"My mom is keeping the kids overnight," I said as I pressed kisses along the column of her neck, loving the way her body writhed against mine.
"Mmmm hmmm," she said, clearly unable to put words together, making me smile against her skin.
"Say you'll stay the night with me." She stilled at my words, and I was sort of expecting that. We'd had an emotional afternoon and she probably hadn't expected to be ambushed with sex when she agreed to dinner, but her hesitation was short-lived, and a moment later she was right back on track with me.
"Okay," she breathed.
"Here's what's going to happen," I said just before I took her earlobe between my teeth, tugging gently, then letting go. "I'm going to make us dinner, we're going to talk-about everything-and then we're going to bed." I pulled back and met her eyes. "Sound good?"
She nodded, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.
"Good," I said, reaching up and gently tugging her lip free. "You're beautiful when you're frazzled." I tucked the hair I'd messed up behind her ear, smiling as I watched her senses come back.
"Frazzled," she said with a laugh. "That's a new word for it."
I kissed her then, because there was no way I couldn't. Then I took her hand and pulled her away from the door, leading her to the kitchen.
"Take these glasses of wine and go sit outside," I said, handing her the two glasses I'd poured just before she arrived. "I'll grab the food and meet you out there."
She complied, taking the wine outside, and my eyes stayed trained on her the whole time. I gathered everything I needed to cook our meal. We talked while I grilled, no residual awkwardness from that afternoon, our conversation flowing like it always had. When I watched her take the first bite of her steak, when her eyes rolled back in her head just like they had at lunch, I realized how much I loved that Grace enjoyed food. She wasn't shy about eating and something about that was sexy.
We talked about Jaxy and Ruby, about their upcoming trip to California, but neither of us admitted that we didn't miss them. Sure, a tiny part of me-the dad part-felt a little bit guilty that I was at home enjoying a real, adult meal, but the biggest part of me was glad my mom had offered to keep them. And I knew Grace was too.
When we were both done eating, I pushed my chair back and turned it, then crooked a finger at her.
"Come here, Grace."
She gave me a shy smile, but followed my instructions, walking around the table and stopping in front of me. I wrapped my arm around her waist and eased her down on my lap, pulling her close. She laughed and looped one arm around the back of my neck, giving me her signature bright smile.
"So," she said, laughing and swinging her legs. "Now's the part of the evening where we talk, huh?"
"Right," I said, settling my hand on her knee, making her legs still. "I want you to talk to me, but I want you to turn off your filter for a few minutes, and talk to me like you're not afraid of what the consequences might be."
"All right," she said, her voice unsure, her body tensing up.
"Hey." My hand on her knee moved to cup her face. "Don't do that, don't put up any walls. I just want to talk." She nodded, so I continued. "Tell me, honestly, the man you see yourself with for the rest of your life, how does he support you in regard to having children?"
Her eyes went wide with my question, but I simply slid my hand around the back of her neck and brought her forehead to mine. "It's okay, Grace. We're not making plans here, we're just talking. I want to know where your head is at, how you're feeling, and what you want in the future. Just talk to me." She nodded again, took in a deep breath, then relaxed a little as she exhaled. I loosened my hold on her, and we both leaned back. She bit her lip again, her eyes on the hand in her lap, fidgeting, but then eventually her gaze met mine.
"After everything that happened with Jeff, I'd pretty much resigned myself to never having kids. For a long time, I thought I'd never want to be with another man again. You know, scorned woman and all. I figured I'd be single forever and be a fabulous unmarried woman. But then the years passed and I realized I didn't want to be alone forever. The idea of dating again started to seep in, but I never did because every time I pictured myself dating a man, I pictured having the conversation with him I had with you today. And I always pictured him leaving afterward." She dropped her eyes again, looking down at her lap. "I mean, no man would want a barren woman."
"Hey, stop it," I whispered, squeezing her knee for emphasis.
She shrugged. "I'm being honest, Devon."
I couldn't argue with that. Honesty was what I'd asked for.
