Baby I'm Yours

by Rosie Praks

  Max was glad that he got many toys for his godbaby, but he still felt a little sour that the limited edition Elmo was taken by the other kid. Such a shame.

  But no use crying over spilled milk now. Max was always the optimistic type, seeing everything as glass half full. So he went out into the parking lot to wait for the others.

  While waiting in the chilly wind, he thought he saw Hunter’s car driving away with his cuz in the passenger seat. He wasn’t sure, but when the car returned and drove right past his eyes, he smiled, fully sure now that it was no apparition.

  He guessed this big bro was serious with his cousin after all. And he was glad. He smirked, shook his head, and waited for the others to arrive.

  “Where’s Clarice?” Elise asked when she didn’t see her friend coming out of the shop after everyone had assembled outside.

  “Don’t worry about Clarice,” Max said, smirking like he had a secret to hide. “Someone special came to collect her. She’s already gone home.”

  “The skimpy prude. Leaving us with all this stuff while she’s gone off with her lover boy,” Whitney whined.

  “Stop it, Whitney.” Elise reprimanded her friend. “I’m sure when you meet your one true love, you’ll be even worse than Clarice.”

  “Yeah. You might even elope with him,” Max added, adding more fuel onto the already burning flame.

  “I will not elope with anyone,” Whitney shouted. “And you, Max, stop saying things like that. I’m never going to get married. I’m going to stay a spinster forever.”

  “Huh! I’ll wait and see, then.” Max laughed.

  “Just you wait and see.” Whitney pointed a finger at Max and Elise. “I will not get married. Fern, you be my witness.”

  “Why me?” Fern asked Whitney.

  “Because everyone here is conspiring against me,” Whitney replied. “You’re the only one that can be my witness.”

  Fern only giggled. “Okay, okay. I’ll be your witness when the time comes.”

  Once Whitney managed to cool down a bit, she turned to the mountain of baby’s supplies in her trolley and asked, “So what are we going to do with all of this stuff, then?”

  Max also turned to his trolley. His was piled high with toys. Spiderman, X-man, the Hulk, all sorts of action figures that he could get his hands on. The only two trolleys that weren’t filled to the brim were Fern’s and Elise’s. Fern’s trolley only contained a few of the beautiful designer baby clothes, whereas Elise’s held only one single book, not worth even wheeling a trolley around.

  “We could drop them at her house later,” Elise suggested.

  “I agree. I want to visit Clarice’s house,” Fern added in excitement.

  Now that their conversation was over, they didn’t know what else to say. Whitney knew the day was too bright to go back to sleep now, so there was only one solution. Glancing at her new friend and the others, she asked, “Coffee anyone?”

  “Absolutely.” Max hyped up right away, dragging all three ladies to the nearest coffee shop so he could fully rejuvenate himself before they all dropped their godbaby’s stuff at Clarice’s house later that day.

  “Dear heaven!” Clarice exclaimed, turning to face Hunter as if she’d remembered something. Her eyes were shining bright and alert as she sat in the front passenger seat of Hunter’s car, staring at him. They were now on the main road, travelling to a destination unknown as yet to her. “I forgot about our baby’s nappies. They’re still in the trolley.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Hunter shook his head, his eyes still focused on the road, his mouth still in that grim line. “I’ll take you to buy those nappies elsewhere.”

  Okay. So that’s where they were going. But why was Hunter not smiling? Why was he still brooding? She did apologize to him when she caught up to him. But all he’d said was to get in the car. She’d followed through, hoping he would be happy, but obviously he was not. Now he was even speaking in that tone that made her feel she had committed a crime.

  Clarice wanted to moan. Since realizing she loved Hunter, she didn’t like him acting like this. She preferred him all childish and playing games with her, or when he acted like a puppy, always asking for a pat on the head. This Hunter was way too serious.

  “But my car,” she whined to get Hunter’s attention. “I forgot my car too.”

  “Leave it there. We’ll pick it up later,” Hunter said in a sharp tone. Then he jerked the car around a corner, completely ignoring her yelp.

