Page 66 of How to Date a Younger Man
“Are you serious?” Layne’s jaw drops. “I thought we were being discreet . . .”
Kristen barks out a laugh. “Hardly.”
“What were the stakes?” I ask, so proud of my sister for this absurd intrusion of privacy.
“So, if you didn’t start dating, we would spend our honeymoon on a beach somewhere stupid,” she says with an eye roll. “But, if you did start dating, like I thought you would, we would spend our honeymoon hiking in the mountains!”
My sister is practically bouncing with excitement. While Layne and I stare in complete shock and wonder, Kristen shovels french toast into her mouth, humming happily.
“Now,” she mutters through a mouthful of breakfast, “I get to wear those Lululemon hiking leggings I bought last year.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Layne deadpans, and I snort.
She’s probably annoyed that she wasted so much emotional energy fretting about this conversation. Who knew it would be this easy?
“Thanks,” Kristen says with a wink. “You guys are so fucking cute together. Don’t ever break up.”
I smile, taking Layne’s hand. “Don’t plan to.”
23
* * *
LAYNE
“How’s the ravioli? Everything you ever dreamed of?” Griffin’s voice coaxes me out of my happy place, his turquoise eyes dancing in amusement at what I’m sure is an almost orgasmic look on my face.
“Heavenly. When you said you had something special planned for us, I had no idea you’d be feeding me the best Italian food I’ve ever had in my life. How did you find this place again?” I ask before putting another bite of the most delicious spinach-and-ricotta ravioli in my mouth.
“One of our clients is the owner. I guess her great-grandparents opened it years ago, shortly after arriving in America, and it’s been in the family ever since. Seemed like the perfect place for a date night to me.”
“Date night.” I smile, tilting my head to the side and reaching for his hand over the white tablecloth. “I’ve got to say, it’s nice to not have to be sneaking around all the time anymore.”
“Turns out there are all kinds of things you can do once you’re an official couple,” he says, lacing his fingers between mine as he flashes me a devilish grin. “But you have to admit, the sneaking around was hot as hell.”
I chuckle at him and shake my head. “Are you worried we’ll lose the spark now that we’ve gone public?” I pull my hand away and arch a challenging brow, crossing my arms and resting my elbows on the table, aware of how this movement will show off my already ample cleavage even more.
“Just say the word, and I’ll meet you in the bathroom for a quickie.”
We both laugh, and he reaches across the table to rub his calloused thumb along my cheek, sending a whole flurry of butterflies swarming low in my belly.
You’d think that our history together would make our relationship feel as normal as anything else—and in some ways it does. We got to skip the awkward getting to know you phase, as well as the part where you learn each other’s quirks, both good and bad. But surprisingly enough, since we’ve made our relationship official, our connection feels as fresh and exciting as ever. Even more so because we now know exactly where each other stands. And since Griffin started working for a new architecture firm downtown and has gotten busier, our time together feels even more precious.
As Griffin sips his wine, I take a moment to admire this man I love—his straight nose, his cheekbones, his perfectly chiseled jaw accentuated by the slightest hint of a five o’clock shadow. It sometimes still blows my mind that I’m the woman he wants to be with. It’s not an issue of self-esteem—I know how amazing I am, and he makes damn sure to tell me.
“So, have you decided what you want to do about the appointment? I think we should just hear what the doctor has to say,” he says, resting his elbows on the table.
Leave it to Griffin to practically read my mind and ask a question that totally blows any doubts I have about our relationship out of the water.
I sigh, pushing my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know, babe, a fertility clinic? I get what Dr. Trager was saying; I’m no spring chicken. And I know that I want kids, but jumping straight into fertility counseling feels so . . . defeatist. Maybe I should just reschedule.”
I’ve had this appointment set up since before we started dating. It was something I felt the need to explore, but now that we’re together, I feel less sure. I don’t want to drag Griffin through this.
“I hear you, but I think it might be good to just go. At the very least, we can get some information and prepare for the future. Nothing definite has to happen right now.”
