Page 50 of Love Bitters

His laugh draws the attention of the people around us. "You mean that you're a clueless little bird who has no idea what he's doing and needs my help."

"That could've been part of it," I admit returning his grin. "Plus, I thought you might like to know what we're having."

Stopping dead in his tracks, his voice comes from behind me when he blurts, "Seriously? Wes, you can't play with my feelings like this. Are you really going to tell me? I thought you'd drag it out and make me suffer for a few days."

By the time he finishes his statement he's caught back up with me and pulls me to a stop. "Please tell me you weren't kidding."

Allowing his brain to run rampant for a few more seconds, I finally tell him what we're having, and he whoops loudly enough to bring everyone's gazes back to us. Then, before he can help with what I brought him here for, he runs off in the opposite direction, phone in hand no doubt texting Imma. I throw my hands up in amused disbelief. Looks like I'm on my own now. So much for bringing him for help.

I'm still shaking my head as I make my way over to the little clothes racks. Picking up the first thing that catches my eye, it looks like it might be too big for a baby, so I put it back and walk over to one of the stands where tiny bits of material sit neatly folded. There are several different sizes in various months. Does that mean the baby needs to be that old before they can wear it? What about babies that are just born? Is that size the newborn one or zero? Out of all the things in my life, who would've ever thought it would be baby clothes that made me as uncomfortable as I feel right now. I'm completely out of my element and I don't like it. Maybe if I pick something bigger Imma will still like it since the baby can grow into it. Damn it. Where's Ollie when I need him?

As if summoned, a girl walks up with a smile on her face. She's around our age with pretty blonde hair and vivid green eyes behind dark lashes. Her shirt is tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination and I'm pretty sure the location of her nametag, which I refuse to glance at, is no mistake. Before our trip to Tennessee, there's a good chance I'd have already gotten this girl's number and had a date set up. Now? After Imma? Never.

"Need some help?" she asks in a flirty tone.

"Yeah, actually," I confess, hoping that she doesn't take my helplessness as an opening to hit on her. "We're having a baby, and I wanted to buy a few clothes, but I seriously have no idea where to start."

I hate stereotyping women and try my best not to, but sometimes it's just so easy to spot certain ones that my brain does it automatically. Like how this chick's eyelashes flutter enough that no one within eyeshot could miss her checking me out. After I just told her I was having a baby nonetheless.

Ollie deserves a kiss as he chooses this moment to make his reappearance. "Have you picked anything out yet? Oh, hi, we don't need help, thanks." The last comment is directed at the girl whose jaw had dropped slightly when he'd come up beside me. To her, it probably looks like we're a couple, and I'm one hundred percent okay with this as long as it gets her to stop flirting.

"Okay," she starts, "let me know if you do. Congrats on your baby, too, by the way."

Ollie waits until she's walking away to roll his eyes to the ceiling with a snicker. "Never thought I'd see the day when big bad Wes was nervous about talking to a girl."

"Wouldn't have ever happened if you hadn't run off and left me," I accuse out of the corner of my mouth, not sure if the girl is still within hearing distance.

He chuckles under his breath before starting his explanation on sizes. By the time we've left almost an hour later, we're both carrying two armfuls of bags stuffed to the max. We'd agreed on only half the clothes, but we were completely on the same page about everything we got for Imma. I can't wait to see her face when we give it all to her later. I'd had to make Ollie promise to wait for me to get home from work. Which he'll probably stick to...mostly.

When we take our seats in the car, he’s staring at his phone screen like it's going to sprout legs and run off. It starts a knot of worry in my stomach.

"You good, dude?" I ask, trying not to pry too much.

He blinks a couple times like he's refocusing back out of his mind. "I texted Im a little while ago and haven't heard anything back yet. I'm not that needy guy. I just hoped things would go back to the way they were before."

I can agree with him for the most part, but I doubt he's stopped to think about how different things really are now. "She works now, man. There are very few jobs that'll let their employees have their phones out all day, so she may not be able to respond for a couple hours."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shakes his head slightly. "I'm such an idiot. I was just scared she might run again. The whole waiting for her to text back is hitting harder than the first time."

"I know what you mean," I admit, "but I don't think she's going anywhere now. She was just scared before."

As I speak, a plan begins to form in my head. "Why don't we stop by and say hi before I drop you off?"

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