed and do something to take my mind off the sadness for a while.” She holds the sheets up. “So here I am, playing in the nursery. You wanna come see what I’ve done?”
I smile. “Fuck yes. Show me.”
I follow her in and laugh when I see the mess she’s created in here. “You’ve been busy.” I fucking love that she’s been busy. I also love the things I see scattered across the nursery floor that I didn’t realise Birdie had bought. Sheets, blankets, toys, and frames to put on the wall.
“Do you like the colours? And prints? I got a little excited the other day while I was shopping with Andrea, and bought all this stuff, but then wondered if you’d like it, too. If you don’t, we can—”
I put my finger to her lips. “I love it all.”
Her brows pull together. “Are you just saying that?”
“No, and not to sound like I don’t give a fuck, but decorating isn’t my thing. I’ll help you do whatever you need me to do, but as far as colours and shit go, I’m good with whatever you choose.”
“Okay, but we should discuss the walls. I want you to at least have a say in that. What colour paint do you think? Like, I’m all about yellow, but if you hate it, maybe we can find a green we both like. But then again, green can be a funny colour, so I’m not sold on it.”
“The only colour that’s out for me is black, so if you want yellow, let’s do yellow.”
She pulls a face. “Black? Seriously, who would paint their baby’s room black? I would never suggest that.”
