In His Arms

Chapter 3

Replacing the baby in the stroller with much reluctance, I straighten up to face Mr Holt, my heart pounding a mile a minute as he just stares at me with his emotionless grey eyes. I let my eyes wander on their own, looking past his appearance to assess his shopping basket which holds process baby food...more processed baby food...a box of baby crackers...more processed stuff...a milk...geriatric milk....wait, what?

"Is all that for him?" I ask softly in shock at how limited his knowledge towards infant care is and this is just my assumption through him calling his son an 'it' and his choice in baby groceries. "The geriatric milk?"

For a split second, I see a flash of confusion ignite in his eyes before he hides it by replacing it with a neutral look, countering, "No, the milk is for my housekeeper."

Taking it out of his shopping basket despite declaring that it was for his housekeeper, I shake my head in silent amusement as his cheeks turn a light pink. Pushing the stroller forward after some deep thought, I pass him my basket.

"I'll help you," I propose softly, my cheeks heating up a little at how bold I'm being, walking forward. "But first, we're going to have to put all that processed stuff back. Babies can't eat that much pre-made stuff."

Hoping in my mind that he'd actually follow after me, I breathe a huge sigh of relief when I hear the soft clicking of his business shoes behind me. Thank goodness...The embarrassment if he didn't follow after me it would have haunted me for the rest of my life.

Fifteen minutes into picking out different baby products off the shelves and passing them to him, I begin to wonder how I always put myself into awkward situations like this one, you know helping out others even when you shouldn't be helping them, in all honesty, I was just thinking of crashing into bed and sleeping the weekend away but as usual, nothing ever goes to plan, at least for me.

Going on my tip toes while reaching for a tin of milk powder situated on the top shelf that's meant for one to three-month-olds, I pause, for a minute turning to Mr Holt just as he begins to examine a packet of carrots I had put into his basket, asking curiously, "How old is your son?"

"Three months," He replies instantly, continuing to examine the carrots comparing it to a bottle of the processed baby food from the shelf in front of him. "I think."

Sighing softly, I silently take the packet of carrots out of his hand, replacing it with a tin of baby milk powder that has an age range of two to three months, deciding that we should hurry things along I end up passing him a few more things as we complete the entire aisle heading towards the cash register.

With me pushing the stroller out into the street and Mr Holt holding our grocery bags, neither of us says anything more to each other as we walk up to a sleek Audi A4 parked on the sidewalk next to a parking meter, which stops me in my tracks. Well, isn't this is a good reminder to myself that he's richer than Croesus? Jumping slightly when he pops open the boot, Mr Holt neatly places paper bags inside.

"Um...this should last you through the weekend...and probably the start of the week as well," I murmur casually as he packs away the stroller, his baby sleeping soundly on my shoulder. "I'll just put this little guy into the car and I'll be on my way..."

Opening the backseat door, I freeze when I don't see a baby car seat...he does have a baby car seat, right? Closing the door with my bum, I open the passenger seat, internally hoping that there is a car seat but to my surprise, there isn't one.

"Mr Holt, where's your car seat?" I ask, my voice higher than usual as he shuts the boot. "I don't think he can sit on a chair this large yet..."

Rubbing his lower lip with his index finger in thought, he replies, "I never invested in one. Usually, I just lay it on the seat and put the seatbelt on it."