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Precious Dreams turns out to be much larger than it looks from the outside, and I become immediately overwhelmed the second we step inside.

The girls scatter, smiling and showing me things I just have to have, but we never needed a Diaper Genie or five different types of bottles back at the compound. We only had minimal items to raise the children there. I tried my best to get excited each time I was shown something new, but it seemed like a waste of money to me.

“And this for when the baby starts to crawl,” Sophia says, holding up some type of safety device for cabinets.

It made me realize how different things were going to be. If the Clarks don’t get their way, I’m going to get to raise my child. I’m going to be able to breastfeed as long as I want because I won’t be required to leave my baby with the other women and wet nurses.

At the compound, women are separated from their children not long after birth. Breastfeeding past a month isn’t allowed because Charles believes it decreases fertility and his goal has always been to have as many babies as possible, even if the woman’s body wasn’t ready yet. There was no six-week wait for sex like I’ve read in the books some of the girls gave me.

“Are you okay?” Em asks as she takes a seat beside me.

“I’m okay,” I answer. “Do I really have to worry about cabinet locks right now?”

“No,” she says simply. “Plus, we have plenty at the clubhouse already. Don’t be afraid to tell them no. Was there anything in particular you wanted from this trip?”

“I saw this bean-shaped pillow in a pregnancy magazine,” I say, even though it feels like a frivolous item. We have plenty of pillows on our bed already. I could easily use one of those.

“They have a ton of those here, and about a hundred patterns for covers. They even have gender-neutral ones since you’re waiting to find out the sex. Let me show you.”

Em escorts me to the far corner of the room, helping me feel included when it’s my own fault I’ve been on the outside of nearly every conversation.

“What if it’s a waste of time and money?” I whisper as I hold up a soft yellow pillow cover with tiny bees on it.

“They can be used for bottle-fed babies as well,” Em says with a soft smile.

“No, I mean all of this shopping. There’s a chance I won’t even get to keep the baby.”

She pulls the cover from my hand and places it back on the shelf before turning me around to face her. “There is absolutely no chance of that happening. You have the entire club behind you and several dozen character witnesses willing to go before a judge and speak on your behalf and Nate’s. You have a home and childcare sorted out. You have health insurance and a loving husband. If that’s what you’re worried about, then get that mess out of your head. No one is taking that baby from you. I promise.”

She wipes a tear from my cheek, giving me a soft smile.

“Thank you,” I tell her, not able to figure out a way to show just how truly grateful I am for her words. She says them with such ferocity, that I allow myself to believe her.

“Now, do you like the bees or the farm animals better?” She takes a step back, grabbing one of each from the shelf before holding them up for me to choose. “You know what. We’ll just get them both.”

I chuckle and nod my head.

“What about one of these?” Kincaid asks as he approaches with what looks like a torture contraption. “Didn’t we have something like this for the girls?”

I can’t even begin to describe how weird it is to see this tall, bald, bearded, tattoo-covered biker holding up baby items.

“She’ll probably want one of the slings made mostly of fabric. April? Have you given any thought to what kind of sling to use?”

“I haven’t,” I confess, and so leads the trek across the store to look at those things.

The day gets easier from there, and despite Cara’s suggestion to spend a little bit of the cards on several trips, I use every single penny on the gift cards provided, and when I have to start selecting things to put back, Kincaid walks up and swipes his credit card, giving me a look that tells me not to even think about arguing.

Em takes the receipt, saying she’ll want to make sure we don’t double up at Target, and we head out.

By the time we make it back to the clubhouse, the men are loaded down with bags and boxes of everything a baby could want or need for the first year of their life.

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