“You feel fine about it because you are who you are,” he said as he came to sit down next to me.
“And who is that?”
“The woman who’s got my soul pinned to her own.”
“If you say so.” I glanced down, not really sure I wanted to explore the subject any further. I had to let it settle. I’d bottled my feelings for so long, I wasn’t used to owning and expressing them now. “Anyway, I’ll bite. What’s in the bag?”
He waggled his dark eyebrows at me. I pursed my lips, trying my best not to smile. The man was bringing me gifts and doting on me like we were actually together. It wasn’t really established. I was having his baby, and we were sleeping and living together. Yet we hadn’t said the words that would seal the deal.
“A couple things.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed for it.
He pulled it back. “Now, now. Don’t get impatient. Maybe we should feed the baby in you first. What do you want for dinner?”
“Oh, get fucked, Rome. Give me the bag.”
“Don’t I get a please?”
“You get a give-it-to-me-or-leave.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“This is my place, woman.”
“Until you knocked me up. Now, what’s mine is yours.” I smiled but it was a bunch of saccharine bullshit we both knew was going to be followed up by something foul. “And when that’s the case, I make the call.”
“Hmmm… we’ll see.” But the man handed it over with a dopey look on his face.
Maybe it was the moment that got me or the fact that I was pregnant, I wasn’t exactly sure. Suddenly, though, the words bubbled to the surface and I couldn’t hold back saying, “I appreciate you. I appreciate this space with you. I appreciate the gift and the standing by me.”
“You shouldn’t appreciate it,” he said softly. “You should expect it. Every woman deserves that, right? And a woman like you probably deserves a lot more.”
“A lot more?” I raised my eyebrows, already backtracking with a sly comment. “What’s in here anyway?”
I pulled open the bag and saw no clothing. “Looks like I’m going naked to the sex club.”
“I’m not buying your ass clothes when I know you’ll throw them away or rip them all up to make them your own. You handle that.”
I hummed because he was probably right. Plus, my eyes had locked onto the beautiful brown box I knew and loved with the crisp white cursive writing and the big L showcasing the name of the best designer in shoes. I’d have red bottoms now for sure. I’d had plenty of them over the years. Men liked to hand them over as a gift.
These felt different, though. These had been bought with my baby in mind.
I pulled one box out, along with the one under it and another, smaller one. I narrowed my eyes at Rome, looking at the smallest box first.
Was this what I thought it was?
My heart thumped so loud, I felt the beats in my temples, in my ears, throughout my body. My hand shook as I grabbed the edges of the lid. The sturdy cardboard slid off and in that box was a deep red dust bag. I glanced at Rome who was sitting there next to me, arms crossed, waiting patiently.
“You didn’t,” I whispered.
But he had. We both knew it.
I lifted the bag and saw two tiny little combat boots. They were black with red bottoms and they looked just like the ones I wore every now and then. Tiny dual zippers popped in the color silver, next to little itty bitty shoelaces. I flipped them over to showcase the red bottoms.
I slapped a hand over my mouth but couldn’t really hold back the choked-up sob that escaped my lips.
“What the fuck is wrong?” Rome moved quickly, ripping the box from my hands and kneeling before me.
“I just… I didn’t… She didn’t feel real until just now.”