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“I did,” he answers with that smirk and a twinkle in his eyes.
“Your baby mama is hungry. Very, very hungry,” I respond, opening up a Styrofoam container and stealing a piece of chicken.
“Take it in the back room before you get sauce on the appointment book,” Barb reprimands with a grin.
Gathering up the bags, careful not to spill any of the precious contents, I get up and meet Linkin around the side of the desk. He bends down and places a kiss on my lips, one I’m happy to reciprocate. “Thanks for bringing me chicken.”
“It’s not for you; it’s for the baby.” He winks before leading me through the salon and into the back room.
While I pull the containers from the bag, Linkin goes to the fridge. “Got any water in here?”
“Bottom drawer.”
He pulls two bottles of water from the fridge and meets me at the table. Like a true gentleman, he doesn’t even say anything when he realizes I’ve already dug in (without silverware). Instead he just smiles down at me and spears a piece of chicken with a plastic fork.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask with a full mouth.
“Anything.”
“Do you want to know what we’re having?”
He glances up, considering my question. “I guess if you want to know, then I’m cool with it. But it would be pretty awesome to be surprised.” His answer makes me smile.
“I kinda want to be surprised.”
“Then we’ll wait and be surprised.” That’s it. End of conversation. It makes me incredibly happy that we’re on the same page.
When we near the end of lunch, he finally asks, “Have you had any luck with the list?”
“I actually have. I’ve narrowed it down to three,” I say, pulling the sheets of paper from my bag that’s next to the table.
Linkin studies the papers carefully, mentally making his own lists of pros and cons. I watch as he keeps going back to the third paper. I hold my breath, anxious to hear what he thinks, especially since that one is my favorite.
“This one,” he says, setting the papers down on the table and pointing to the third choice. “Three bedrooms, family room in back, and a fenced in backyard.”
“That’s my choice too,” I beam happily.
“I’ll call the number and make an appointment,” he says, folding up the paper and sticking it into his pocket.
Linkin and I have shared a bed since we found out we were having a baby. After a few nights of bed-hopping between my place and his, he came to the conclusion that we needed our own place.
While I love staying at the apartment, it has never really felt like my own place. It’s Abby’s. Almost everything was hers, except for the personal effects I took with me when I left Chris. Linkin says his place has always felt more like a place to sleep and shower. He never really made it a home.
“The boys will love the backyard,” I say. Part of what attracted me to the place was the fenced in yard. Not only will that be nice with a small child, but it’ll help keep Linkin’s crazy brothers from running amuck in the neighborhood.
“Definitely. And three rooms,” he points at me. “The Knuckleheads can have a place to stay when they come over.”
Karen was able to find a full-time job with more stable hours at Blossoms and Blooms as Payton’s full-time employee. Even though she’s working day hours now, the boys still look forward to a night a week at our place. Plus, it gives Karen a night to enjoy a little peace and quiet without being slayed by a sword every five minutes.
“Exactly,” I reply, smiling.
Linkin comes around the table and kneels in front of me. “How’s my baby?” he asks softly, his hand rubbing my still-flat stomach.
“Good, so the little peanut must take after me,” I sass.
“Ha! Good isn’t one of the terms I would use to describe you,” he quips, the dirty smirk cresting his lips. “Unless we’re talking about blow jobs. Then, good definitely is on the list.”
“Good? That’s it?” I ask, fretting outrage.
