Page 76 of Player Misconduct
“Me too,” he smiles down at me.
When we leave the restaurant, the air is cool, sunlight breaking through a wet sky. We’re passing storefronts when I notice a display in the window—a soft cream crib with carved edges and a matching padded rocking chair beside it. I stop without meaning to.
“You like the crib,” he says quietly.
“It’s gorgeous,” I admit, then shake my head. “But I don’t have room for it right now.”
Nor do I have the money since I haven’t had a funded savings account in the years since Tarron. A part of me wants to demand he pay me back, but the other part knows that even if he pays me back for his debt he’ll act as if I owe him. Peace of mind is expensive, it would seem. So is marrying the wrong man.
“Indulge me,” he says, already holding the door open. “It’ll be fun.”
“Aleksi—”
“Come on. You said you wanted a bigger place soon anyway, right? Doesn’t hurt to look.”
I should say no. Instead, I follow him inside, because I can’t help the fantasy of what life could look like someday. And shopping with Aleksi for baby things feels oddly like bonding. His excitement is contagious.
The baby store smells faintly of vanilla and new wood. Soft lullabies hum through the speakers. And damn it, I fall for everything in the store. The crib, the rocking chair that fits me like it was molded for my body, the plush blanket with tiny stitched snowflakes.
A cheerful saleswoman approaches. “Can I help you with anything?”
Before I can answer, Aleksi says, “Yeah, how much for the crib?”
I shoot him a look. “We’re just looking.”
“It’s gorgeous, right?” the woman beams. “We sell out every time. I actually only have one left in stock—then they’re backordered until spring.”
I start to nod politely. “That’s fine. I’ll come back.”
Aleksi, of course, has other plans. “How much?”
“Eight hundred ninety-five,” she says.
He nods. “We’ll take it.”
“What?”
“I have room in my storage unit. You’ll need it eventually.”
“It’s too expensive, Aleksi. And there’s no rush.”
“You love it,” he says, voice soft but firm. “You should have it.” Then—“How much for the chair?”
The woman lights up. “That one’s our luxury model—heated, massaging, bottle warmer built into the armrest. Twelve-fifty.”
“Aleksi,” I demand, “don’t even think about it.”
He grins, as if driving me crazy is half the fun. “We’ll take them both.”
Before I can grab his arm, he’s already handing over his black Amex.
The saleswoman smiles. “Would you like me to keep this on file in case she needs anything else?”
“Yes,” he says immediately as I say “No”. Then, turning to me, pressing the card into my hand. “It’s yours from now on. Anything you or the baby need.”
I stare at it. “I can’t take this.”
“You can, and you will.”
