Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Kaitlyn holds up a onesie with a heart and a pony on it. “I don’t think I can leave without buying this. I’d have so much regret if someone didn’t choose it.”
“There’s no regretting anything. We’re gettin’ it.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders when I spot another one.
It says, My Mommy is a Queen and I’m a Princess.
“We’re getting this one too.”
She squeals. “That’s so cute!”
After we’ve spent over an hour in the store, we purchase the things we couldn’t live without, then hit up another one. It’s the same song and dance as the first.
“I need to focus on things we actually need,” she tells herself. “Or we’re going to have a million clothes she’ll probably never get to wear because she’ll grow so fast.”
“Or we can just have another girl and reuse them.”
She meets my eyes and grins. “Our luck, it’d be a boy.”
This makes me laugh. “You’re right. No pretty princess onesies for him.”
We look at the cribs, car seats, breast pumps, and maternity bras.
“Jesus, I never realized how much shit we’d need,” I say when we pass several aisles of baby gear and furniture.
“Right? Just imagine how women did it before all this stuff was invented.”
“And before air-conditioning,” I add.
“Fuck that. These hot flashes are enough to burn our house down. I can’t even imagine not having it.”
I love how she calls it our house.
After stopping into a few more places, Kaitlyn gets tired. So we take a break for lunch, which always seems to give her more energy, then make our final stop at the maternity clothes store.
“I might spend all my money in here,” she says, touching the different shirts and jeans. This is the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time.
“I know you bought some things off the internet that you hated, so I thought maybe you could find a few cute-ass outfits.”
She laughs. “Will you help me?”
“I’d love to.”
One of the associates comes over and helps Kaitlyn. They laugh and make jokes about some of the patterns of clothes. Considering Christmas is just around the corner, there are a few sweaters with candy canes and reindeer that look like uteruses.
“Can he come inside the dressing room with me?” Kaitlyn asks.
“Absolutely,” the associate says, unlocking one of the rooms. It’s large enough for a family of five.
When we’re inside, Kaitlyn reaches for the hangers I have in my hand and looks at them.
“This one is kinda sexy,” she says, and I turn to help her change. She huffs and groans, but when she’s dressed, she tells me to look.
“Okay, this is adorable,” she admits.
“Looks great on you,” I tell her, smiling at how happy she looks.
She places her hand on her belly. “This is so comfy and slimming. I’m actually excited to try on everything else.”
Each time she changes, I put the clothes back on the hangers. The last outfit is a maxi dress with long sleeves, but it makes her tits look huge.
Kaitlyn notices me stealing a glance. “The girls look great, don’t they?”
“There’s no denying that, but then again, you’ve always had perfect tits.”
She chuckles. “Serious question…”
“Shoot.”
“Would you have sex with a pregnant woman?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I smirk. I know exactly what she’s asking, but I refuse to give her the answer she wants. “Depends.”
“On what, exactly?” She gives me a finger swirling motion, and I turn again.
“So what’s the criteria?” she pushes again.
I suck in a breath and exhale. “Well, if it was my pregnant girlfriend or wife, absolutely. Nothing sexier than a woman carrying your child.”
Kaitlyn stills, and I wish I could see her face. But then she drops it. I’m determined to keep the boundaries after my slipup in front of her whole family.
We ended up buying every outfit she tried on. She tried to pay, but I yanked her wallet out of her hand and told her it was my treat. Mama deserves to be pampered, and I’m more than happy to spend money on her. In fact, I’d spoil the shit out of her every day if she’d let me.
When we get home, Kaitlyn lies on the couch and falls asleep. As much fun as we had, she’s exhausted. While she naps, I unload the bags.
I place the few things we picked out in the room that’s starting to look like a nursery. Leaning against the doorway, I envision exactly what my daughter’s room will look like and how she’ll decorate it over the years. A smile meets my lips, knowing how many happy memories we’ll make and how much she’s already loved. There’s no doubt in my mind she’ll have a better childhood than I did. That’s something I will make sure of.
After a few hours, I make dinner, then wake her up to eat.
“You know this is my favorite,” she sing-songs, twirling the spaghetti noodles around her fork. When she notices the big dill pickle I set on a plate, she bursts out laughing.