I just . . .
“You’re thinking too much,” Bobby said, leaning in to kiss me again.
More honking ensued from the car next to us, but I couldn’t have cared less. Bobby either, apparently, because he didn’t pull back right away.
When he finally did, he looked at me, saying nothing.
I tried to catch my breath, and finally said, “Private is good.”
He fairly chucked the speaker box out the window, started the car, throwing it into reverse. The kids next to us cheered.
“Riley’s not home, right?”
My libido was doing a happy dance. “He’s not home.” He spent most weekends with Kevin.
85
Kevin.
Over and over again.
Because apparently it was the only thing I
I reached over, took Bobby’s hand as he sped through the streets. “So,” I said, picking up his line of questioning, “do you want kids?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“How many?”
“At least four.”
“Four!” All right. This might not have been the best dis -
traction.
He laughed. “You should see your face.”
I could imagine.
“I want a big family.” He rubbed a finger along the palm of my hand, sending delicious shivers up my arm.
“Oh.”
“You never did answer me, by the way.”
“What? When?”
“Do
This was probably one of those conversations all people should have at some point in their relationship, but now, on the way to do what we were going to do, I didn’t think it was the best time.
“Nina?” He sounded worried. “You don’t want kids at all?”
“No, I do. I do. I don’t know about four, but I do want kids. Someday.”
He glanced at me. “Someday?”
“Someday.” I didn’t know when. How did a person know when?
In the streetlight, I could see him nod. “I suppose we should just get it all out.”
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Heather Webber
“All?”
“Everything.”
“Like?” I asked, wishing my ice cream wasn’t a puddle in a cup on the floorboard. I could use some fortification right now.
“How do you feel about marriage?”
I groaned.
“Well, that answers that.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I think I could marry again . . .”
“Someday.”
“Exactly.”
I noticed his finger had stopped rubbing my palm.
“What about relocating?” he asked.
