Page 48 of Laced With Secrets

Beside me, Dominic pressed his palm into the surface, apparently checking “the resistance” and “depth of compression.”

His brow furrowed slightly as he assessed the surface. “Seems to a have a bit too much give,” he murmured.

“I like the plushness,” I countered, wiggling deeper into the cushiony top.

His lips twitched as I launched myself onto a pillow-top, though he tried to maintain his serious expression while inspecting theedge support. When I bounced on a particularly springy model, the corner of his mouth finally betrayed him, curving upward despite his best efforts.

“This one,” I declared, sprawled starfish-style on a pillow-top king. “This is the one.”

“You said that about the last three.”

“This time I mean it.”

Dominic sat on the edge, bouncing slightly to test the springs. “It’s good. Firm enough for support, soft enough on top.” His hand found my ankle, squeezing. “We’ll take it.”

We moved through the store, picking out nightstands, a dresser, debating the merits of various sofas for the living room. Dominic had opinions about everything—the wood grain, the drawer construction, the fabric durability—and I found myself content to let him take the lead, occasionally vetoing his more utilitarian choices in favor of something with more character.

“The nursery,” I said as we passed a display of children’s furniture. “We should look.”

Something shifted in Dominic’s expression—a softening, a warmth. “Yeah. We should.”

We wandered through cribs and changing tables, and I tried to imagine our baby sleeping in one of these.

Our baby.Ourpup.

The reality of it still hit me at unexpected moments.

“We have time,” Dominic said quietly, reading something in my expression. “We don’t have to decide everything today.”

“I know.” I touched the rail of a white crib with clean lines. “I just want to get it right.”

“We will.” His hand found my lower back. “We’ve managed to get a lot right so far.”

We moved on, past dining sets and office furniture, and that’s when I sawit.

Itwas tucked in a corner of the store, a massive bean bag chair—easily six feet across, covered in plush charcoal fabric, designed to look like a nest. The sides curved up slightly, creating a cocoon-like shape that something deep and instinctual in me responded to immediately.

I stopped walking.

Dominic noticed. Of course he noticed.

“Leo?”

“Nothing.” I forced myself to keep moving. “Penny would love that.”

“The bean bag?”

“It’s very him.” I glanced back at it despite myself. “All cozy and yet somehow still fabulous.”

Dominic studied my face with that penetrating gaze that always saw too much. “Try it.”

“What? No. We’re here for real furniture.”

“Try it,” he repeated, steering me toward it with a hand on my back.

“Dominic—”

“Penny would want you too. He’d probably demand it.”