Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“You know, no one, to my knowledge, has ever gotten pregnant simply from walking into a baby store,” he joked, turning off the engine. He’d come to pick me up in the DB9, and a guy on the sidewalk stopped to take a photo of the car with his phone.
I checked my hair in the mirror; I’d straightened it and pulled it back under a wide headband I’d improvised from a folded Hermés scarf to disguise the fact that I hadn’t had time to wash my hair that morning. Our night with Ian and Gena had really sapped my energy, but I’d already promised to attend fetus-palooza, and I didn’t want to disappoint Neil. I’d worn a calf-length orange pencil skirt and a vibrant purple peasant top. They were the only things I could make the hippie chic hair disguise work with.
I got out of the car, and Neil came around to take my hand and walk into the store with me. Every time he held my hand, I got a little thrill. I’d never been with a guy who was into that, and before I’d gotten with Neil, I’d thought holding hands in public was silly. Now, it felt awesome, like we were saying to the world, “Look at us. We belong together. See how well our hands fit?”
Inside the store, soft, inoffensive pop music played at a just noticeable volume. Two women, their faces aglow, one of them hugely pregnant, cooed over a round crib with a pale pink canopy. A man on the phone near some baby monitors was trying to explain the optional motion sensor to whoever was on the other end. Everywhere, all around…so many baby products.
“Holy shit, do people need all of this?” I muttered under my breath, and Neil nudged me. A salesperson with bad highlights and the wide, frozen smile of a former pageant queen intercepted us within moments.
“Hi there! I’m Sasha. Welcome to Tétine. Is this your first visit?” Her gaze flicked between Neil and me, and I’m glad she ended her question looking at him, because I was about to panic and flee the store.
“Yes, it is.” He beamed with grandfatherly pride and said, “My daughter is pregnant with her first child, and—”
“Congratulations!” Sasha interrupted, turning her toothy smile to me. “When are you due?”
“Never!” rolled out of my mouth so automatically and vehemently that it startled her.
“This is my fiancé,” Neil clarified, with an edge of you’ve-fucked-up in his tone. “My daughter is expecting her first child, and we’re here looking for a gift for the baby.”
“Anything in particular?” she asked smoothly, glossing past her mistake without blinking.
“Is there anything here he hasn’t bought yet?” I snorted.
“Well, feel free to browse. If you need anything—”
“Sasha,” I finished for her. “We got it. This isn’t our first rodeo.”
Her eyebrows ratcheted up about an inch, and she drifted away, probably thinking we’d be her most difficult customers all day.
“Why do you do always have to make people feel uncomfortable?” Neil tried to scold me, but his giggling didn’t make it very convincing.
I cut a wide path around a rack of itsy little dresses. “I have to entertain myself somehow. You should have heard me the other day, I took your accent out for a spin at lunch.”
“I shudder to imagine how ridiculous you must have sounded. Your impersonation of me is terrible.” He paused in front of a swing that looked like it should have been on the space shuttle and gave it a gentle push.
“Remind me what this particular present is for?” I asked as we wandered among the racks of tasteful baby clothes.
“Valerie bought Emma a jogging stroller,” he answered without pretense. The battle to spoil the baby had been on for some time, and what had begun as a friendly rivalry had become a high-stakes war. At my arched eyebrow and pursed lips he said, rather sheepishly, “I’m allowed to buy this baby an outrageous amount of stuff, aren’t I? There hasn’t been one in the Elwood household for twenty-six years. This is exciting.”
I was about to remind him that the baby wasn’t going to be in the Elwood household, but the sight of frills stopped me, and I cooed, “Awww, look at this, Neil.” I took the hanger off the rack and held up the teensy pink floral triangle-top bikini flipping it to show him the ruffle-butt bottoms. I’d expected some disapproval at the thought of his granddaughter in a bikini, no matter her age, but he appeared absolutely horrified. It took me a blink to realize he wasn’t looking at the swimsuit, but over my shoulder. I turned, and behind me stood a woman a few inches taller than me, with golden blonde hair and an expression that matched Neil’s.
No, hers seemed to lean to the nauseated side of horror. Her gaze fell to the baby clothes in my hand, and she choked out an, “Excuse me,” before dropping the bottle warmer she’d been carrying. She ran—literally ran—from the store.