Chapter 47
By the time the words "yes" left Vi's lips, Mack was already making plans in his head. Not hours later, he was standing in her apartment doorway like a storm, sleeves rolled up, determination written all over him.
"Okay, sweetheart," he said, clapping his hands together. "Point me to the boxes. We're getting you packed."
Vi blinked at him. "You're seriously doing this now? Today?"
"Damn right, today. Before you change your mind," Mack grinned, grabbing one of her throw pillows and tossing it dramatically into a suitcase.
She laughed, shaking her head. "That's not even how packing works."
"Details," he said, crouching to fold her books into a box. Only… he didn't fold. He stacked them like bricks. Sideways. Upside down. Chaos.
"Stop, stop!" Vi laughed so hard her stomach hurt. "You can't just throw my books in like firewood."
Mack shot her a wicked look. "You think I don't know what I'm doing? I'm a grown man." He shoved another book in upside down.
She marched over, grabbed it out of his hands, and smacked him on the shoulder with it. "You're hopeless."
"Hopelessly in love with you," he smirked.
Her cheeks flushed, but she turned away quickly, mumbling, "Cheater. Using romance to win an argument."
Just then, Sam waddled into the room with a mischievous grin, balancing a bag of snacks on her round belly. "I love this chaos. But while you two are playing house, remember someone very pregnant also needs help getting baby things."
Mack glanced at Sam like a man handed another mission. "Say less. After we pack this one up, we're hitting the store. Car seats, tiny socks, whatever you need. Vi's moving in with me, and you're getting spoiled. Everyone wins."
Vi raised an eyebrow. "You realize you're terrifying the salespeople, right? You walking into Baby World looking like you're about to buy the entire store."
Sam burst out laughing. "Oh my God, yes. Picture it: Mack in the diaper aisle, scaring moms while comparing stroller wheels."
Mack smirked. "Laugh it up. But I guarantee you I'm walking out with the best damn stroller in the country."
Later, that's exactly what happened. At the baby store, Mack prowled through the aisles like he was casing a high-security vault.
"This car seat doesn't look safe enough," he muttered, frowning.
"That one folds too slow."
"Who the hell designed these baby bottles? They look like science experiments."
Vi and Sam trailed behind him, laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
"Mack, relax," Vi teased, nudging him. "You're not buying a tank. You're buying a crib."
Mack grunted. "Same thing. Needs to be indestructible."
By the time they left, Sam had more baby gear than she knew what to do with, Vi's apartment was halfway packed, and Mack looked smug as hell.
Back at his place, Vi stood in the middle of the spacious living room, boxes piled around her. For a moment, her chest tightened — this was real.
Mack stepped behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, his voice low in her ear. "Welcome home, sweetheart."
The baby store was supposed to be simple. A crib, some onesies, maybe a pack of diapers. But nothing was ever simple with Mack.
He stalked through the aisles like a man on a mission, eyes sharp, muscles tense. Vi and Sam exchanged a look, already bracing for trouble.
It started in the stroller section. Mack crouched low, testing the wheels on one of the displays. He shoved it forward with a grunt, then yanked it back, his brows furrowed.
"Cheap wheels," he muttered. "This thing wouldn't survive a cracked sidewalk. What idiot designed this?"
Another man, about Mack's size, appeared at the next stroller. He gave Mack a once-over, then pushed his stroller demo forward with a flourish. "Actually, this model is the best on the market. Suspension system, top safety rating. You won't find better."
Mack's head snapped up. "That piece of junk?"
The guy puffed out his chest. "I've done my research. My wife and I tested every brand. This is the one."
Mack stood, arms crossed, towering over him. "I don't care what you tested. That stroller folds slower than a drunk sloth. No way I'm putting Sam's baby in that death trap."
Vi clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. Sam, on the other hand, leaned against a shelf and said dryly, "Oh boy. Here we go."
The other dad squared up. "Death trap? Buddy, this stroller could take a meteor hit."
Mack's jaw ticked. "You wanna test that theory?"
Suddenly the two men were side by side, rolling their chosen strollers down the aisle like they were drag-racing.
"Mine's smoother," the dad insisted.
"Mine's sturdier," Mack shot back.
"Yours looks like a shopping cart."
"Yours looks like a folding chair with wheels."
Vi completely lost it, doubled over with laughter. "You two sound like toddlers arguing over toy cars!"
A store clerk rushed over, eyes wide. "Gentlemen, please! No stroller races inside!"
Mack immediately stopped, straightening with mock innocence. "Just comparing durability." He gave his chosen stroller a sharp shake. It didn't budge. Mack smirked. "See? Solid."
The other dad muttered something under his breath and stormed off, his wife dragging him by the arm.
Vi, still giggling, leaned close to Mack. "You just scared off another father."
Mack shrugged, pushing his chosen stroller like a victor. "Good. I don't compete. I win."
Sam wheezed with laughter. "You are never living this down."