Sweet Spot for Victoria (Men of Baseball Book 4) (13 page)

“Love you more than words could ever express, Victoria,” he exhales, before pressing his lips to mine. The elevator door rings and we step out and to our car.

“We’re going to need a bigger car,” Carlos mutters. I laugh as I slide into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, and a house, too,” I throw out, my eyes intently watching Carlos’ expression. He shrugs.

“Then we start looking for a bigger place,” he says. I gape at him a little more, my mouth hanging wide open.

“
Los
,” I gasp.

“Babe, we have two more people joining our family. We’ve stayed in that apartment since I signed my first contract. It’s time we upgrade to a family home. We’re a family of six now. Shit’s gonna be expensive, but that’s okay. I get it—we have to spend money, and we have to upgrade some of our shit. Also, you need help,” he says as he drives toward Madison Avenue.

“Mama called and set up three interviews with housekeepers,” I explain as I look up in shock when he parks in front of my favorite maternity store,
A Pea in the Pod
.

“Good. Okay, let’s shop,” he grins, melting my panties –
again
.

We walk hand-in-hand through the front door of the store. It is full of about five women shopping and two at the counter, and I swear I hear more than one person moan. Their eyes are focused on my husband and I think one other girl drools a little. I mean, Carlos is hot, but
sweet Jesus,
he isn’t
that
hot.

“H-how may I help you,” a young girl asks, sliding up to us, her eyes and question focused on Carlos, not me.

“My wife needs some maternity clothes,” he says shifting from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable.

I’d help him out but this little girl is swooning all over him and I find it kind of comical.

“That is so sweet,” she squeals. I watch Carlos flinch at her too high pitched voice.

“How far along is she?” she asks him
. Okay, now I’m annoyed.

“I’m not too far along, but we’re having twins,” I say.

She jerks her body back before she turns to look at me. I honestly don’t think she knew I was here until now. I roll my eyes, telling her that I’m going to look around, and drag Carlos with me.

“I should have just given you money,” Carlos murmurs after I come out of the dressing room with a pair of skinny jeans and a tank top.

Spring and summer are coming and I’ll need to be cool. I look at myself in the mirror, wishing I would have kept all my maternity clothes from Carlos Jr., I had some super cute shit.

“Probably, but you’re stuck with me now. You promised,” I point out.

“Yeah, those jeans are too tight,
hermosa
,” he barks, making me jump.

“They’re skinny jeans, they are supposed to be tight,” I say, turning around to look at my already fatter ass.

“I can see everything, which means every other man will see everything,” he says. I blink.

Carlos has never once mentioned my clothes or how I dress, unless it’s to grab my ass and promise to do dirty things with it later. He surprises me; shocks me, actually.

“It’s like everything else I wear, Los. Why are you suddenly unhappy with how I dress?”

“Because, you’re carrying my babies and I don’t want anyone looking at you,” he states, as if he’s making perfect sense.

Maybe in Macho-land-USA, where he mentally resides, it does make perfect sense.

“So what do
you
want me to wear, Los?” I ask bitchily.

“Something…” he stands up and walks over to a dress, grabbing it, and bringing it back to me. “Like this,” he says, shoving it at me.

I take the dress in my hands and hold it up. First off, it’s purple, I loathe purple. Secondly, it’s about five sizes too big. Thirdly, it looks like a gigantic square. It’s hideous.

“Carlos, this is the ugliest dress I have ever seen,” I say, uncaring who hears me. It’s fucking horrible.

“Fine, wear something that will have all the dicks in a ten mile radius hard, then,” he says, folding his arms over his chest with a huff. I blink. He’s irrational, totally and completely irrational.

I narrow my eyes on him for a moment before I go back to my dressing room, completely ignoring his little rant. Maybe he’s having hormonal outburst because of my pregnancy; maybe he has sympathy pregnancy symptoms? He’s surely acting crazy enough.

I slip the tight skinny jeans down my legs and fold them, placing them in my
to-buy
pile, then do the same with the tank. I decide to buy the tank in a few different colors and sizes so that I have it as a basic piece as I grow.

The door to the dressing room flies open and I squeak as I turn to find Carlos standing in the doorway. I watch him without saying a word as he closes and locks the door behind him. It feels cliché, him being in the room with me, and yet it turns me on all at the same time.

“You’re going to buy the fuckin’ pants anyway, aren’t you, my little
Chile Pepper
?” he asks arching a brow at me.

“You have known me over half of your life, what do you think?” I reply sarcastically.

Carlos wraps his hand around my waist and roughly pulls me into his chest, forcing my body to collide with his.

“I think you’re a total bitch, and a pain in my ass. I think I couldn’t live without you. Buy the fucking pants, give me heartburn, do whatever the fuck you want. You’re going to anyway,” he grunts. I smile widely before taking his lips with mine.

“You’re a pain in the ass too, Los,” I tell him.

“Yeah, I’m a pain in your perfect fuckin’ ass, is what I am. Gonna need to take that ass of yours soon,
morenita
.”

“Excuse me, are you doing all right? Do you need anything?” the annoying sales girl asks, knocking on the door.

“We’re good, thank you,” Carlos calls out. I narrow my eyes at him.

“She knew we were in here together,
hermosa
, grab the shit you want and let’s go. I want to feed my baby mama.” He smacks my ass before leaving the dressing room and I giggle like a fucking school girl.

Jesus, I’m sounding like Maggie and Amalie.

Giggles all around.

