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Up until now, we still hadn’t talked about what our lives would look like moving forward. Even though the baby was barely the size of a plum, according to my pregnancy app, it was still such a huge part of our lives. A part we hadn’t brought ourselves to discuss much yet. I wondered if we would brave that conversation now.
“Let’s get brunch,” said Daniel, kissing my forehead.
I guess not now.
“Okay,” I replied.
I peeled the sheets off of me and padded to my closet to get dressed. I heard Daniel whistle behind me. When I turned, he was sitting up in bed, staring at me with a grin on his face. I shook my head at him before stepping into my closet. I slid on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. “Do you have anything that would fit me?” Daniel called out in amusement.
“Are you serious?” I asked, peeking around the closet door.
“I think a black suit might be a little much for brunch in Brooklyn.”
“True.”
I dug through my dresser drawers and found a pair of oversized sweats and a baggy Yankees shirt. I walked over to the bed, holding them up. He took them from me and rolled out of bed, his strong, naked body on display before me. I swallowed hard as I admired him, his back to me.
He slid on the sweats, which were snug and came up past his ankles. I stifled a giggle as he slid the shirt over his head. That was a much better fit, but still a little snug. He turned and looked at me, holding his hands out.
“Well?” he asked, doing a turn.
“You look ridiculous,” I said.
He laughed out loud as he ran a hand through his unruly bedhead.
“Here, let me get you a hat or something.”
I walked back in my closet and pulled down a baseball cap, loosening the strap to the biggest size. I handed it to him and he tugged it over his head. I had never seen him in anything besides a suit. Despite the ill-fitting clothes, casual looked good on him. Then again, anything would.
“Thanks,” he said, leaning in and giving me a kiss on the cheek.
After we washed up in the bathroom, me brushing my teeth and Daniel gargling some mouthwash, we headed outside to the busy sidewalks of Brooklyn on a Saturday morning. We decided to walk to brunch, which was something I assumed he didn’t do often, given he had Armand to drive him around. Poor Armand. I didn’t think I could ever face him again.
We walked hand-in-hand down several blocks, a comfortable silence between us. I noticed him taking in the different buildings and sights. Now and then, I would point out a few of my favorite places, even though, deep down, I knew they would probably never compare to what he was used to.
Eventually, we made it to one of my favorite brunch places. Buttermilk Channel. Of course, there was a line out the door, but Daniel said he didn’t mind waiting. In line, I noticed a few people glance in our direction. I wasn’t sure if it was because they recognized him or if it was the sweatpants. Either way, I could tell it made Daniel shift uncomfortably. He pulled his hat lower on his head and kept his back to the crowd.
Was he afraid to be seen with me? I thought back to all the tabloids I had seen. He was photographed confidently with a woman on his arm. Even smiling for the cameras sometimes. I chewed on my cheek as I wondered why I wasn’t good enough to be seen with him. Maybe it was because I wasn’t a supermodel or someone like Kiera.
Between now and us sneaking out of the back door of the theater last night, I was starting to feel like his dirty little secret.
Chapter 24
Daniel
After a thirty-minute wait, Heart and I were seated at a table by the window overlooking the busy sidewalk outside. I didn’t mind waiting. I enjoyed people-watching. Brooklyn was a whole other vibe. Laid back and cool.
I liked experiencing it with Heart. I also liked that I was able to call her that now. Another challenge I had given myself was accomplished, and this one was the most important yet. This meant she trusted me. At least, I hoped she did.
The restaurant was filled with smells of maple syrup and pancake batter, and then my stomach was grumbling. I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable in the too tight of sweatpants Addison had lent me. I second-guessed if this was a good choice as the cotton chafed against me.
“You okay over there?” asked Heart, shooting me an amused look.
“Just fine,” I lied.
“I bet your suit sounds real nice right about now.” She laughed.
It did. Especially since it was custom made to me by my trusty tailor on Fifth Avenue. But I didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb on a Saturday morning in Brooklyn. Everyone around us was dressed down. I would have been the guy in the suit at a pancake breakfast.