Page 52 of Your Second Chance
“It is,” he admitted, that stupidly charming grin spreading across his face. “Who cares? Let’s be tourists for the day.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. He had this way of making everything seem lighter, like it was okay to let go for a while.
“Alright, fine,” I sighed, giving in. “But if it’s packed, I’m blaming you.”
“Blame away.” He held out his hand.
I hesitated for a second before sliding my fingers into his. His hand was warm, his grip steady, and he looked down and paused, watching as our hands interlocked before he guided me into the market.
The air buzzed around us, lively and chaotic, with the sounds of laughter, sizzling food, and vendors shouting out their deals. My stomach growled again, loud enough that Ollie stopped mid-step and turned to look at me.
“Alright, love?”
I rubbed my stomach and sighed dramatically. “The pomegranate is hungry.”
“Why do you call her fruit names?”
It was funny how he personalized her. It was easier for me to compare her to a fruit so that I wasn’t constantly reminded of her imminent arrival, but he so easily humanized the baby by calling her, her.
“Every week, the baby’s size is compared to a fruit. Actually, this week is a mango... I think. I haven’t checked yet.”
He pulled out his phone, his fingers deftly scrolling. “Nineteen weeks, yeah? Let’s see... Mango.” He grinned, tucking his phone back into his coat. “Right. Let’s find you one.”
Before I could protest, his hand was in mine, and he guided me through the maze of stalls with surprising determination. It wasn’t long before we stopped at a stand selling fresh mango slices, sprinkled with tajin.
I took a bite, the tangy sweetness mixed with the spice making me groan in delight. “This is amazing,” I admitted, licking a bit of juice off my thumb.
As we walked on, we passed a stall with rows of hats on display, all different shapes and colors. Ollie slowed, eyes scanning the options before he grabbed one.
“You’re freezing,” he said matter-of-factly, plopping a cream-colored knit hat with an obnoxious pom-pom on top of my head.
“I’m fine.” I tugged it off.
“You’re not.” He pulled it over my ears with a smirk. “And the pomegranate deserves one, too.”
I watched in horror as he grabbed a miniature version of the hat, also with a ridiculous pom-pom, and held it up triumphantly.
“Obnoxiously matching. Perfect.” He teased me while handing the vendor some cash.
“You’re insufferable,” I muttered, adjusting the hat.
“And warm,” he added with a grin.
We continued until we came to a vendor overflowing with plush toys. Ollie’s hand was warm and steady as he guided me inside. My eyes wandered across the shelves until they landed on a soft plush moon with a sweet little face embroidered on the front.
“Luna would love this,” I said, picking it up and running my fingers over the stitching.
He grabbed the stuffie and shoved it under his arms. “Let’s get it for her.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t, but I will.”
We walked around the stall a few times. “Luna’s been like a sister to me for so long. She didn’t have a family growing up, so Mami kind of took her in. We’ve truly been inseparable since.”
“She’s wild. You guys are like polar opposites.”
“Kind of.” My hand grazed a plushie that matched the moon. It was a little golden star with the same stitched happy face on it. “She uses her humor and her extroverted personality to mask a lot of the shit inside. I wear mine more openly.”
