I’m still looking at specs when Rosie waddles back to me with an armful of sheets and blankets and God only knows what else.

Hands on her hips she surveys the overflowing cart. “I better go get another.”

Before I can protest, she’s flouncing down the aisle, dark hair disappearing around the corner when she turns.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I go over the list I made after I spent hours on the internet researching, then I cross off the things I know we’ve put in the cart. I was going to order a crib and stuff for his room, but Rosie gave me a look and said she’d handle it—then she started muttering about wallpaper and paint. I don’t have the first clue what she’ll turn the nursery into, but I’ll let her have her fun.

I peruse the aisles, adding items to my overflowing cart and crossing them off on my phone as I go. I smile in satisfaction at all the checked bubbles. I’m finally starting to get somewhere.

Except I haven’t gotten to meet my son yet.

What if he hates me?

That thought has plagued me since the moment I decided to pursue custody. I have no experience with babies. What if he senses that right off the bat?

Rosie steers an empty cart down the aisle. “What’s put that look on your face?”

I almost don’t answer her, but regardless of the distance we’ve maintained for years, regardless of our falling out, she’s once again become the one person I feel like I can share my fears with. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Who?”

I rub at my chest, hoping to dull the ache behind my ribs. “Sammy.”

“Oh.” She nods, appraising an aisle filled with diapers. “Junior. Got it. He’s a baby, and babies can be weird… I think. I have no experience.” With one hand still on the cart, she waves the other in circles in front of her. “It might take him a bit to warm up to you, but I’m pretty sure that’s normal. You can’t expect everything to be rainbows and sunshine from the get-go.”

“I know,” I grumble. “Jesus.” I let out a low breath, overwhelmed by all the diaper choices. Every package is a different size, and they’re all labeled with numbers that make no sense to me. “I don’t know which one he needs.”

With a sigh, she shrugs. “We’ll just keep doing what we’ve been doing and get a few different kinds.”

“All right.”

By the time we check out, I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of money. I say a silent prayer of thanks that I have access to my own trust and that my dad can’t monitor the money that goes in and out of it. If he could, he’d be calling before the end of the day with questions about why I dropped several grand at Target.

In the parking lot, I load up Rosie’s Mercedes. Thank fuck we had the forethought to bring it. There’s no way all this stuff would fit into my Porsche. I’m already mourning the loss of my motorcycle, and my beloved car is the next to go. I have a kid now. It’s time to be responsible. Sports cars and motorcycles aren’t safe, and I plan to be around a good long while.

My phone rings, and when I pull it from my pocket, my lawyer’s name flashes on the screen. “I need to take this,” I tell Rosie.

“I can finish this up.”

I nod in thanks and slide into the passenger side of the SUV before I answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Hendricks,” Nina croons over the line. Nina Voss is incredible at what she does. In the end, it’ll be worth every penny I’ve given her. I have no doubt she’ll do all she can to make sure I have rights to my son. “I have some good news.”

My heart lurches. I’ve never heard that phrase—I have some good news—from her. “Really?” I straighten in the seat. “What about?”

“Now that the DNA is back and I’ve shown the court documentation that proves you’ve been working toward meeting your son for months, they’ve granted you a supervised visit.”

Hand shaking, I press the phone closer to my ear. “Is that normal?”

“I might’ve pulled a few strings to make a visit happen this early.”

I run my fingers through my hair. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Despite how desperate I am to meet Sammy, my stomach drops out from under me. “Tomorrow?”