“Start at the beginning.”
I drag my hands away and look her in the eye. “It’s not me,” I state. “Harrods. A personal shopper. It’s just not me.”
She nods like she understands. “Did you tell him?”
“I didn’t get a chance. He was too busy talking pushchairs specs with his personal shopper, who hung off his every word.” I shake my head, anger creeping up my spine. “I must have looked like an idiot. I didn’t even know about car seat bases or thatpushchairs have suspension.” She gently places her hand over mine. “But Ray did,” I tell her. “He’s really done his research.”
“So, are you mad because the shop assistant flirted or because he researched?”
I clench my jaw whilst I think over her words. “Honestly, I don’t know. It all just felt . . . too much. I haven’t even had a chance to look at any of the stuff I need, and Ray was there listing it like he’s doing this alone.”
“I can see why that’d piss you off,” she agrees.
“And after overhearing his conversation with Vinn . . .” I trail off, shrugging. “I feel like he’s doing it without me and I’m just his . . .vessel.”
“Did you talk to him about what we overheard?”
I shake my head. “No, not really. We skirt around each bad thing said and carry on as normal.” I groan again. “I’m so tired of feeling like this. I don’t trust him. I can’t relax. And just when I think I can, something else happens and I’m right back here.”
She takes my hand in hers and fixes me with a stare that says she’s about to be straight. “Talk to him, Wynter. And I don’t mean yell. I mean talk about how you’re feeling. Because of he doesn’t know, how can he change?”
I scoff. “Change? You think a man like that will change for me?”
Her brows knit together. “What do you mean?” I shrug, and she sighs heavily. “We talked about this. He’s lucky to have you. You’ve more than good enough, Wynter. And you’re having a child together. Now, go and talk to him.”
By the time I step back out onto the busy street, Ray’s been blowing up my phone nonstop. When it rings again in my hand, I finally answer.
“Where the fuck are you?” he snaps. “I’m going out of my mind here.”
“I was having coffee with Sofia,” I reply calmly.
I hear his sharp intake of breath. “Seriously? You think it’s okay to just disappear without so much as a fucking word?” His voice rises with every word.
“Well, you seemed occupied.”
“Buying things for our baby.”
“Oh, our baby,” I repeat with a scoff. “Now, it’s our baby.”
A beat of silence follows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I sigh heavily, stepping around a couple pushing a pram. “It means you acted like a single parent back there, Ray.”
“What?” he barks. “You were standing right beside me, Wynter.”
“Beside you or behind you?”
Silence.
Then, he growls in frustration. “Where are you? I’m not doing this over the phone.”
I glance across the road, spotting a small street market opposite Frank’s Café. “There’s a market across from the café.”
“Yeah, I know it. I’ll be two minutes,” he mutters before disconnecting.
I shove my phone into my bag and cross the road.
The first stall I come to is covered in baby clothes. Tiny sleepsuits sway lightly in the breeze, soft fabrics in creams, whites, and pale yellows folded into neat little piles. My chest tightens unexpectedly as I reach out, pinching one of the sleeves between my fingers.