Page 114 of Dash

I scoff at that. “I’m not getting the socks. I’m not spending that much money on one item when the baby needs a lot of things. Expensive things. I mean, how can items this small cost so much?”

He takes my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look up at him. “You’re freaking out.”

“Of course, I’m freaking out. I’d need three jobs to pay for all this.”

I’m pretty sure I’m about to cry, and I really don’t want to.

I am not having a breakdown over baby socks.

“You don’t pay for anything.”

I raise a brow. “Meaning what? You pay for everything? The rent, the food, the baby stuff and I’m just contributing heartburnand hormonal outbursts? That’s not going to work for me. I’m not a freeloader.”

“No, you’re the mother of my child, and you’re not going to want to hear this, but it’s normal to rely on a partner when you’re pregnant, Dayna. It’s normal to rely on a partner when you’re in a relationship. If you think I’m going to sit by and watch you pick up extra hours to buy things our baby needs, things we can afford easily without pushing you into exhaustion, you’re wrong. So, if you want the socks, buy them. If you want three fucking prams, we’ll get four. You’re mine, this kid is mine, and neither of you will ever want for anything.”

Shit.What the hell do I say to that?

He catches the tear that works down my cheek. “I feel pathetic. Like I bring nothing to the table. Like if you weren’t here, everything would just fall apart.”

“You think money is what makes you worthy? Fuck that. You’re carrying our family in your body, Dayna. I can’t do that. You’ve already given more than I ever could. But if it makes you feel better, the money you’re saving on rent, put it in an account, build it up, and when you realise that I’m not going anywhere and you don’t need it to run or escape, you can spend it on a hundred pairs of hand woven alpaca fucking socks.”

“I don’t want to run,” I whisper. “I just don’t want to you to resent me when you’re carrying everything.”

“How could I ever resent the woman who gave me a future worth bleeding for?”

Oh, damn. I would swoon if I wasn’t so tired.

“That was poetic.”

He smirks. “Only for you. Now, go and shop.”

We walk around the displays, and I stop on a onesie with a unicorn eating an ice cream. It’s ridiculous, but I love it. He takes it from me, holding it so I have my hands free to look at more clothes.

Despite his nerves, he insists we stop at a small cafe when we’re finished shopping. He’s trying to make this as normal as possible, and I love him for it.

He sits facing the door and guides me into the seat next to him before I can pick a chair.

Our knees are touching under the table, and his hand is on my thigh, rubbing circles, like he’s trying to soothe us both.

I tuck the bags under my chair, the few items we bought wrapped in tissue paper, ready to be put away until it’s time to meet our baby.

Dash slides the menu under my nose, his gaze splitting between me and the door.

“What do you want to drink?”

“A margarita, but it was cocktails that led to my current condition.” I smirk at him, and he gives me a patient look.

“You saying you only slept with me because you were drunk?”

“Maybe the first time. Definitely not the twenty times after.”

His hand rests over my ribcage as he presses kisses down my jaw. That is the one thing I love about Dash. He always has to have his hands or his mouth on me. So, when his breath tickles my ear, a full-body shiver runs through me.

“Do you need me to remind you why you kept coming back for more?”

His hand moves from my thigh to cup between my legs. My breath hitches, my eyes darting around immediately even as my fingers wrap around his wrist. “What are you doing? People will see.”

“No one will ever see what’s mine,” he says, flattening his palm against me, applying just enough pressure to make my thighs squeeze together. “When we get you home, I’m going to ruin this pretty pussy.”

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