Page 16 of That Baby (That Boy 3)
"Hey, Princess," Phillip says, gently waking me. "I've got to run to the office for just a bit. Minor crisis to deal with, but I'll be back in two hours with whatever you want me to bring."
"A chocolate chip muffin and some orange juice sound really good," I suggest.
"Your wish is my command. I can't wait to spend the day with you." He kisses my forehead. "Go back to sleep."
I try but can't get back to sleep. I'm too excited for today. Instead, I get up, take a long shower and prepare myself for our two-day celebration. I shave, paint my nails, blow out my hair and curl it, do my makeup, and then put on a cute dress, tights, and boots.
I go stand in the room that will be the baby's nursery and stare at it. Imagine it with a soft color on the wall. Imagine different furniture arrangements.
We got a large basket as a wedding gift that I thought I would put throws in, but its soft blue color would look really cute in the nursery. I run downstairs, looking for the basket.
"Ahh!" I scream, as I catch a glimpse of the Husker gnome, who is staring at me from atop the living room mantle.
What the hell?
How did he get up there?
I grab my phone, run into our bedroom--so the gnome won't hear me--and call Phillip.
"Are you on your way home?"
"Yeah, should be there in a few minutes. Why? You just wake up? I was hoping to join you in bed."
"Did you move the gnome?"
"The what?"
"You know. That ugly little gnome we got as a wedding gift."
"The Husker one? Uh, no. I honestly haven't seen it since we unwrapped it."
"Or there's another explanation."
"Like, my mom moved it?"
"That or it's possessed and comes alive at night. He moved once before. I just didn't tell you about it."
Phillip laughs.
"Don't you laugh. I'm serious. He was on the dining room table and was creeping me out, so I covered his face with wrapping paper. The next day, the paper was off his head and crunched into a little wad by his boot. So then I shut him in a drawer with the cutlery. How did he get out of the drawer, Phillip?"
"I'm sure there's a logical explanation," he says. Phillip is nothing if not logical.
"Like what?"
"My mom cleaned up the dining room. She must have moved it."
"I'm going to check the drawer."
"For what?"
"To see if she put anything in it."
I run into the dining room, checking on the way to see if the gnome is still on the mantle.
Thankfully, he is.
And he's not holding a little knife or anything--that I can see.
I whip open the drawer and see that it's exactly the way I left it--minus the gnome.
"Shit, Phillip. It's the same."
"I'm pulling in the garage," he says.
I rush to the door, opening it and throwing a dishtowel at him.
He snatches it out of the air. "What's this for?"
"For you to cover the gnome with."
He laughs again. "You're got to be kidding me."
As I grab his hand and drag him to the mantle, he's still chuckling--until he looks the gnome in the eye.
"He does kind of look like trouble," Phillip says seriously, tossing the towel over the gnome's head. "Where do you want him?"
"Back in the drawer," I say, leading him to the dining room and opening the top drawer of the hutch.
Phillip lays the gnome face up, like I did before, and quickly shuts the drawer then grabs my ass. "You look pretty. You ready to go, or you wanna go back to bed?"
"Did you forget my breakfast?"
"It's in the car. I figured I needed to rescue you from the evil gnome first. I learned my lesson with the spider and got here as fast as I could," he says with a smirk. "I didn't want to find you on the ground, being stomped on by his little black boot."
I smack his shoulder. "You better not be making fun of me."
"Never," he says, giving me a deep kiss then picking me up and carrying me to the bedroom.
Now, I'm sitting in the car, eating my muffin, while we drive to the Plaza.
We wander through a bunch of shops, looking at clothes, shoes, and stuff for the house when Phillip stumbles upon something incredible.
"Look at this table," he says, running his hand across the soft wooden top. "People have carved their names in it."
"That's so amazing."
"Can you imagine how cool it would be for our kids to carve their names in it? All their friends. All our friends."
"It'd be a lifetime of memories," I agree. "Just the thought of that--us, with a houseful of kids--makes me feel so emotional. That's what I want our house to be, a place where everyone feels comfortable. Where if you spill juice or some beer, no one's going to freak out. Where you feel love. Happiness."
"I love how excited you are about our future," he says, his hands settling on my stomach. "You changed your mind, didn't you? You want a house full of kids."
