25. Tony

“You haven’t forgotten what today is, have you?

My pregnancy was advancing, and we needed baby clothes and paraphernalia. I’d been staring at websites late at night but wanted to feel and examine everything the baby would use and wear.

“Have not.” Flint walked out of the two-person shower enclosure that I would never not be amazed at. “Jog my memory.”

“You’re such a liar.”

He put his head against my bump. “Your dad just called me a big bad word.”

“Tell me. What are we doing today?”

He wrapped the towel around his hips. “Stuff. Lots and lots of stuff.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s baby day.”

His slack-jawed expression told me everything I needed to know.

“Not birth-day but buying-everything-baby day.”

“I knew that.”

When we’d agreed to spend a day shopping, Flint had promised it would be about us and our little one. But he’d been so distracted with work, maybe it was better to let him do what he had to.

“What time do we start?” He looked at me in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.

“You don’t have to.” I was sincere, not playing silly games. If he was with me, he couldn’t be on his phone all the time.

He turned around and kissed me with a toothpaste mouth. “I’m all in.”

“Dothey really have to be here?”

We were in the baby section of a large department store, and as well as Flint and myself, there were four hulking bodyguards lurking behind cots and strollers. Flint hated when I used that word, saying shifters never lurked.

“Yes. I won’t change my mind. They stay.”

I didn’t argue. And I couldn’t get annoyed because he was looking out for me and the baby.

“What do you think about this cot?” It was a stunning piece, all white with solid panels at each end and two drawers underneath.

My mate grabbed the bars with both hands. “Looks like a jail.”

I fixed my gaze on him. “Have you ever been in one?” Maybe I should have asked him that earlier in our relationship.

“Visited, yes. As a guest, never.”

A sales person hovered, not saying anything but gazing at my mate as if he wanted to eat him. I grabbed Flint’s arm and planted a kiss on his mouth.

“Mmmm, what was that for?” Flint smacked my ass and pulled me close.

“Can’t I show my mate how much I love him?” I tweaked his butt.

“You can.” He kissed me back. “Are we done?”

“Kissing? As long as you don’t mind, we can kiss more.”

“No, the cot.” He turned to the sales guy and asked the price, before saying, “We’ll take it.”

The guy’s face lit up. Maybe he worked on commission or he thought he’d get our address. That wasn’t happening. Whatever we bought would be delivered to Flint’s office.

“We’re not going anywhere. I have a long list.” I showed my mate the phone.

“Really? They need that? Aren’t they like yay big?” He put his hands about six inches apart.

“Are you messing with me?” I pulled his hands farther apart.

We worked our way through the list. Changing table. Check. Rocking chair. Check. Sofa. Check. Baby monitor. Check. Baby bath. Check. And diapers. Lots of diapers, along with a stroller and a car seat. The sales guy was practically orgasmic every time Flint or I said, “We’ll take it.”

My mate exaggeratedly mopped his brow. “Whew. We did it.” He whipped out his phone to pay. I still wasn’t used to having enough money to buy things. Dad and I always had a tight budget, even after he met Derek, and some months we ate cup noodles leading up to payday.

“Now we buy the clothes.”

I picked up the most adorable white onesie with bunnies and rested it against my belly. “It’s so cute.” I put it up against Flint. It was even tinier compared to his huge frame.

He fingered it. “It’s so soft.”

I went through my list, piling more onesies, baby blankets, PJs, socks, and mittens in Flint’s arms. His face was hidden, and I only had half what I needed. The sales guy carried the rest, though his eyes darted to the bodyguards, maybe wondering why they couldn’t carry stuff.

I was so excited to get home and get the nursery ready, I didn’t want to wait for the crib and other big items to be delivered first to the office and then have Emilio and his men bring them to the house.

“Is there any way we can take everything now?” The clothing and some of the smaller items would fit in our car and the other two vehicles that went with us everywhere.

“I’ll have Emilio arrange a truck.”

