Simon laughs. “No and yes. It’s not awful, but I like to think it’s a family name of sorts.”
“You’re a fucking wreck.” Nick looks genuinely horrified and my curiosity is piqued. “Is Elaine actually going to let you do this?”
“She sure is. God, I love her.”
“What? What the hell?” Molly looks like she’s about to choke Simon if he doesn’t ‘fess up.
“Sky.” He smiles.
“Sky? Your kid’s middle name is going to be Sky? Like the blue sky above? That’s pretty hippy dippy for you, Wonderboy.”
He rolls his eyes as Nick explains, “Think about it, Molly. No matter what Lainie picks, Simon’s kid’s name will end in Sky Walker.”
“Hey, do you mind if we swing by Drip on the way back? I want to get some of their peppermint tea for Elaine.”
“Yea, that works for me. I could go for some coffee. And… I have a proposition for you.”
“Do you now?” I ask saucily, as I pull out of the lot and onto the street. “Perhaps tea and coffee can wait?”
“Oh, I have every intention of fucking you against the Goddamn door when we get back to your place,” he says. “But first, shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“Yep.”
“You want to go shopping?”
“Yep.”
“What brought this on, Mr. I-wear-suits-and-work-out-clothes-only?” I throw him a side-eye when we stop at the red light. Though, honestly, he looks pretty damn good in those trousers and that button-down.
“It has occurred to me that some occasions call for casual clothing.”
“What I’m hearing is that you’re going to let me pick out your jeans.”
“And t-shirts. Also sweaters. Possibly a hoodie. Who knows what the day will bring?”
I’m giddy at the prospect of all this shopping. “And shoes. Those Italian loafers are gorgeous, but they don’t go with hoodies.”
“Agreed. So, where’s a good place to start? I saw a men’s clothing store downtown. And there was that beachy looking shop, no doubt a virtual hoodie haven.”
“I’ll park in the lot on Eisenhower, and we can start with jeans.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He smiles, and though I can’t wait for our sexy times later, I’m excited to spend the rest of the day with him, doing something as normal as clothes shopping. It’s a weird feeling for me, I must admit. Usually, in relationships, I’d go shopping with a guy because he needed new clothes, and needed me to pay for them. But with, Ev, so much is different. I just like spending time with him, and I love that he doesn’t need me to take care of him—he just needs me.
We find a few great fitting pairs of jeans at the first store, then head to the surf shop for tees and a zip up hoodie. I’ll be honest, Ev is straight up sex in a custom-tailored suit. But casual, scruff-bearded, weekend Ev in jeans that mold to his ass and a sweatshirt so soft I want to curl up in it? Do I want that? Yes, please.
An hour later, he’s found shoes and is currently devoting a bizarre amount of time to sock selection.
“I’m gonna head down to Drip before they close. They’re just down the block on the corner. Be back in twenty or so. And promise me I won’t return to see you debating over the same two pairs of socks.”
He holds out his pinky. “Promise. I’ll probably be over in women’s lingerie.”
I bark out a laugh at his deadpan statement.
“Seriously.” He eyes me for a minute, as though he’s calculating. “36DD?”
“Jesus. Are you a bra-size savant?”