Carlos and I make our gigantic purchases. I mean, he wouldn’t let me leave until I had every single thing I wanted. I don’t understand him. He overreacted by leaving, but I forgive him. He was only gone for a couple of days, I don’t want him to think he has to buy me a bunch of stuff to make it up to me. We both made mistakes, we both apologized, and it’s over in my opinion.

“You’re thinking hard,” he says, taking a bite of his cheeseburger.

We’re huddled inside of one of his favorite sports bars, eating terribly unhealthy, yet, extremely delicious bar food.

“Do you think I don’t forgive you, or that you have to make things up to me?” I blurt out.

“Well, I was a shit. I was wrong, but I apologized and you accepted,” he says with a shrug as he shovels fries into his mouth.

“Why did you want to take me shopping? You never take me shopping, and then you bought me whatever I wanted,” I point out. He stops mid chew and throws his food down before turning to me.

“I bought it for you because you needed it and you wanted it. I’m a cheap ass, I know, but you’re carrying my babies. I haven’t made the beginning of this pregnancy easy on you and I want to change that. This is for sure the last time you’ll ever be pregnant. This is the last time I’ll watch your body grow to accommodate and give life to my children,
carina
. I want it to be a positive experience, for all of us.”

“The last time?” I ask, unable to let the rest of his beautiful words sink in or I’ll cry.

“I made an appointment for myself, Vic. Four babies is enough,” he grins.

“Yeah?” I ask in surprise.

“Yeah. I’m stubborn and sometimes I need to be hit over the head to get shit to sink in, but I’m not a fool. We need to upgrade the house, the car, and you need help. Also, you were right, I should have gotten the vasectomy when you wanted me to, but I didn’t. God decided that we needed two more babies in our lives and I’m happy, excited even. This change, it feels good. These babies are a blessing,” he presses his hand to my belly and the tears that I was trying to hold back fall from my eyes.

“Los,” I whisper.

“Hurry and eat, we have a meeting with a real estate agent in an hour,” he announces.

I can’t help the gigantic smile that forms on my lips at his words. He’s serious. Everything he’s telling me is truthful and I love it, I love him, and I love this life we have.

Carlos drives us toward
Park Avenue
and I gape at him. We don’t live in a crappy apartment, but Los has always been frugal. We aren’t extremely flashy people but this apartment building is just that,
flash
.

We walk up to the building and head inside, where the reception area is. There is a man in a three-piece suit and when he sees us, I swear, dollar signs appear in his eyes. He must be Pete’s realtor. He knows exactly who I am and greets me with a firm handshake before he shoots my wife a kind smile. I’m sure it’s all bullshit, but I don’t care. I’m used to people being nice to me just because of my name.
I hate it, but I’m used to it.

He starts to tell us all about the building as we make our way to the elevator. The building was built in 1925 and this elevator opens to our own private elevator landing. I like the privacy and the security the building offers. Victoria is in awe as she looks around at the opulence of the architecture.

Once we step inside of the apartment, my mouth drops. It’s fucking gorgeous. It has marble flooring and a formal dining room, formal living area, a family room, and a chef’s kitchen —
whatever the fuck that means
. There is also a library and two bedrooms, plus the master.

“Los, we could turn this library into the babies’ room and still use the built in shelves for decorations and books,” she points out. I watch the real estate agent cringe at her idea.

“How many children do you have? There are two other bedrooms,” he offers. Victoria turns to him and narrows her eyes. I hope she can reign in the bitch, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.

“We have two and I’m pregnant with twins,” she says haughtily. I chuckle and he looks at her like she’s got horns on her head.

“
Four children? In the city?
” he asks.

I don’t think he meant to actually ask the question aloud, but he did. Now my wife is turning red with her spicy as shit temper.

“That’s why we’re looking for a bigger place. We’re going to outgrow our place soon,” I say, cutting off my wife’s reply.

“This building is certainly safe, but I’m not sure…” he trails off.

“All old people, huh?” I ask with a laugh. He nods his head.

“If you want your privacy, I think I have a much better fit for you. A townhouse on
94
th
Street
. Its six bedrooms and seven bathrooms for the same price as this place. You’ll have your privacy and an extra bedroom for the children and guests. Plus, it’s new,” he offers. I watch Vic’s eyes light up.

We rush over to the townhouse and as soon as we pull up to the front of the brick building, Victoria looks at me and I know she loves it.

“This is it,” she says with a huge smile.

We walk inside and I know that this is
it.
This place is perfect. There is a private garage, cellar, and roof decks as well. Plus, an elevator to take you from floor to floor. It is perfect, it is private —
it is us
. This is a safe place that I have no issues leaving my family in while I go on the road.

There are no other people in the building to let in any strangers. The whole place is outfitted with alarms and security measures have already been taken. I love everything and Victoria, she is loving all of the amenities it offers—all of the special touches.

“It has a studio apartment for my family when they come,” she screams, running at me with a huge smile. That smile of hers—this place is hers. The way she’s looking at me right now, like I have the biggest fucking dick on earth, she can have whatever she wants.

“You want it,
hermosa
?” I ask softly. Her eyes light up even brighter, so fucking bright I think they might blind me.

“I do! So much, Los,” she grins.

“It’s yours, then,” I say. I turn to the real estate agent and catch his eye before I speak.

“Offer full price, cash, my wife wants it.”

I watch as the real estate agent smiles widely, probably thinking about what he’s going to buy with his big fat commission check. We leave the townhouse light and happy. Shit is falling nicely into place and my woman is happy. So fuckin’ happy she can’t wipe the smile off of her face. I look over at her as we drive home and notice her fingers flying over the keypad.

“Who’re you texting?”

“The girls. I took pictures and I’m sending them to everyone,” she shrugs. I grin.

So fucking happy.