Page 108 of Set Me On Fire

“Are you always this good at talking people off a ledge?” I asked him, and he smiled.

“I deal with scared people every day.” My jaw tightened, not really liking the idea of being yet another burden on him, but he smoothed a thumb along it, forcing the muscle to relax. “Helping people is why I got into the fire service in the first place.”

“OK.” I went to pull away but he held me close. “So maybe this isn’t so bad. You’re not covered in soot or breathing in toxic fumes at least. It’s just a crib.”

“It’s just a crib,” he agreed.

“I mean it’s my baby’s first bed and I want it to be special.” My mouth was moving, the words I was trying to keep back, spilling out. “The room should be light and airy and peaceful and pretty, but gender neutral, because I don’t know what I’m having.”

“What we’re having.”

He turned me around in his arms and somehow that made it easier for me to survey the floor.

“I mean, the sleigh beds are gorgeous.” He let me go so I could go to the nearest one, running my hand over the curve of one side of it. “The shape, the colour.” I turned back to look at him. “The ash wood is almost grey in tone.” He nodded, coming closer. “But bloody hell, is there a grey tax or something?” My voice dropped low, and I cast a sidelong look at the shop assistant who was helping someone else. “This is an insane price. Maybe we can go to Kmart and find a cheaper knock off.”

“Nope. No knockoffs. I want something solid that will last through one kid.” He dared to look down at me. “Maybe more.”

“More…?”

This was all going so fast I was struggling to catch up, yet somehow Knox was already ahead of me.

“Maybe.” He seemed to realise he might’ve mis-stepped, all that confidence starting to crumble. “I mean?—”

I pressed my lips to his, unable to hear him stumble through this. There could only be one person messing things up today and that was me.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “But we need to focus on successfully bringing one child into the world first, so… Do you like this one?”

He watched me rub my hand up and down the crib railing and then smiled.

“I love it. Let’s see if they have a matching change table.”

There wasno high like the one you got when spending someone else’s money. We stumbled back in through his front door, laden down with bags of toys and baby wraps and every other damn thing the shop assistant pushed towards us. She seemed to realise she had a cash cow on her hands and was intent on milking Knox dry. Buster greeted us with all the same enthusiasm as before, milling around our legs as we dragged our haul into the nursery. Then he needed to sniff every single bag, making sure it was all safe to be inside the house before turning to us for pats.

“The furniture should be delivered in a few days,” Knox said. “I’ll put it together and then you can come and take a look, make sure everything is where you want it. I thought we could maybe look at some paint colours in the meantime? That way I can have the walls done before the furniture arrives.”

“You mean pick a colour other than grey?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, then walked over to a pile of paint brochures, opening up the colour charts. “With that ash wood, maybe a sage green?”

That’s when I slid in behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and peering over his shoulder. He tensed for just a moment, but then leaned into the embrace.

“A grey green, you mean.”

“It’s not a grey green,” he spluttered. “It’s soft, restful…”

He didn’t know, but I’d always loved these kinds of moments. Small ones, quiet ones, with someone you can let your guard down with. As he blathered on about his dubious colour choices, I pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin, the curl of his hair at the nape, and his voice trailed away. That feeling of connection was as fragile as I was and just as easily broken. He pulled away, and for a second I feared I’d overstepped, but Knox didn’t go scuttling out the door claiming he needed to take the dog for a run. Instead, he shifted in my grip so he could face me. His fingers found the slope of my cheek, tracing its curve with undue attention.

“Millie…”

“Knox…”

“I wanted to thank you—” he started to say.

“No, I wanted to thank you.”

I didn’t know where this was going, what I was doing, but I figured all I could do was wing it. Surely if I kept my intentions pure, I couldn’t do anything wrong? That thought was there and gone again as he leaned down, replacing his fingers with his lips. He seared my skin, branding me as his, and rather than pull away, my chin was tilted his way to give him better access to my lips. He kissed me, quietly, softly, in the peace of the soon-to-be nursery and that had my mind racing ahead.

Visions of being in here once it was finished, my baby in my arms and me in his. Knox collecting up our crying child and placing them on his shoulder, patting their bum rhythmically as I readied myself to feed them. Of him being this silent, watchful, strong presence by my side.

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