"Yeah, I think I do."
"And I think we need a kitchen table like this."
"It looks expensive," I say, hoping my dreams aren't dashed.
Phillip whistles when he sees the price.
"It's one of a kind," I justify, reading the tag and cringing. "Custom designed to fit your space. You even have a choice of woods."
"I like it just like it is," he says. "Do you think it would go with our cabinets?"
"The rustic industrial vibe it has would pair so well with our kitchen design. And, my gosh, this wood is so thick." I bend down to examine it.
"It's a single slab," a salesman tells us. "The designer only makes a few pieces a year. If you're interested, you'd put twenty-five percent down as a deposit. That gets you a place in line. When it's time for him to work on your table, we get another twenty-five percent and then the balance is due upon delivery."
"And how long would it take for delivery?"
"He's running about six to eight months out."
"That's okay," Phillip says, shocking me. "We have the dining room table and we sit at the kitchen island most of the time anyway. We're going to have lunch and discuss it. I think we'll be back."
"Are you serious about the table?" I ask as we're headed into my favorite Italian restaurant.
Phillip takes my hand in his. "At our wedding, I promised to support your wild ideas. This one's easy to support because I think it's really cool. I especially loved the steel table edges. And it's pretty good timing, really. We'd get it right after the baby is born."
"It'll be a while before the baby can carve its name."
"That's true, but our first carving could be the baby's name and birthdate. Speaking of names, we haven't talked about them yet. Should we?" he asks as we're seated.
"Um, no, I don't think so yet."
"Why not?"
"The same reason I don't want to buy stuff for the nursery."
"What if we talked about names we like in general for all our possible future children? The kind of names you'd like to see carved in our table."
"Are you going to order it, really?"
"If you want it, yes."
"Do you want it?"
"I think it's cool but it's more than that. It's the way you reacted to it. I want our home to have things that are special to us."
"Me too, Phillip. You sure you're okay with the price?"
"It's more than I ever thought I'd spend on a table, but it's massive, custom made, and will last us forever. I didn't tell you, but I'm getting a bonus. A really nice bonus."
"When? What for?"
"Well, I won't get it for another month, but it's for hitting my goals. My division is up by thirty percent. Considering it was down when I took it over after graduation, that's pretty damn good."
"I'm proud of you, Phillip."
He gives me a grin. "And I want us to have that table."
"Then I think we should definitely go back after lunch and order it."
"So what's next?" he asks, after we've had lunch and put our deposit down on the table.
"Well, if we're doing our picnic by the fireplace tonight, we'll need supplies."
"Like lingerie?"
"And food."
He grabs my hand and leads me across the street to the lingerie store.
"Are you going to be embarrassed to go in here with me?" I tease.
"No way. And you're modeling everything for me."
"I'm not sure boys are allowed in the dressing room area."
"Then I'm going in the room with you."
"Your husband is so cute," the too-sexy-for-her-own-good salesgirl says. "He told me to bring you this. Says it's your anniversary."
"Yes, it is," I laugh. "And apparently the one month anniversary is all about lace."
"Oh, you're newlyweds. Did you date for long?"
"We got engaged on our first real date and got married four months later."
"Was it, like, an arranged marriage?"
"No, we'd been friends for a long time."
"So is it hard living with a guy who looks like that?" she asks.
"Looks like what?"
"He's so hot," she gushes. "But he doesn't seem like an asshole."
"Yeah, he's not."
"Every hot guy I date is. And the dreamy way he talks about you is so adorable. Where did you find him?"
"Next door," I say with a laugh. "Um, would you send him back here? I want to show him this one."
"Sure," she says, leaving me with more silk and lace.
Phillip comes strolling back looking sexy as ever. "Are you out there flirting with the salesgirls?"
"Me, no? I was telling them all about you. About our anniversary."
"They're all drooling over you--it's the scruff. It's practically devastating," I tease.
"You're silly. Are you going to let me see what you have on?"
I open the door.
"Wow. Now that is devastating. We might need one in every color," he says, feasting his eyes on my body.
"I'm glad you like it." I close the door because I only want him to see a peek, but his hand stops the door from shutting and he eases his way into the dressing room.
"You're not supposed to be in here."