"Anyway," she continued. "If Jeff hadn't cheated on me, if we'd stayed together, I would have done another round of IVF. It was hard, and it was painful in all kinds of ways, but I would have done it again. So, I guess my future husband would have to be onboard for that. Or at least open to it." She shrugged again and let out a breath.
"What all does that entail?"
"It involves a lot. He would have to give me daily injections of hormones. It's a lot of doctor appointments, ejaculating into a cup, and watching me go through some painful procedures. It's crazy mood swings and a lot of emotional breakdowns." She sighed, pushing her brown locks out of her face. "It's also expensive, and not guaranteed. You end up spending twenty thousand dollars and in the end you might not even have a baby."
"I've spent twenty thousand dollars on things way less impressive than a baby," I said, trying to lighten the mood.
"Devon, don't," she chastised, her eyes darting downward again. "You wanted to have this conversation, and I knew it was coming, but don't joke around."
"Grace, look at me." She didn't, so I put a finger under her chin and brought her face up, looking her in the eyes. "I'm not joking, and I'm glad we're talking about this. Listen," I said, dropping my hand but shifting so both my hands were wrapped around her. "I'm not saying we're going to get married next week, but I wouldn't be with you if I didn't see a future. It wouldn't be fair to either of us, after what happened today, if we didn't talk about it. I don't want either of us to keep this up if it's just going to end down the line because we didn't talk about it."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I want to know where your head's at, what you might want in the future."
"I want to be a mom."
"What about a stepmom?" With one question I'd moved us from the hypothetical to the reality. The switch was bold and the air changed around us. The conversation was suddenly very serious.
"I love Ruby and Jax, Devon. And if one day I got the chance to be their stepmother, I'd be honored. I'd love them and protect them, do anything I could for them. But … ."
"But you'd still want a child of your own."
She nodded and I could see the tears welling in her eyes.
"Don't cry, Gracie. There's no reason to cry. If one day I get to be your husband, I'll do anything I can to make that happen for you."
"I would never want you or the kids to think you weren't enough for me, because I swear I would be happy with just us four, but if there's a chance-ˮ
"I want to take that chance with you."
We stared at each other for a moment, our breaths panting in and out, both trying to take in the enormity of what we'd said to each other. I'd meant to have a conversation just to clear the air, to get everything out on the table, but I hadn't meant to talk seriously about marriage.
Not that I hadn't thought about it.
I had.
In passing.
I'd thought about marrying Grace when she helped Jaxy read a particularly hard word the week before last.
I'd thought about marrying Grace when she'd texted me to pick up some milk from the grocery store. I'd run out to rent a movie, and she and the kids decided to make cookies and didn't think there was enough milk for everyone.
I'd thought about marrying Grace when I watched her kiss Jaxy on the forehead as he lay asleep in his bed when she went in his room to tuck him in for the night.
I'd thought about marrying Grace when I discovered she hummed 80s music to herself when she does the dishes.
I'd thought about marrying Grace one night when we sat on the couch and she laughed at a stupid joke I'd made and pushed her hand through her hair at the same time.
I'd thought about marrying Grace that afternoon when she brought me lunch.
I'd thought about marrying Grace in that very moment, with her eyes staring back at mine, uncertainty clouding them, and I wanted nothing more than to reassure her I wasn't playing some hypothetical game. Grace, on paper, was perfect. But Grace, pulled apart, examined, identified, classified, quantified, and studied was whatever came after that. Something unnamed, because no one, aside from me, had taken the time with her. But I would.
My hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and I kissed her. When she opened up for me, all the tension we'd built between us melted away. Our hands were both roaming wildly, her fingers threading through my hair, my hands gripping her waist, wanting nothing more than to feel her skin against mine.
Without much thought, I stood up, taking her with me, and carried her through the house all the way back to my bedroom, never taking my mouth away from hers. When I slowly laid her down on the bed, she seemed to blossom beneath me; arms above her head, legs open allowing me to rest between them, and eyes eagerly taking me in. She was just as engrossed in me as I was in her.