Page 70 of His to Save

My cheeks burn so hotly, they must be redder than the store’s trademark bullseye, but still, I do as he says and head over to pick out some new undies.

I grab ten pairs of boyshort-cut panties, two bras, and a pack of socks before making my way back to Atlas, who shockingly is right where I left him.

“Now, we can get you some pajamas or you can keep right on sleeping in my shirts. The choice is yours.”

The words Atlas spoke to me when he caught me in his shirt my first morning at his house echo in my brain. ‘It looks way better on you than it ever did me.’

Just like that, my decision is made. “Your shirts, please.”

He smiles, big and proud, like he’s picturing me wearing one right now… and nothing else.

“Now, we can either check out the maternity section or the shoe section next. Your call, Pip.”

I glance down at my small bump and then back up at him. “Do you think I need maternity clothes?” There’s a vulnerable edge to my voice that I hate, because it’s that very same voice that whispers mean things in my ear.

Things that make me doubt my worth.

Atlas once again steps away from the shopping cart and into my space. He pulls me in close, wrapping his strong arms around me as he rests his chin on the top of my head.

“You’re perfect as you are, Pip.” He leans down, bringing his lips to my temple. “And you’ll be just as perfect when you’re big and swollen with our baby.” He kisses his way down my jaw. “And once our jellybean is in our arms instead of your belly… you’ll be perfect then, too.”

“Atlas.” I hiccup his name, but he shushes me with another kiss—this one on my lips.

He licks into my mouth, tangling our tongues briefly before pulling away. “Your body is working miracles right now, Nora, and no matter how it changes, you’re you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“You really mean that?” I ask, cradling my belly. This baby is my everything, and the way Atlas so easily accepts us both makes me want to melt into a puddle at his boot-covered feet.

“With every ounce of my being.” He boops my nose, and I grin. “Now, where are we going next?”

“I think shoes… it might be a while before I need maternity clothes.”

“Lead the way, pretty girl.”

Two pairs of shoes later, and we’re on our way to the baby section—at Atlas’s insistence.

He’s like a kid in a candy store,oohingandaahingover every little thing.

“We don’t need that,” I murmur for the hundredth time, as he holds up the tiniest beanie I’ve ever seen.

“It’ll be chilly when our jellybean makes its debut,” he argues, clutching the hat to his chest, much like he did the pack of onesies, the blanket, and the mittens.

“Atlas.” I drag his name out and he grins, already knowing what I’m going to say.

“It’s a neutral color,” he says, before I have a chance to argue. “Which means into the cart it goes.”

My eyes follow the beanie as it lands on the top of the pile. “That’s enough. Seriously, Atlas. There’s not even room for anything else.”

“We could always grab a second cart.” He waggles his brows, and I can’t help but laugh at his antics.

“Absolutely not.” I nudge him with my elbow. “To checkout we go.”

“Fine.” He sighs dramatically, and together, we head toward the front of the store.

Once we’re at the register, I realize what a sneaky-sneak he is. For every item I added to the cart, he tossed in two more.

“Atlas!” I hiss his name like an angry cat. “This iswaymore than the hundred dollars we agreed on.”

“She’s already scanning,” he says, nodding toward the cashier. “You don’t want her to have to stop and take things off and then put them back, right? That would be a lot of extra work for her.”

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