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Firecracker
Nick
“Hey,baby,”Leighsays,walking into the kitchen and wrapping her arms around my waist.
“Hi.” I turn the stove off and pull the pan from the burner before spinning around and kissing her. “How was therapy?”
After everything that happened in late September and October with her mom’s death and the aftermath, she took Braden’s suggestion about therapy. The guy Braden sees was not a great fit for her, but he recommended a female colleague who has been perfect for Leigh.
She shrugs. “Sixth session down, and I’m getting used to it now. Still thankful it’s remote. It makes me feel safer when I’m in my own home.”
I can’t help but smile at that. Ilovethat she’s comfortable calling this her home now. Though we took our time moving our stuff in, we’ve been officially living here together since the night she stormed onto the porch eight weeks ago. I’m not going to say it’s been bliss because, let’s face it, she is a hell of a lot to handle—which I love. I also have a pretty steep learning curve. I’ve grown more responsible over the last couple of years, but I also still asked my mom to make me grilled cheese sandwiches when I was hungry. I’m trying my best to learn basic skills for living on my own—I don’t want Leigh taking care of me like that. Especially with her being so pregnant.
One more month and I’m going to be a dad.
Fuck, now I’m nauseous.
We had our baby shower a few weeks ago. Thank God for the apartment. I don’t know where we would’ve put the mass quantity of stuff if we didn’t have our own space. We have the crib set up in our bedroom, a play pen thing in the living room along with a bouncer and a swing. Who knew babies needed so much stuff?
Everyone but me, apparently.
“Where’d you drift off to? Having a sexy daydream about me?” Leigh teases.
I lean in and kiss her neck. “Mm. I wish.”
I turn back to the stove and scoop the grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—Leigh’s current favorite food—off the pan and onto plates.
“Hey,” she pokes my ribs. “What’s wrong?”
Damn this honesty thing going both ways. I don’t want her to know how worried I am. “Just having a moment of self-doubt,” I say, carrying the plates over to the small kitchen table.
“Self-doubt?”
I grab her hands to steady her as she eases herself into the chair, then I sit down opposite her.
“Being a dad. Looking around the apartment reminds me how little I know about babies and what they need.”
She takes my hand and looks at me seriously. “Yes, babies have a learning curve to them. In some ways, I have no idea what I’m doing either. Like, at all. We’ll be getting a crash course. But when it comes to needs, that’s not too hard. Safe place to live. A crib. Diapers. Milk. And love. We’ve got the crib and loads of diapers. I’ve got the milk.” She smiles as she gestures to her boobs, making me smile, too. “You made the safe place to live happen. And you are so full of love. I’m not worried at all. We’ll figure it out. I mean, there will probably be plenty of yelling and crying—me yelling, you crying,” she jokes. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”
Fuck, I love her.
I lift her hand to my lips and kiss it. “Together. Always, Señorita.”
