Page 80 of Need You To Choose Me

I close my eyes for a second as tingles run down my spine at his words, and when I look at him, I find him watching me with a self-satisfied smirk.

Damn this man.

Glaring at him, I walk toward the parking lot, the Walker boys at my heels.

Blake’s words ring in my mind all the way back home, his headlights following behind me as a silent companion.

Pulling up in front of my house, I get out of my car and glance over my shoulder, expecting to see Blake go into his house, but he murmurs something to Levi, who disappears inside, and he crosses the street, his long steps eating the distance between us.

I stop in my tracks. “Blake?”

“I have something for you.”

Have something? For me?

Blake lifts his hand, a bag dangling from his fingers.

I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a present. Open it,” Blake urges. “It won’t bite you.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I feel my heart kick up a notch as I slowly reach for the bag. Our fingers brush, electricity coursing through me. “What’s inside?”

Blake shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

Is he… nervous?

I don’t know why, but something about that realization calms me.

“It won’t be a surprise if I tell you.”

Holding his gaze, I slip my fingers into a bag, a soft material brushing against my fingertips as I pull the contents out.

“What—”

My voice trails off as I pull out the material and unfold it, my mouth falling open as I stare at the tiniest onesie I’ve ever seen.

“Blake, I?—”

Just like the rest of the jerseys Blake got for the kids, this one has a golden bear paw logo on the front, and when I turn it around, I find Walker written across the back in big bold letters with the number 93 underneath it.

Blake’s number.

My lip trembles as I let my fingers go over the soft material.

“When I had the others done, I got this idea that I should have one made for our baby. We could dress him or her in it when you guys come to the game, but if you don’t like it, you don’t have to use it. It was just?—”

Before he can finish, I wrap my arms around him.

“This is…” My throat feels tight, and tears gather in my eyes.

He got a jersey.

His jersey with his name.

For our baby.

Shaking my head, I push down the knot lodged in my throat before croaking out, “Thank you.”

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