Page 93 of Hooked On Them

Now we faced our final boss battle: finding a gift for a five-year-old girl we’d never met.

“What about this?” Carter held up something pink and sparkly that might have been a wand or possibly a weapon of mass destruction. Hard to tell with children’s toys these days.

Miles shook his head. “Too generic. Nora said Laney likes that showBluey, dogs, and art.”

I hung back, letting them take point on this one. My knowledge of children was limited to older ones that played hockey and occasionally signed autographs for them at games. Great preparation for fatherhood.

The store stretched before us in a maze of colorful displays, divided by age and interest. Toy instruments that no parent would want in their home. Art supplies guaranteed to destroy furniture. Books with buttons that made animal sounds. It was retail chaos.

I drifted away from Carter and Miles, who were already deep in debate about whether a five-year-old would prefer a chemistry set or a light-up tiara. Without realizing it, I found myself in a quieter section toward the back. Softer lighting. Gentler colors. The baby section.

My steps slowed. There was a display of tiny clothes folded and hung. Knit caps that were smaller than my hand. A neutral-toned baby blanket with small whales embroidered along the edge.

I reached out, my fingers brushing the soft fabric of the blanket. It was simple, not flashy or covered in cartoon characters. Just... perfect.

The room was suddenly too warm, and my chest too tight.

“There you are!” Carter materialized beside me, holding a child-sized tiara and a glittery purse. “Do five-year-olds still believe in fairy princesses? Or is that, like, so preschool?”

I blinked, trying to recalibrate to Carter’s energy level. “How the hell would I know?”

“Fair point. Neither of us exactly screams expert on little girls.” He glanced down at what I was touching. “Baby shopping already? Ambitious, considering Gummy Bear is like, what, the size of an avocado now?”

“I wasn’t—” I snatched my hand back from the blanket. “I was just looking.”

“Sure, Dom.” Carter’s voice lacked its usual teasing edge. “It’s a nice blanket. Get it.”

Miles appeared on my other side, holding a stuffed animal that was part dog, part unicorn. He followed our gazes to the baby display. “You know, we could grab a few things for the baby while we’re here.”

“It’s too early,” I protested automatically, even though I had already ordered a few things here and there. But they didn’t need to know that. “We don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl.”

“So we get neutral stuff.” Miles gestured to the display. “That whale blanket is perfect.” He cleared his throat. “It’s the first Christmas we’ll have with the baby, technically. Even if they’re still, you know, in utero.”

Carter bounced on his toes like an overgrown child. “We should totally get Baby’s First Christmas stuff!” He reached over and grabbed a tiny onesie that saidMy First Christmaswith a bear wearing a Santa hat.

I stared at it, something uncomfortable and warm spreading in my chest. It felt like indigestion but was emotional. The tiny onesie dangled between Carter’s fingers, innocent and impossibly small, and I had the sudden, vivid image of my baby wearing it.

The sensation wasn’t quite panic, wasn’t quite joy, but some new hybrid emotion I hadn’t encountered before. Parenthood was coming at me like a freight train, and here I was, standing in a kid’s store, caught off guard by a piece of cotton with a cartoon bear on it.

“What do you think, Dom?” Miles asked quietly. “Your call.”

The strange part was that it didn’t feel weird standing there with them, contemplating baby gifts. It should have. These were the two guys who’d been inside the mother of my child. Guys who openly wanted to be with her even though she was pregnant. Who I’d watched kiss her, touch her, and care for her.

Yet here we were, three grown men in the baby section, and it felt... right.

“The blanket’s good.” I picked it up gently, as if it might fall apart. “And maybe some practical stuff. Nothing too Christmas-specific. GB isn’t even due until summer.”

Twenty minutes later, we’d assembled a small collection of baby items alongside Laney’s gifts. Our haul was impressive enough that the cashier’s eyes widened as she began scanning.

“You guys must really love this little girl.” She smiled, ringing up Laney’s gifts first. “And...” She paused, looking at the baby items. “Are you all new dads?”

The three of us froze, exchanging glances.

Miles shifted his weight. “Not exactly.”

“It’s complicated,” Carter added with his charm-the-pants-off-you smile.

I said nothing, tapped my phone on the card machine before the others could object. Guess some primal provider instinct kicked in.

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