Looking down at the stack of baby boy pajamas in my hand, I have to admit they are cute, but Finn doesn’t need seven pairs of pajamas. Of course, Slade’s logic is with seven pairs, I won’t have to do laundry as much. His other argument is that Finn is messy, and it’s always good to have extra. That makes total sense, and honestly, I can’t believe a man who was a committed bachelor up until a few days ago has eased into the whole family thing so well.
Marriage? He proposed marriage.
As if declaring his love for me wasn’t enough, he upped the stakes and asked me to marry him. I knew he was a driven man, ambitious as the day is long. You don’t have his kind of success at thirty without having those things. I didn’t think drive and ambition had anything to do with love, but apparently, for Slade, they do. Like most men, he wants what he wants.
I’ve never even thought about getting married in any real way. I’m too young. My life was too chaotic until recently. My own mother was never even married. The concept is almost foreign to me, but the idea of it is nice. I don’t believe it will ever happen, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like the idea of being his wife.
It’s tempting to say yes and to jump headfirst, but when you’re carrying what I’m carrying, you know if you jump, you’ll sink and probably take those you love the most right down with you.
I look over at Slade across the store, pushing Finn in his stroller, stopping periodically to hold up some item of clothing to Finn, who apparently now has an opinion on his wardrobe. The current item under review is a baby leather bomber jacket. I really hope it’s fake. I hate to think some poor animal died to make an overpriced baby jacket.
Slade holds it up so I can see. “Finn likes this one.”
“Finn doesn’t need a leather jacket.”
“It’s on sale,” Slade says.
“It’s on sale because no baby wears leather, and it’s summer in Nashville.”
Frowning, Slade hangs it back up. God, I love him. How did I let that happen? I shouldn’t love him. My love will only get him hurt. As much as I know this is a bad idea, I can’t stop it. It’s as though Slade reached into my chest and took my heart. He didn’t ask nicely. God knows he wasn’t polite about it. He stole my heart before I even realized what was happening.
I doubt he’ll give it back easily.
So when this goes south, and it will, I’ll leave without my heart.
Slade flashes me a grin across the store, taking Finn from his stroller, picking up his little hand, and waving it at me. I wave back, giving my guys a smile. They walk toward me, Slade eyeing my arms. “That’s all? I thought you needed those onesie things too?”
“This is good,” I say, feeling stupid. Slade certainly pays me enough that I can shop at better places than the thrift shop, but some habits are hard to break. I learned early on that you should always save for a rainy day, always keep a little food stored behind for when there isn’t any.
We trade the bundles in our arms. He gives me Finn, taking the clothes from my hand. “Think he needs to be changed,” Slade says. “You need to teach me how to do that.”
“You want to learn how to change dirty diapers?”
“I want to help you, so yeah.”
There he goes stealing another piece of my heart. I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it. Grabbing the diaper bag, I head to the back of the store, toward the restroom. Finn starts crying, reaching his arms out in Slade’s direction.
A boy needs his father.
And his mother.
“Shh!” I soothe Finn, wiping a few of his crocodile tears away. I swear, this boy’s tears are just like his body, big and round and chubby. I wouldn’t have him any other way. I love all his little rolls, and I know as soon as he starts walking, they will go away, so I’m going to enjoy them while they last.
I reach into the diaper bag and grab a wipe to clean off the changing table before laying Finn down. Better safe than sorry. Don’t need him getting sick. “I’ll change you quick, and we’ll go right back out and see S . . .” I start to say Slade, then catch myself. Should I? I know it’s what Slade wants. I can see that Finn loves him, but will this simply confuse him? I never called a man father or dad, but I promised Finn I’d give him better than what I had.
Taking a deep breath, I whisper, “Daddy.”
Finn giggles, and that always makes me smile. My heart doesn’t stand a chance against these two guys.
Quickly, I start to change him, thinking about how we must look to the outside world. We must look like a perfect little family. Something in my gut won’t let me buy into that fairy tale, though. The secret I keep knows better.
Girls like me don’t get those happy endings.
We might not get happy endings, but I can take a few good chapters, and this is a good chapter.
I snap Finn’s onesie and walk back out to the store. Slade’s checking out, and judging by the bags, he’s added a few things. He pulls out his credit card, and I start to stop him when I see the sales lady lean over, her cleavage on full display and a smile on her face.
“Shopping for a little boy, I see,” she says.
Slade nods, picking up a pair of socks next to the register, and tossing them down to buy, too. “My son.”
My eyes fill up. He’s the most incredible man. Why am I reluctant to let him be Finn’s dad?
I was prepared to raise Finn alone. It never even occurred to me that there would be a man in the picture. Never has been before. Slade wasn’t part of my plan.
Here’s a little secret about being an abused or neglected child. You go one of two ways. Either you crave love, or it scares the piss out of you.
I fall in the latter category. I don’t trust it.
That’s the thing about the heart and soul. It remembers every hug you didn’t get, every I love you that was never said, every smack, every hit, every bad name you’ve been called.
The memories of my heart are dark and lonely. My heart didn’t learn the lessons of love. I’m playing catch-up with Slade, and it seems he has me on a crash course. Maybe my heart can make some new memories.
Slade’s blue eyes find mine, and I head his way. He holds his hands up. “Before you get mad, there were just a few other things that . . .”
“I’m not mad,” I say, kissing him softly.
Without another glance, the sales lady finishes up. We walk out of the store, Finn in his stroller and my hand in Slade’s. “Thank you,” I say.
He motions to the bags stuffed into the bottom of Finn’s stroller. “No big deal.”
“Not for the clothes,” I say, then shake my head. “Of course for the clothes, but . . .” I stop, looking up at him. “For not flirting with that woman, not even glancing at her boobs, which she was shoving in your face.” He starts laughing. “I also heard what you said.”
“What?”
“About Finn being your son.”
“It just came out.”
“I know. That makes it so much more special. It’s natural,” I say. “Thank you for loving him.”
Grabbing my ass in the middle of the mall, he says, “Now let’s go buy you some panties.”
*
A normal night for me used to involve working or worrying or a combination of both. Now things are totally different. Slade and I had dinner at home—takeout. He didn’t want me to cook because, in his mind, I’m still recovering. The bruises from the storm are taking forever to go away, so they serve as a constant reminder to Slade. The only thing Slade knows how to make are big hunks of meat, so takeout was perfect.