Chapter 48
By the time they reached the registers, Mack's cart looked like he was preparing for triplets—or a small army of infants.
Two strollers.
Three different diaper brands ("We're testing durability, Vi.").
Six swaddles in various fabrics.
An entire wall's worth of baby bottles.
And—Vi's favorite—a miniature baby leather jacket that Mack had tossed in without explanation.
Sam groaned, rubbing her belly. "Mack, I'm pregnant, not opening a daycare."
Mack grunted, shoving the cart forward. "Your baby deserves the best. And backups for the best. And backups for the backups."
Vi pinched the bridge of her nose, torn between laughter and despair. "You bought four baby monitors. FOUR. Do you think the kid is going to escape through the window?"
Mack deadpanned, "If it takes after me? Yes."
Sam burst out laughing so hard she had to lean against the counter for support. "Oh my god, he's serious!"
The cashier, poor soul, just kept scanning items with wide eyes, the pile growing higher and higher.
That's when Vi and Sam snapped into action.
Vi grabbed a pack of bottles off the counter. "Nope, too many. We're putting these back."
Sam snagged one of the strollers. "I'll keep ONE, Mack. Not two. This isn't NASCAR."
Mack tried to protest, but Vi fixed him with a glare so sharp it could cut glass. "Mack. Walk away from the baby lotion."
He froze mid-reach, hand hovering over a pastel bottle. Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered it.
Sam wheezed through her laughter. "You act like you're equipping a Navy SEAL baby."
Mack just smirked. "Exactly. Prepared. Protected. Unstoppable."
Vi and Sam exchanged a look, then each grabbed one of his arms and dragged him out of the store before he could sneak anything else into the cart.
As they hauled him toward the exit, Vi muttered under her breath, still half-laughing, half-exasperated. "You are never, EVER shopping unsupervised again."
Mack only looked smug. "Fine. But the kid's gonna thank me one day."
Sam snorted. "Yeah, when it's old enough to drive its own stroller."
Mack was driving like the world had betrayed him—jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel a little too firmly, silence thick in the car.
Vi leaned against the window, fighting not to laugh at the overgrown sulking man beside her. Sam sat in the back, practically glowing with smugness.
"You know," Sam started sweetly, "for someone who's supposed to be the big, tough Mack, you sure pout a lot when your toys get taken away."
Mack's glare flicked to the rearview mirror. "They weren't toys. They were necessities."
Vi snorted. "A baby leather jacket, Mack. Really? What necessity was that filling?"
Without missing a beat, he muttered, "Style. Survival. Respect."
Vi laughed so hard she had to clutch her stomach. Sam joined in, wiping tears from her eyes.
"You bought four baby monitors!" Sam reminded him. "What did you think the baby was going to do—launch a prison break?"
Mack shrugged, still brooding. "Better safe than sorry. What if one fails?"
Vi poked his arm, her voice teasing. "Mhm. And the second one? And the third one? And the fourth?"
Silence.
Finally, Mack sighed dramatically, like the world just didn't understand him. "Fine. But when your baby sneaks out to join a biker gang at six months old, don't come crying to me."
That did it—Vi and Sam completely lost it, doubled over in laughter.
Sam wiped her eyes. "Mack, you're ridiculous."
Vi leaned closer, smirking at him. "You're adorable when you're mad."
Mack cut his eyes at her, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. "I'm not mad. I'm disappointed. There's a difference."
Vi leaned back, still grinning. "Well, Dad, maybe next time you'll let the actual mom decide what's necessary."
Sam chimed in from the back. "Amen!"
Mack just grunted, but when Vi glanced sideways at him, she caught the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips.
He wasn't fooling anyone. Mack pulled up in front of Sam's place, still brooding like a kicked puppy. The backseat was piled with bags—half of them things Sam actually needed, the other half things Mack had tried to sneak in before Vi caught him.
Sam leaned forward between the seats, grinning.
"Thanks for playing chauffeur, Mack. And for… you know, not buying the baby a motorcycle helmet."
Mack's jaw ticked. "It was safety gear. Totally different."
Vi smirked, giving Sam a wink. "Ignore him. We'll keep him away from the credit card next time."
Sam laughed as she got out, struggling with the bags. "Good luck with that. Night, lovebirds."
Mack muttered something under his breath, but Vi caught the twitch of a smile he was trying to hide.
The Ride Back
The car grew quiet once it was just the two of them. Mack's hand rested lazily on the gearshift, fingers tapping, his usual calm returning. Vi glanced at him from the corner of her eye, biting back a grin.
"You know," she said softly, "you were kind of cute back there."
Mack's head turned, one brow lifting. "Cute?"