By the time we made it home after picking up food, the truck arrived, and everything was carried inside. The domestic staff had already finished cleaning and left. Instead of being in the house all day, they came earlier and were done usually before I got back from college. They were sweet and hardworking, but I’d never gotten used to having people who weren’t family in my home.

“This used to be my room.”

Flint looked out the window to the medium-sized-ass pool. “I used to dream of being the Alpha when I’d see Papa coming home.”

The silence stretched from seconds to minutes, and I took his hand. He didn’t talk about his father much. Having both his grandfather and father die violent deaths had to have left scars. He’d been so young when he took over as head of the pack. This room must have had some unhappy memories.

Maybe we could banish them.

“I saw some paint in the basement.”

He swirled around, his eyes blazing. He avoided talking about the night I stayed there after Emilio roughed me up, unless it was to apologize over and over. “What?”

“Yesterday. I was in the storeroom and saw some light gray water-based paint.”

“Hmmm. Dad was going to paint my room a couple of years ago. Said the white was too stark.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll get someone to do it.”

But I yanked the device out of his hand. “We can do it.”

“We can?”

“Yeah.” I demonstrated the slapping of paint on a wall. “There were also paint brushes, rollers, and drop cloths. It’ll be fun.” It wasn’t often there were activities we could do together, which was why I loved tracking Flint if he did a retrieval, not that he did them often, and now that my pregnancy was advanced, we’d agreed I wouldn’t “participate.” I still tracked him, but from home.

“Fun?” he repeated, as if he’d never had any. “Sure, why not.”

He brought everything up to the nursery, and I changed into a ragged tee I’d been going to toss and paternity shorts. My mate didn’t have any old clothes, so I chose a bland white-shirt that probably cost big bucks and told him to strip to his underwear.

He paraded his sexy ass around the room, twirling the paint brush as if he were a model on a runway. I smacked his butt and said we’d never get the painting done if he didn’t stop wriggling his butt.

“Maybe we shouldn’t.” His voice deepened, sending shivers through me.

Much as I would enjoy sexy time, I was in get the nursery done mode.

“Priorities, babe. Paint, then sex.”

He grabbed me from behind and ran his hands over my bump. “Or sex then paint.”

I pulled away. If we had sex, we’d spend the rest of the day in bed. I slapped some paint on the wall and a tiny bit on his nose.

“Didn’t know that was allowed.”

I shooed him away and told him to get up the ladder, while scrolling through a playlist on my phone. After finding what I wanted, I turned the sound up and pressed play.

“What is that crap?” Flint stared at me.

“It’s disco.” It made me think of painting my room as a kid with Dad. Any memory of him was now tainted after his response to Flint and my pregnancy, but I’d been trying to banish the bad and reclaim good memories of my childhood. I refused to let him being an ass ruin the good times.

I strutted around the room and boogied.

“Ummm, excuse me. You’re supposed to be painting.” Flint waved his brush and almost splattered paint over me.

“Getting in the mood.” I bopped about, doing the signature disco moves. “Dance with me.”

“Don’t really know how.”

“What? You own a club and you don’t dance?”

“Not whatever that is you’re doing.”

“Get down here.” I pointed to the floor. “It’s called the Funky Chicken.”

Flint turned up his nose. “It’s funky alright.”

“Not funky as in stinky.” I flapped my arms. “Pretend to be a chicken.”

My mate rolled his eyes, muttering, “Don’t see the point,” but he followed my example.

“Now stick your neck forward like chickens do when they’re walking around.” I blasted the music so it filled the room. “And strut like a chicken. Come on.”

We flapped and strutted and shoved our heads forward, and Flint chortled, and that got me laughing. When the music stopped, we fell into one another’s arms.

“That was ridiculous.” He kissed the top of my head.

“That’s the point, babe.” I surveyed the wreck of a room. The painting could wait. I took my mate’s hand and dragged him toward the bedroom.

“Thought it was paint, then sex.”

“Changed my mind.”