  Clarice snapped, “Look, Hunter, are you still mad at me?”

  “I’m not,” he said impassively.

  Although Hunter didn’t say he was mad at her, his facial expression spoke clearly enough. Hunter was still angry, and she knew it. His jaws were clenched tight and his eyes shrewd, his piercing gaze focused on the road, glaring at any passing object with intense concentration. Yet the one object onto which he was supposed to provide that intense concentration he neglected.

  “Where are you taking me?” Clarice asked softly this time, changing her tactic. Perhaps if she were to speak nicely to him, he might forgive her and mellow out.

  “To BabyWorld,” he drew out in the same impassive tone.

  “Could you take me to breakfast first? I’m hungry. Please,” she suggested sweetly.

  “Fine,” he said in that offbeat tone again, which irritated Clarice’s system. Then off they drove, elucidating another yelp from Clarice when Hunter bent the car around the curve too sharply.

  Clarice grunted and turned away. Wow. Maybe Hunter is very sensitive after all, she thought, chewing her lip. She couldn’t have Hunter acting like this toward her. She wanted him to put that smile on his face again. Then she decided to make Hunter feel better. By the end of this day, she planned to have his forgiveness.

  When they arrived at one of the cafés that Hunter liked to frequent, Clarice acted even sweeter than sugar on a cake.

  “Hunter, would you like some eggs?” she asked, holding out a piece of egg on her fork after their meals were delivered to their table.

  “No.” Hunter pouted and turned away.

  Clarice tried again. “Come on. It’s very nice.”

  “Only if you feed me,” Hunter said, not a trace of amusement on his face. “Then I’ll consider it.”

  When Clarice hesitated, Hunter said, “You asked, didn’t you? So feed me.”

  This damned stubborn man. Clarice fumed. How much more did she have to do before he was satisfied and forgave her? But nonetheless, it was all her fault. So she would abide by his law.

  Clarice threw her morals aside and did as Hunter suggested.

  “Okay, open wide, then.” She smiled, pretending to sound cheerful, and forked the egg into his mouth. The fork lingered for a few seconds extra before he let it go.

  “Well, is it nice?” she asked, watching his facial expression to see whether she had pleased him. Obviously, it didn’t because his face still held that vexed look.

  “It tastes okay.” That was all Hunter said before he shoved some more food into his mouth, completely ignoring her.

  Humph. The ego of this man. Clarice wanted to bonk his head with her plate, but then she remembered she was supposed to act sweet so he would forgive her.

  So sweeter than Manuka honey and softer than cheesecake, Clarice used all her charm to please Hunter. Passing water to him, feeding him more eggs. But by the end of their meal, Hunter was still in that brooding mood, not giving her any clear indication on whether she was forgiven or not. And then at BabyWorld, she thought she had succeeded in her goal of making Hunter smile, but he only helped her stock up on nappies.

  That was it. Still in that awful mood, he dropped her off at BabyLand’s car park once they finished their shopping.

  Clarice arrived home first.

  Hunter wasn’t there.

  There were only bags and bags of baby supplies. She had completely forgotten about her friends. She should make it up to them later. Maybe invite them out to lunch or something. Fer
n too.

  The thought only had her smiling for a few minutes when she remembered the subject of Hunter’s strange behavior.

  Clarice was starting to get worried again as time passed and Hunter still didn’t return home.

  Did my laughter really make him that mad?

  Obviously. The man wasn’t even home.

  She texted him.

  There was no reply.

  She called him.

  He didn’t pick up his phone.

  By this stage, guilt was eating her alive.

  By nightfall, Clarice had ripped out more than twenty or so letters of apology. None sounded right. The first letter started of with…

  Dear You Casanova,

  No that sounds bad. She ripped it out and threw it in the waste bin.

  Next one.

  Dear Hunter,

  I’m sorry for hurting your sensitive feelings.

  That sounds like crap.

  Next one.

  The following twenty or so letters sounded pretty much like the previous ones, until number twenty-one.