"Yeah. Pouting over baby jackets and arguing with that dad in the stroller aisle." Her lips curved, teasing. "I've never seen you so… flustered."
He scoffed, but his ears went faintly red. "I wasn't flustered. I was defending my point."
Vi laughed, leaning a little closer. "Mhm. Sure. And now you're sulking because we didn't let you buy four baby monitors."
Mack cut her a look, but his mouth betrayed him—fighting against a smirk.
"You'll regret it when that kid starts crawling through vents like a little ninja."
Vi laughed so hard her head fell back against the seat. She shook her head, grinning at him. "God, you're ridiculous."
His hand slid from the gearshift to her thigh, warm and steady. His voice dropped, serious now.
"Maybe. But you're smiling. That's all I care about."
Her heart fluttered at the sudden shift, at the way his touch grounded her. For a second, she forgot the teasing, the bickering, everything else.
And she realized… being with him felt a lot like home.
He carried her straight to the kitchen and set her down on the counter like she belonged there. She crossed her legs, looking at him with a half-smile.
"You know, I was planning to cook. Not… whatever this is."
Mack rolled his sleeves up, moving around her kitchen like he owned the space. "Oh, we're still cooking. Just… maybe a little differently."
He grabbed a pan, then leaned in close enough for his beard to brush her jaw.
"Pasta sound good? Or should I just feed you dessert straight out of the bowl?"
Vi's lips curved into a smirk. "Depends. Are you the dessert?"
His laugh was low, deep, vibrating through her. He set the pan down and stepped between her knees, his hands braced on either side of her hips on the counter.
"Careful, little writer," he murmured, his mouth hovering just a breath away from hers. "I'll take that challenge."
Vi's pulse quickened, her fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of his shirt. The kitchen was warm, smelling faintly of garlic and tomatoes from the groceries she'd left earlier—but all she could focus on was him.
Mack's hands slid around her waist, pressing her closer until her back was flush against the cool kitchen counter. His mouth hovered near her ear, voice low and teasing.
"Hands on the counter," he murmured, and when she obeyed, he bent her slightly forward, fingers digging just enough to make her shiver.
Vi's breath hitched, the heat pooling low in her belly. "M-Mack…" she whispered, half warning, half invitation.
"I don't need permission," he said, his lips brushing along the shell of her ear, then down her neck. "I just want you."
Her fingers gripped the counter as he leaned in, slow and deliberate, every touch igniting fire along her skin. He pressed against her from behind, teasing, testing, making her knees weak.
"Feels like… I've been waiting for this forever," Mack murmured, lips grazing her shoulder. "Every second you're mine, I want more."
Vi moaned softly, hips instinctively pressing back against him. She could feel every inch, every muscle, every heat-filled intention. Her head fell forward slightly, hair brushing the counter, as he traced his hands over her curves with reverence and desire.
"God…" she gasped, tilting her head. "I… I can't—"
"Shh," he whispered, cutting her off with a teasing nip at her neck. "Just feel. Just this."
Mack's hands roamed deliberately, sliding over the curve of her hips, up her back, grazing just enough to make her shiver, then dipping lower to press against her more intimately. Every touch was measured, teasing, making her ache for more.
"You feel… unreal," he murmured against her ear, his lips trailing fire along her neck. "Like I could lose myself in you and never want to find my way out."
Viola's breath hitched. Her fingers dug into the counter, trying to ground herself as heat pooled low, every nerve screaming for him. "M-Mack… please…" she whispered, voice trembling with need.
"Please what?" he teased, pressing closer, his hands skilled and relentless. "Say it."
"I… I need you," she confessed, her body arching back slightly into his, responding to every touch.
He groaned, a deep, low sound that vibrated through her. "That's more like it." His lips moved lower, pressing along her shoulder and side, trailing fire with every kiss. His hands continued to map her curves, teasing, pleasing, coaxing moans from her lips.
Vi's head fell forward, hair brushing the counter, as he bent slightly behind her, pressing his body fully against hers. The teasing became more insistent, more heated, every touch designed to drive her wild.
"You're mine," he murmured, voice low and possessive, lips brushing her ear. "Every inch, every sound—you're mine."
She gasped, hips shifting instinctively into him, pressing back as he drove her higher with every motion. The teasing, the heat, the way he worshipped her body—it all built an unstoppable tension until she could barely think, only feel.
Mack's hands gripped her hips, pressing her more firmly, lips descending to her neck, collarbone, every kiss leaving a trail of fire. "Tell me you want me," he demanded softly, and she couldn't resist.
"I want you… all of you," she breathed, voice shaking, eyes closed.
"Good," he whispered, a slow, satisfied smirk in his tone. "Because I'm not stopping until I've shown you exactly how much you're mine."