Never Too Soon

THREE

THREE“Do you like it?”

Catie frowned as Antoine fiddled with the change in his pockets. His indifference was exhausting. They had spent two hours looking at cribs, and Catie was ready to make a decision, but Antoine apparently felt it was more important to clink the coins in his pocket. She agreed that most of the beds were white, frilly, and overpriced, but it was about the process. This was for their baby girl, for goodness’ sake. Their first child.

“Yeah,” he said.

“No, you don’t.” Catie tried to control her irritation, but she was frustrated by what seemed like deliberate unconcern. Antoine knew that choosing a bed was important to her, and instead of being supportive, he was sulking and playing with the stupid change in his stupid pocket.

“I like it. I just don’t know why you have to pick one that is so expensive,” he said, his voice so low that Catie had to lean in to hear.

“This is the same crib Princess Charlotte had!”

Antoine looked around the posh boutique and put his finger to his lips. “Shhh. I don’t care if it’s the same bed King Combs had. It doesn’t make sense to buy a bed that costs so much when the baby will grow out of it in a year.”

“Don’t shhh me! And yes it does. It’s the best. I want the best for our baby, and you should too!”

“Fine. Buy it.”

Catie saw the woman behind the register look over at them, and she turned her back to the snooping sales rep.

“Are you serious right now?” she hissed. It wasn’t Catie’s fault she could afford a luxury crib and he couldn’t. He should be grateful instead of standing there looking like he was going to puke. He was so ungrateful and contrary. And his constant clinking of coins made her want to scream. “Are you really playing with coins while we are deciding on a bed for our baby?”

“Deciding? That would include discussion and compromise,” Antoine said with thinly veiled sarcasm. “I suggested Macy’s or Target, but once again you ignored me, and here we are at this hoity-toity furniture store with stuff that costs way too much.” They were losing their battle with discretion.

“First of all,” she held up a finger, “I’m not buying my baby’s bed from Target. Have you lost your mind?”

Instead of rising to the fight, Antoine seemed to deflate. “Catie, buy the bed. You want it, so get it. And put your finger down.”

“We are supposed to do this together.” This was not how she had pictured crib shopping for their child.

“Together?” he asked.

“Together,” she repeated.

“Buy it.” He pulled out his phone.

Catie raised her eyebrows, spun on her heels, and walked away. “I’m not going to buy it if you’re gonna pout.”

Antoine caught up to her by the door. “Just get the bed, Catie,” he said.

“You don’t like anything that I like.” She kept walking, and he groaned and opened the door for her.

“Have a great afternoon!” the clerk called as the door swung shut.

Antoine and Catie had differing opinions about family, finances, where to live, what to name the baby, and whether or not to go to church. The additional conflict of choosing a luxury crib was the icing on the cake.

Catie stared out the car window as they drove home. She was getting sick of Antoine’s indifference or worse, irritation, when she did something he didn’t like. He knew who she was when they got together, and now he was complaining that she paid too much for things and worried too much about the store. She was a boss—literally, with her own clothing company—and that was never going to change.

Antoine put a hand on her thigh and glanced at her. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I really, really don’t want to have another fight. It seems like that’s all we do lately. If you want to buy the bed, Caitlin, please get the bed. It’s just expensive and you know how I am, but I know you like finer things, so babe, just get it.”

“It’s fine,” she said, but it wasn’t. She didn’t feel like talking to the man who had ruined her beautiful Saturday morning with nonsense. Antoine knew Target would never be an option for buying a bed. She continued to stare out of the window.

Antoine sighed.

Catie and Antoine had met as kids when Antoine’s mom, Wanda, dated Anaya’s uncle Riley. They fell out of touch when Wanda and Riley broke up but reconnected years later through Anaya. Catie had always been attracted to Antoine, and not just because of his model looks and perfect body. Antoine was kind and made up for his mediocre income with his genuineness and thoughtfulness. Once, Catie broke her heel at Anaya’s birthday party, and Antoine had carried her to her car. Neither of them knew their fathers, they both grew up in rough neighborhoods, and loyalty meant everything to them. At first, it seemed unlikely that they would survive as a couple, but two-and-a-half years later Antoine was still the blue-collar yin to Catie’s YSL yang.

Their differences had started to clash more openly after moving in together last year, and even more since Catie became pregnant.

“Are you hungry?”

Catie was never too upset for food, but she wanted him to sweat it out for a while. She eyed him with frosty calm before saying, “Okay.” Then she asked, “Antoine, do you lie?”

Antoine furrowed his brow. “It’s not my hobby or anything.” He chuckled. “But I’m sure I’ve told a tale or two in my day.”

She studied his face, unamused. Antoine’s face was like an open book. “A tale or two?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you lie to me?”

“Nope.”

“So you always tell me the truth?”

“What is this about, babe?” he asked.

“What is what about?”

“I don’t know. These questions. The attitude. Getting all mad about the bed. I just didn’t expect this today. I thought today was going to be . . .” He didn’t finish his thought and kept his eyes on the road.

“Well?” Catie narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “Do you tell the truth?”

“Catie, I do. I always tell you the truth.” He looked at her seriously as he pulled into the parking lot of one of her favorite restaurants.

She folded her arms across her chest.

“Do you want to eat here or do you want to get food to go?”

“To go,” she pouted.

Antoine got out of the car.

To distract herself, Catie scrolled through i********: while she waited for Antoine. i********: was great for her business—she gained a lot of customers from posting—but she got tired of seeing the same posts over and over from the same overexposed people.

Look at me in a bathing suit. I look great, don’t I?

Look at my beautiful children and amazing husband.

Look at me, I don’t know how to correctly upload photos, but I’m going to flood your timeline anyway.

Look at me pretending to be happy when I’m utterly miserable and uncomfortable in my own skin.

Look at me pretending to be empowering and uplifting when I’m indeed a hater.

She was over it. She checked Kensington Palace’s latest posts. She adored Meghan Markle. Just as she zoomed in on a photo of Meghan and Harry, Antoine’s cell phone buzzed in the cup holder between the front seats. She absently picked it up and looked at the screen.

When will I see you again? It’s been too long.

Catie frowned and looked toward the restaurant doors where Antoine had disappeared.