Page 97 of Tattered Souls
Six Weeks Later
Tatum was smiling at me as she handed me a little white bag.
I set the wrench on the car's frame, then tagged my rag and wiped my hands.
“What is it?” I asked as I took the bag from her hand.
She smiled, “Open it.”
I shook my head at my wife, fuck, but I loved saying that.
Then I pulled out pink tissue paper, and then blue tissue paper. What the hell?
I shook my head and then grabbed a pair of little pink boots. I lifted a brow.
She winked.
I placed them on the car's frame.
Then I pulled out a pair of little blue boots and placed them on the frame as well.
Then I pulled out a little black onesie and felt my breath catch.
My head jerked up. I locked my eyes with her sable ones and said, “Yeah?”
“Read it,” she said.
I placed the bag on the frame and opened the little onesie,Come near me. So, my daddy can kick your ass.
I inhaled a breath, then a second one, and then I rushed my wife, and had her up and in my arms, my lips pressed to hers.
And yeah, we celebrated that there was a baby in her womb.
Our baby.
Right in the fucking office.
***
Our family thought we were insane because we didn’t want to know what we were having. Like everything in our relationship, we treasured everything. The big moments, and the small moments.
***
Christmas came, and I surprised my woman with every single paperback that Amelia Shea had available.
When I had messaged her and told her a little of my story, she promised to send me some swag, whatever the fuck that was.
And she did.
And my woman’s face had been priceless. Absolutely priceless.
She had gifted me with a new leather jacket, chaps, and a helmet.
Plus, a hand-painted gas tank cover for my Harley that was us done in black and white when we danced together for the first time at Carter and Harlee’s wedding.
At the time, I didn’t know that the photographer had captured that.
To say I loved it would be an understatement, and to ensure nothing happened to it, I hung it up in my garage right over my toolbox.
