“Amen,” my mother said in agreement as they looked at me expectantly.
“I’m leaving,” I decided quickly. “Why don’t you too speculate on my life while I go live it?” I snatched Rhys’s new sweater and Bryce’s toys out of the cart as they both protested my announcement.
They shared a smile, and I knew the minute I walked out of the store that they would do just that. I had to let go of my need for constant reassurance. I knew where it stemmed from and I wouldn’t let my past win.
A day of shopping, a sweater, and some toys richer, I had a date to get to.
I quickly texted Rhys.
VIOLET: I could use some RED.
RHYS: That could be arranged.
VIOLET: It can wait. I would rather hold that baby.
RHYS: Not tonight. He’s at his aunt’s until tomorrow morning.
VIOLET: Damn it, Rhys.
RHYS: Pussy here, now!
An hour later, I was at his door. We had agreed to meet at his house since Bryce would be delivered bright and early tomorrow. He opened it quickly after I knocked and pulled me to him. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him hard on the mouth.
“Missed me, huh?” he said, his tone cocky.
“I bought you something,” I said, thrusting the shopping bag in his face. Gift-wrapping—I had decided—would be over doing it, and since technically it wasn’t Christmas, I had nothing to be worried about. I had covered my bases.
He looked at me with puzzlement as I reached in and pulled the sweater out.
“Violet?”
“If you don’t like it, I can get you some cologne or bath salts...shit,” I said, feeling embarrassed and racing to his kitchen to get some wine.
He chuckled as he followed me. “There’s nothing wrong with the sweater. It’s just the manner in which it was presented. You threw it at my head, are you sure you want to part with it?”
I pulled out a bottle and quickly served myself a glass as he studied me. He looked gorgeous in his dark jeans and black, fitted long sleeve t-shirt. His hair was perfectly styled. He was still holding the sweater as he perused me. His eyes held his question, not wavering as they blurred briefly through the lift of my glass. I swallowed more before I braved an answer.
“Sorry, I spent the day with my mother,” I said, turning to his kitchen drawer behind me, rummaging through it to find a stopper for the wine.
“Uh huh,” he said, inching closer.
“Well, she’s crazy. She makes me a little crazy,” I offered, waving my hands around like a crazy person.
“Don’t need much help there,” he said, stepping in front of me, stopping my fidgeting.
“Do you want to get laid tonight?” I said testily.
He paused, studying me, his eyes growing dark. “As if you have a choice,” he said an inch away from me. His eyes were amused but his jaw was set. I felt a shiver run through me.
“How about a tour? I never really got one of upstairs. Show me Bryce’s room.” He looked back at me with confusion as I started toward the stairs, rattling on and on about my day.
My insecurity in the lead, I pounded up the steps and down the hall, searching for Bryce’s room. I didn’t want to spout off about feelings and the nature of our relationship. I wished I had never vocalized my concerns to my mother and Molly, leaving the thoughts in the forefront of my mind. I heard Rhys approach behind me as I turned the knob to a room, finding it filled with a queen bed fit for a guest. With the next turn of the knob, I found myself standing in the baby’s room, surrounded by all things Bryce. I walked to his rocker and picked up his teddy bear, holding it in my hands as I studied the pictures on a shelf above his changing table. They were all of the two of them from day one. I envied Rhys being a parent.
I felt his hands on my shoulders.
“He was a pretty newborn. Most newborns aren’t that pretty, did you know that?” I said, turning to Rhys who was watching me. He eyed the picture I was referring to and nodded.
“How old was he here?” I asked, taking a step out of his arms to scrutinize the next photo.