  Dear Hunter, my beloved,

  Clarice, what is wrong with you? She cursed herself when she realized what she’d written. This is not a love letter. This is a letter of apology.

  Next one.

  Dear Hunter,

  Oh, dear heaven. She couldn’t write anything at all. Maybe it would be best to show her remorse. Yes, didn’t some philosopher say action speaks louder than words? So she must act.

  That night, Clarice finally decided to use her ultimate weapon. Tonight, when Hunter came home, she would act out her apology and hope to heaven he would yield and forgive her.

  Hunter arrived home at exactly 10:30 p.m. Clarice knew this because she had her eyes on the clock.

  It was the sound of his car that first caught her attention. She jumped into bed, dabbed on some juicy lip-gloss and, making sure all was in place, she relaxed against the headboard.

  Slowly, she heard his footsteps walking up the stairs, heading to her bedroom. She was sitting in her bed, waiting for him, her heart jumping with nerves and droplets of sweats pouring down her temples, a different picture to the one she exuded right now, her shoulders squared and her back rod straight.

  Hunter walked in at that moment, his face still plastered with that impassive expression.

  “Hunter,” she demanded, using an authoritative tone, which she’d seen Whitney use when she visited her friend at the office. “Come here at once.”

  She could see Hunter was surprised. Good. Very good. If Hunter continues to act all meek like this, I’m sure my plan will work.

  With slumped shoulders and feet that seemed to weigh over one hundred pounds, Hunter dragged his feet toward Clarice.

  Clarice smiled. Almost there. A few more steps now, Hunter. Just a few more steps.

  As soon as Hunter got to her, she grabbed his neck and…

  Smashed her lips against his, awakening him from his impassive state. Her lips molded to his, employing all the force and action she could muster, blocking his mouth from escaping. Her tongue delved in deeper.

  Hunter struggled, but Clarice held him tight, her fingers bracing his head from behind, refusing to let go. It wasn’t until she was running out of oxygen and feeling slightly feeble that she finally let him go.

  “Clarice.” Hunter was out of breath after that attack, collapsing on the bed. “What the hell was that?”

  “It was… was… an apology kiss.” She panted, also out of breath. “So will… you… you forgive me now?”

  “I…” Another gulp of air went into Hunter’s starved lungs before he could speak any further.

  “Look, I’m sorry.” Clarice interrupted before he could continue, her breath ragged. “I didn’t know laughing at you would cause you to brood for so long. I’m sorry. So in return, I gave you a kiss. And I’m willing to amend our contract.”

  “You gave me a kiss and are willing to amend our contract?” Hunter clarified, recovered from that surprise attack.

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “In what way?” Hunter squinted at her suspiciously.

  “From now on, I will allow you to kiss me good night,” Clarice declared proudly.

  “Kiss you? Haven’t I been doing that already?” Hunter asked.

  “Yes, I know, but this time I give you permission. On the lips.” Clarice announced her ultimate weapon by tapping her lips with her finger.

  Hunter looked like his eyes were about to fall out, staring at her succulent lips like that.

  “On the lips?” He repeated for clarification, his eyes still drawn to her lush plump lips.

  “Yes, a good night kiss on the lips,” Clarice repeated. “Every night before bed. As part of the contract, until our baby is born.”

  “I don’t know, Clarice. It sure hurt a lot when you laughed at me like that.” Hunter started turning away from her.

  What? How can this be? She thought by allowing Hunter to kiss her on the lips, he would forgive her and she and he would go back to the way they were before, the Casanova and the spinster, cohabiting for the sake of their baby, but now…

  “I propose we change the contract a bit.” Hunter turned back. “You will allow me to kiss you on the lips in the morning and at night. Plus—”

  “Plus what?” Clarice opened her eyes wide. This wasn’t going the way she had planned at all. What other clause did Hunter want to put forth?

  “Plus, I get to sleep on your bed.”

  “No!” Clarice said automatically. No way José would she allow Hunter to share her bed. She didn’t want him to know she was madly in love with him. What happened if she had another dream of Hunter kissing her? Then, because she couldn’t restrain herself, she would attack him in her sleep. No, she was a very dangerous threat to Hunter. Plus, what would her staff at Smile Dental write in their weekly news blog that would be distributed around New Zealand if they were to catch wind of their situation?

