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“Okay, so my baby vocabulary needs some work, but I think I’m doing a pretty good job.”
Payton chews her food, looking away for a moment, but when she goes for another drink, I see the smile she tries to hide, and I take it as a nonverbalYeah, Mase, you are.
Deaton starts rubbing his face along my shoulder, kicking a little more frantically, and I look her way with worry.
She smiles, whipping her hands up and pushing to her feet. “That means he’s ready to eat.”
“I can feed him.” I glance into the bag sitting under the stroller, looking for one of the bottles, but there’s no more in the side pocket. I look up at her, and her cheeks tinge pink.
“I, um, forgot my pump, and we used all the formula I brought at the parks the last few days so…”
I replay her words a few times, and it finally dawns on me: She needs to feed him, as in…with her body. I think about last night and yesterday morning, how after I got out of the showerboth times, she was burping him, and I realize she’s only been breastfeeding when I’ve been away or occupied.
Why does that bother me?
I clear my throat, fighting off the sense of…I don’t even know what, and add our room information to the bill the lady set down before standing with him in my arms.
Silently, we make our way back to the room, me holding Deaton and her pushing the stroller.
People smile at us as they walk by, and the little kids stare at him like he’s a toy they wish they could play with, and it all fills me with a sense of pride I may have no right to feel but do.
It doesn’t hurt to pretend, right? If in my head I also see us as the little family these strangers see when their eyes are on us.
Man, is that fucked-up?
“Do you think we could go down to the spa?”
My mind clears, new images replacing the others, and the idea of a man rubbing his hands all over her has me frowning. “I mean, I can give you a massage if you need it. My hands are strong.”
While she blushes a bit, she also smiles. “No, like…the hot tub spa?”
“Oh.” Now the images in my head? “Ohhh.”
Payton laughs, and I swear she knows what I was thinking. Maybe even likes it, the thought of a man getting jealous over her.
No, the thought ofmejealous.
“I mean, I didn’t bring a suit or anything, but I have a pair spandex shorts I can wear, and we leave tomorrow, so I can just wear this top in.” She looks to the T-shirt she’s wearing, a frown on her face.
I can see the moment she starts to change her mind.
She fiddles with the hem, tugging it outward so it doesn’t press against her newfound curves and starts chewing on her lower lip. “Actually?—”
“We are definitely hitting up the hot tub, even if we have to wrestle some ten-year-olds for a spot by the jets.”
Payton looks my way with a knowing smirk.
“I don’t have trunks either, so basketball shorts it is, and you can borrow one of my tops if you want.”
“I might just take you up on that.” She grins, heading out of the elevator before me and moving up toward our room.
We step inside, and I talk a bunch of nonsense to Deaton as she stacks pillows on the freshly made bed before moving over to me to take her son into her arms.
I try to busy myself, but we picked up before we headed out this morning, and the maids were already here, so I’m moving around aimlessly. I dig in my bag for clothes to get wet in, change, and take too long in the bathroom to kill time. I move to my suitcase once more, folding and refolding my clothes.
“Mason.”
“Yeah?” My voice is scratchy, so I clear it and try again. “Yeah?”
