Page 83 of The First Kind of Love
He immediately sets the churro down, then squats by my side so he can be eye-level with me. “Whoa, whoa. Hey, Sunshine. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he coos, grabbing my hand and rubbing my knuckles. “What’s wrong? Did I forget something? Did you want me to get you something else? I can run back outside and?—”
“Why”—sniff—“are”—sniff—“you”—sniff—“such”—sniff—“a”—sniff—“good”—sniff—“boyfriend?”
Fulton’s stygian eyes assess me, his tone ambered with rich, sweet love. “That’s what you’re upset about? That I’m too good of a boyfriend?”
“Exactly! Thank you for understanding,” I murmur nasally, doing my absolute best to wipe the tears as they come—which is exceedingly difficult when my heart feels like it’s too big for my body.
“You make it easy for me to be good to you, Shi. And you deserve nothing less. I don’t think you understand how incredible you are. You’regrowingour child. You’re sitting on thiscouch and putting our little girl first, even though you’d rather be on your feet working. You’re suffering through heightened emotions, hormonal imbalances, cramps, and constant muscle pain. You’re sacrificing everything for her, and that’s more commendable than you can possibly imagine.”
I throw my arm out in exasperation. “See! That’s what I’m talking about! You recite all this lovey-dovey crap, and then you swear you aren’t even that good! But you are!”
When Fulton chases away a wandering drop of moisture with his thumb, it only dignifies my previous claim and resurrects the guilt wrenching my chest—which is already two cup sizes larger and prone to heartburn.
“Can I show you something?” he inquires out of nowhere, his lips softening into a warm smile.
Since my legs are about as unsteady as a newborn deer’s, I have the stamina of an out-of-shape old person, and now that my vision’s been compromised by tears, I rely on Fulton to lead me to this mysterious “something.”
“You’ve stayed out of the baby’s room like I asked you to, right?”
“Yes,Daddy,” I quip in mock-annoyance, feeling Fulton’s body go as stiff as an obelisk beside me. He’s got one hand braced protectively against my bump, and the other is resting on the small of my back while he pilots me with sickeningly sweet wariness.
A groan localizes in his throat. “Jesus, Shi. You can’t joke like that when you look like…”
“Like a humongous, inflated beach ball?”
“Like the sexiest woman on the fucking planet.”
Whew. One thing I’ve discovered about Fulton is that his sweet-talking is both a blessing and a curse. The first time we had sex after the pregnancy reveal, he refused to fuck me until he completed in-depth research about the potential of hurting the baby with his penis—which is as preposterous as it is sweet.
I think I know why he exiled me from the baby’s room. He’s been spending a lot of time in there after hockey, and it always sounds like a goddamn construction site. I’m glad at leastsomeone’sbeen showing the nursery some love. I never even had an idea of what I wanted it to look like. I think I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I’m going to be pushing a who-knows-how-heavy baby out of my vagina in two months.
“Be honest with me, Sunshine. If you hate it, we can change it first thing tomorrow. I promise,” he says as a prelude.
“I could never hate it, Fulton. Because whatever you did was done with love.”
Without further ado, he opens the door to reveal a sea-themed room, complete with a lamp that emits pale-blue light to imitate a feeling of being underwater. On the wall, there’s a mural of hand-painted beach motifs, oscillating between crashing waves, a sandy shore, palm trees, marine life, and a gorgeous sunset. There’s also a quilted blanket draped over the side of the crib—a thoughtful gift from Fulton’s mother—and he’s filled the space with a rocking chair, a cubby for the baby’s toys, a dresser embellished with ocean decals, and a giant monstera in the corner.
My eyes skate over the hyper-realistic waves, and if I wasn’t so stunned by the dedication and care that he put into this, I would be resuming my meltdown from earlier. My thoughts are scrambled like eggs. I can’t believe Fulton did all of this. It’sbreathtaking. I didn’t even know he was this artistic. This looks like something that was done by a professional.
I don’t know what to say. My speechlessness must be glaringly obvious because Fulton ushers me over to the crib, sparing me from a response. “This is my favorite part! Look! Little black ridley turtles!”
He points to the baby mobile hanging overhead, which does, in fact, include miniature-sized sea turtles just like the ones we saw hatch in Cabo. Each turtle is a perfect replica of itsreal counterpart, and little ribbons of cerulean and ivory dangle between each one to break up the symmetry.
As determined as I’ve been to tread this uncharted territory, having a slice of Cabo here provides me with a boundless comfort that could never be explained through words. “Fulton, I…this isamazing.”
Forcing myself to suck in tears, I reach out to gently touch one of the turtles, feeling the raised texture of its scales and the detailed carapace of its shell. Something as intricate as this wasn’t bought off Amazon. No, every single piece was sculpted and painted individually.
Fulton forfeits a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. I was worried you wouldn’t like it.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I wanted it to be perfect for our little girl. And I know you gave me a lot of examples of the nursery themes you liked, but when this came to my mind, I just…I couldn’t help myself. Now she’ll be a part of the most special time in my life.”
With emotion ensconced in the chamber of my heart, my sense of calm is disassembled through another round of bawling. Droplets of water branch from my stinging eyes and into individual rivers, which leave behind their evanescence like grave markers buried beneath a heavy snowfall. If I wasn’t so preoccupied with crying, I’d probably be embarrassed that it takes me a full ten seconds to sit on my butt.
“Shit, no, I didn’t mean—was it something I said? I’m so sorry, Sunshine. I’m fucking this up,” Fulton whispers under his breath, kneeling beside me so I don’t have to suffer on the floor alone.
“N-no. This is…oh, Fulton. This is everything I-I could’ve ever wanted. The fact that you love this baby so much and she isn’t even born yet just makes me…emotional.”