  “Newly turned thirty, Clarice Mason, the spinster periodontist at Smile Dental, attacked a hot male stud last night while in bed, ravishing him alive because of a dream. Now taken into custody for questioning.”

  Ah, no. This won’t do. It won’t do at all.

  “No, Hunter. I cannot accept that clause,” she said.

  “Then you don’t have my forgiveness.” Hunter spoke, about to turn away.

  Clarice grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

  “But I’ve given you a kiss. Isn’t that enough?”

  “That’s not enough. I want a good morning and a good night kiss. And more importantly, a proper bed to sleep on.”

  “Okay, you can have the guest bedroom, then.”

  “No, your bed.”

  “No, Hunter, I can give you the morning and good night kisses, but…”

  “But what? It’s only a bed, Clarice. How tough is it to share a bed? I’m not going to attack you. If you’re so afraid of me jumping on you, we can just use that body pillow there to separate us? Happy?”

  Clarice wasn’t worried about Hunter jumping on her. She was more afraid of herself jumping on him. Chewing her lip, she contemplated this possibility. Deciding she wouldn’t know if she didn’t try, she nodded.

  “Fine. But you must promise.” Clarice finally gave in.

  “I promise.” Hunter nodded.

  “Pinky swear on it, then.” Clarice held out her little pinky finger.

  “My God, Clarice. What are you, a kid? Only kids do pinky swear.” Hunter turned away again.

  “I don’t care. Let’s do a pinky swear,” she pushed.

  “Fine.” Hunter finally relented.

  They both laced their little fingers together.

  “Now, for my good night mouthwatering kiss.” Hunter smirked like the devil had finally come out of that impassive face.

  Clarice blinked, shrinking back into the blankets, not sure if she’d unleashed the devil from hell. “But I thought I’d given you one already. Just now. You don’t remembe
r?”

  “What, that?” Hunter laughed. “The one where I almost died due to suffocation?”

  Clarice nodded meekly.

  “Baby, that was an amateur kiss. That wasn’t a mouthwatering kiss.”

  “So what are you proposing, then?”

  “I’m proposing that I kiss you properly. The mouthwatering type.”

  “Okay, fine.” Clarice pouted her lips forward, waiting. “I’m ready.”

  It was so sensual, so toe-curling when Hunter’s lips touched hers that she almost floated out of her body. Dear heaven, this was it. This was her antidote. This was what she’d planned from the beginning. Hunter had finally fallen into her trap. What she wanted was his forgiveness, but more than anything, she needed her antidote. And she didn’t think she could ever survive again without that type of kiss before bed.

  “How was that?” Hunter asked, his voice shaking with so much emotion.

  “Amazing.” Clarice spoke in a spellbound haze.

  “Glad to be of service. Now I’ll just go and get my pillow from downstairs and I’ll be up in a jiffy, baby. You just wait for me. Don’t go to sleep yet.”

  Clarice was in a daze. She tucked herself under the blankets and exhaled slowly. She placed a hand on her chest, feeling her heart thumping really fast.

  Clarice smiled. Inside she was happy and overjoyed that she’d gained Hunter’s forgiveness. Not only that, but she’d also been served her antidote. Yes, Hunter’s good night kiss was her antidote, an antidote that would stop her from pouncing on him. Smiling, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep, not registering that Hunter would be coming back to sleep with her later.

  Unbeknownst to Clarice, Hunter stood outside her door, grinning like an idiot. He was so absorbed in his own wicked thoughts that only his phone ringing jerked him back to reality.

  “Hunter speaking,” he snapped into the phone, annoyed at the interruption.

  “Hunter, next time, if you want to play mad with Clarice, go to your own apartment. I don’t have time to hide you here,” his cousin shouted through the phone.

  Hunter could only chuckle and reply in his playful tone. “Is that because someone is lonely because so-and-so wasn’t here to entertain you?”