Page 84 of Christmas with Brother's Best Friends
I lean my cheek against his chest, letting him envelop me in his comforting embrace. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Ryan asks as he peers down at me.
“Taking my mind off things for a little while,” I say, feeling my worries start to creep back. They can’t fight through the post-sex bliss, though. Not for right now at least.
Ryan frowns. “We should talk.”
“Later. Just hold me first,” I tell him with a hopeful gleam in my eyes. I know that he just wants to help, but I know what will make me feel better, even if it’s only temporary.
Ryan seems hesitant to shove things to the side, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he does exactly as I ask and keeps me wrapped up in his arms.
This is where I want to exist right now. This is where I feel safe and shielded from the rest of the world, and I hate the thought of leaving.
I hate the thought of leaving the bubble that the guys and I are in because once it pops, there’s no going back.
There are only the consequences that we have to face and the things that we might lose along the way.
Chapter thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Max
“Onesies over there. Baby wipes and diapers on the kitchen counter. An excessive amount of baby socks over here. Damn, how much stuff do we already have?”
Emma fixes me with a pointed look as she watches me meticulously organize all of the baby items that we’ve already bought over the past month. “We can never have enough baby stuff, Max. There is no limit.”
Well, she’s not wrong. Our baby will go through all of these things and even more as they grow. We’ll be buying stuff for them until the end of our lives because I refuse to be like Ryan’s and Josh’s parents who cut them off at eighteen and stopped giving a shit about them.
I’m grateful for my parents. I don’t ask for anything from them because I have everything that I need, but my mom still likes toshow up at my house or at the office with baked goods. My dad still likes to offer help with home and car maintenance, even if I can handle it myself or pay someone else.
They want to be involved for as long as they’re here, and I’m not going to tell them to leave me alone. They’re just being good parents. I’ll miss them like hell when they do pass on.
Honestly, they’re who I’m taking inspiration from when I think about how I’m going to be a good parent to our child.
“You don’t have to store all this stuff in your apartment, Em. It’s taking up all of your closet space,” I tell her as I roam around her living room and kitchen, taking note of everything that we have.
“I don’t want everything spread out between four places. We’ll lose things or forget what we even bought. It’s easier to have them in one place,” Emma replies as she absentmindedly rubs her stomach. She’s been doing that a lot lately.
I think it helps soothe her, and she probably thinks it soothes the baby too. It’s cute.
I swear that she’s been glowing lately.
“Well, we need to start getting some of the more big ticket items soon. At least let us store those things at our places,” I tell her as I pull up the list on my phone. I don’t know where the hell we’re going to hide a car seat, a stroller, or a crib in her small apartment.
It’s not like we can just set them along a wall and call it a day. Andrew and Ethan drop by every once in a while, and if they spot any of the baby stuff, they’ll havea lotof questions.
“Because my apartment is tiny compared to your penthouses?” Emma replies with a playful smirk on her face.
“Plenty of room for you and the baby,” I point out before I can watch what I’m saying.
A few moments of silence pass by as we peer at each other, my words lingering in the quiet. That’s something that we have to figure out. We all live in different places, but we’ll be sharing the responsibility of raising a baby together.
As much as I want her to live with me or us if we all agree to get a place together, I don’t want to pressure her. She has enough on her plate right now growing our little one.
And keeping them a secret.
“When do you want to shop for the car seat? I looked up some good brands,” I ask her, breaking the silence.
“I have a deadline on the 5th, so the 6th works for me,” Emma replies as she wanders over to the onesies to neatly fold them.
