“You brought me to a baby store?” I whispered in disbelief.
Caleb’s smile was big and his blue eyes were bright in the store light. “Well, I’m not sure if you noticed, but you’re actually having a baby. And that baby is going to need stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Yes. Stuff. And today we are going to pick up a fuck ton of . . . stuff.”
I couldn’t help but smile. But it was short lived. I didn’t have the money for stuff. I reached for the price tag of the baby crib I was standing next to and my heart dropped to my toes.
“I could probably afford a couple of things,” I said softly. At least I had a bit left on my credit card.
Caleb reached for my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the top of it. “This is my treat.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Please, Honey. You’re having my baby. It’s the least I could do.”
“But you’ve already done so much.”
Caleb’s face softened and he pulled me to him. He didn’t put his arms around me—because that would be crossing boundaries—instead, he put a hand on each shoulder and looked at me.
“I could spend the rest of my life buying you things and it would still fall short of giving you what you are giving me.” His brow furrowed. “You’re growing my baby in your belly. Let me do this.”
He seemed so earnest. So genuine. So I gave in and nodded.
“You’ll just go ahead and do it anyway,” I said as if there was no point in fighting. But the truth was, I was touched. And so incredibly grateful for the gesture.
I spent the next hour picking out stuff. We wandered through the store and Caleb would point at things, pick them up, feel them, try and guess what they were for, get it totally wrong, and then be totally surprised or squeamish when he found out what they were. Like mesh underwear. I’m not sure what he thought they were, but he lost a little color when I held up a pack of postpartum pads and told him what went where and why.
It was fun. He made it fun. And I was so grateful for all the effort he was making
A few times he had to leave and make a few phone calls, or take a phone call, but for the most part he was by my side through the whole process.
It felt good.
Yet, at the same time it made me feel a bit weird. We weren’t a couple. We were friends who were having a baby. He wasn’t my boyfriend, or my lover. And tonight while I was sitting on the floor trying to piece together the brand new crib, he would be free to be wherever and with whomever he wanted. And no matter how hard I denied it, the thought of him being with another woman made me feel weird.
Sure, he said he wasn’t going to be with anyone.
But how long could I expect him to hold back?
When he went to make a call, I picked up a baby blanket. It was made from the softest fabric, and the moment I brought it up to my cheek, the memory washed over me.
I was three. My mom sat me in the corner of the living room in our one-bedroom apartment and switched on the TV.
“Now don’t you move until mommy comes back into the room,” she said. She put her finger over her lips. “Not a word now.”
I nodded wishing she’d join me on the couch and cuddle me while we watched cartoons. But she didn’t. Instead, she went to the door and let her friend in. He was a lot older than her and he seemed nervous when he saw me. Like he didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He followed my mom into the room and I watched the big hand on the clock move around from the five to the eleven, as muffled noises drifted into the room through the closed bedroom door. When the shouting started, I lifted the blanket to cover my face.
“Why would I leave her and my kids for someone else and her kid?”
The door ripped open and he stormed past me, stuffing his shirt into his pants as he disappeared out the front door.
Mom stared at me for a moment from her bedroom door, crying, her face dark and resentful, and then she slammed it shut.
“Are you okay?” Caleb asked, when he found me staring off into space with the baby blanket pressed against my cheek. He had just walked back in.
I exhaled deeply, trying to shake off the memory.
“Just a bit tired,” I replied hoarsely, putting the blanket back. “I think I’m about done.”
“Are you sure?”
I looked at him. He was so handsome. So big and strong. Any woman would be lucky to have him.