Page 84

Chapter forty-four

Cecilia

Note to self: Never leave Silas unattended in a store.

~ The Next Day ~

Yesterday was amazing. Silas is the most thoughtful man I’ve ever met. He takes such good care of me and all my needs, even the ones I don’t realize I have. I can’t wait to see him with our son. Our baby is going to be so lucky to have him as a dad.

I’m so lucky.

The cabinet he put up in our room was a beautiful surprise, but the tattoo. The tattoo was everything. My heart nearly burst out of my chest when I saw it. It’s so simple yet holds so much meaning between the lines.

Today, Silas has the day off. He only had on-ice practice this morning, but now we have the rest of the day to ourselves. So we decided we would get the nursery painted and set up, which is why we’re on our way to the hardware store to get the paint we need.

“What colors are you thinking?” Sy questions from the driver’s seat.

“Hmm, how about red, blue, and white? I mean, everything in his room will be hockey themed. Why not make the walls the team’s colors?” I ask him, knowing he’ll like the idea.

“I love it. Let’s do it.” He smiles gleefully, excitement radiating through his pores.

We arrive at the store a few minutes later and head to the paint aisle. After selecting our colors, Silas grabs three paint cans that are safer for pregnant women. Yes, he spent all night researching if I could paint and which were safest for me.

Originally, we’d planned on hiring someone to do the room, but then thought it would be a fun activity to do together. So we’re tackling everything ourselves, and Morgan already offered to fix it if we mess it up.

He sets them down on the service counter that seems deserted. “Wait here, I’ll go find someone to help us.” Silas leaves my side and wanders off, returning a few minutes later alone. “They said they’ll call someone over. Shouldn’t be long.”

After twenty minutes of waiting and Silas going back to get help, we’re still no further in getting our paint mixed, and my husband is getting antsy.

“What the hell is taking so long? Does no one work here?” he says, irritated as he paces back and forth. He walks up to the huge industrial paint shaker and starts looking around.

“What are you doing?”

“It can’t be that hard to operate this thing. Clearly, no one is coming to help us, so, might as well do it ourselves.” He bends down and opens a cabinet door. “AHA!” he exclaims and retrieves what looks like a manual, then opens it up and looks through the guide.

“Silas, this is a bad idea. You don’t know what you’re doing.” I start looking around, hoping someone is on their way before my husband does something crazy, like actually try to do it himself. He’s right though, it shouldn’t take this long to get help.

“Don’t worry, baby. Most of the employees here are teenagers. If they can do it, I’m pretty sure a grown man can get it done, too.”

He goes to the side of the machine where a computer sits, then opens one can and places it under a machine that will dispense the color. He looks at the colors we chose, then the book, and begins to tap on the keyboard, probably entering in some codes.

“Silas, stop! You’re going to break the machine!” I say through gritted teeth in a whispered shout.

“No, I got this. See? It’s all set and already putting in the paint color.”

I start nervously tapping my foot, still looking around, then back at Silas. Oh God, this is such a bad idea. He grabs the paint can once the computer tells him it’s done and places the lid back on, then brings it over to the shaking machine.

This one seems a little different than those I’ve seen in the past. Instead of it shaking the can up and down, it has an open slot that you place the can in on an angle, and I’m guessing it’s going to rotate it or something. I’m not sure.

Silas places the can in, closes the door, and presses some buttons at the top to get the machine going. I look nervously as it starts to spin while getting this bad feeling in my gut. “Did you tap the lid back into place properly?”

Silas scoffs like my question is ridiculous. “Of course, I did. I’m not an amateur, Minnie.” He shakes his head at me.

A big pang sounds from within the machine, and we both look at it with fear. “What did you do!?” I hiss at him .

“I didn’t do anything! I followed the instructions!”

We both continue to stare at the machine, but since the lid is closed, we can’t see inside. Suddenly, blue paint starts to seep out from the cracks in the doors and leaks down to the floor.

“OH MY GOD, SILAS! Do something!”

I rush over to the machine, trying to collect the paint with my hands. As if that’s going to help. Silas does the same from the other side. It’s a moment of panic, we both have no idea what to do.

“Stop the machine! Silas, turn it off!” I yell, my voice laced with anxiety. I’m getting paint everywhere with my hands. This is a mess!

Silas leaves his post and looks at the buttons on the top for a second, then presses something, and we hear the sound of the machine dying down. I slide down to the floor against the machine, aware that I’m getting blue paint all over my clothes.

Sy comes to my side and drops beside me. “So I guess I forgot to close the can properly...” He chuckles and scratches his head.

“You guess!?” I glare at him, showing my paint-colored hands.

We hear a throat clear from beside us and both look up. Two employees and what looks like a manager stare at the mess, looking not so happy. Oopsie...

Silas clears his throat. “We’ll make a sizable donation to the store.”

“Mhmm,” the manager-looking guy hums, then turns and walks away, instructing the other two to clean up the mess. Since it’s going to take them a while to clean up, we leave the store empty-handed with a mini dent in our wallet.

When we arrive at the car, Silas places me inside and buckles me up, kissing my nose before heading to the driver’s seat.

“I think we should get Morg to do the room. I don’t think painting is in our future,” I say, giggling.

“You’re probably right.” He smiles and cups the back of my head, stroking my hair tenderly. “Come on, Smurfette. Let’s go home.”