Page 56 of Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

“Mont.” I put a finger up to his lips. “I’d really like to spend the night. And I’d really like you to squish yourself up against me right now as we fit on this twin-sized camping pad and tiny sleeping bag and watch the not-real-sky do its sky thing.”

Twin-sized things are a great idea because if this were any bigger, we wouldn’t have to be so close. I like the closeness, and I like the way Mont squishes up against me and wraps a strong arm around me. I like the way he smells, all manly and literally oozing sexiness.

We’re silent for a while, watching the stars, but they don’t change or shift. A few minutes in, Mont sighs. “What I was saying before…like, a while ago…I’ve been thinking about that. In my world, it’s wrong not to have a plan. People do things at prescribed times. Not to the year or the date, but it’s expected that one finds one’s stride, keeps that growth and momentum going, finds a partner to share it with, and then passes it down to the next generation.”

“Babies…” Are we having the baby conversation already? If this is hypothetical, then I’m good. But if it’s about heirs and whether I can make one anytime soon, then I’m going to panic.

Mont senses my tension, and his body becomes less languid beside me. “Do you want children?”

I become less languid, too. “I think so. That’s the thing about being a woman. People give you that question all the time, and the older you get, the more imperative it becomes. I know it’s because society still has this burning biological clock notion, but it’s obnoxious.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Add obnoxious gas to the obnoxious fire? I know. You’re good. I could ask you the same thing. Do you want kids? And I’m sure you’ll give me the same answer I did. That you do want them, but you don’t know when.”

“You’re right,” he says.

I shift so I can see his face, framed by the stars and the big wood beams above. He’s so serious but more lost in thought. “I’m glad there’s a pushback on it, but it’s still there. All the heavy expectations. It’s not that you can’t live and have a family or do the things you want to do after you have a kid. I’m not one of those people who believe that responsibilities ruin your life or that kids become this millstone around your neck, dragging you to the bottom of the fun pond. Sure, I do think some things are easier, and some things should probably be done before. I’m just not sure I subscribe to the right way and the wrong way and the timelines because those feel like millstones. I’m glad the world is shifting ideology when it comes to working yourself to death, too. There shouldn’t be such a thing as work-life balance. I don’t think the scales should ever be even or equal when it comes to working and living. You should always be living first.”

“But that’s an ideal….” It sounds like a question, and he’s watching me with an intense amount of focus now.

“It’s very idealistic. It’s on the list of working your ass off toward making it a reality. That’s just me, and I know not everyone has that or can live like that,” I say.

“And marriage? Is that an ideal as well?” he asks.

“I don’t want to think it is, but I like it to be in the distant future behind a long list of things I’d like to do first.”

“I feel the same way. I don’t like to think that all life is just working toward that push to those end goals. I’d like to enjoy life along the way and for my partner to feel the same. I’d like more crab dates with you, more sass and sunshine in my life, and more pudding greatness. One day, and it’s a distant one day, when we’re both ready, I’d like you to meet my parents, and I’d like to meet yours too. No charade and no pressure.”

I chuckle at the no-pressure part. Meeting the parents is always pressure. But, also, meeting his mom again? “Would your poor mom even believe we’re dating? I texted Gen and told her we’re dating for real, but it was over text, so I didn’t get to hear her burst of wild laughter at the absurdity of it.”

“At least it’s a funny meet-cute,” he says with a chuckle.

“Meet-cute. Who came up with that anyway?”

“Who comes up with anything trendy now?”

“I don’t know, but I hate it. I wish I could throw my phone in the toilet half the time. That’s pretty much where it belongs, anyway,” I grumble.

“We should get offline then. Just for a few days. Get away from everything everyone wants us to be and do.”

“Are you asking me to come away with you, you sexy beast?” I tease.

He grins and shifts up onto his elbow. I love the angle at which he’s looking down at me because the faux starlight creates the most beautiful shadows with his eyelashes on his cheeks. “Would you like me to ask you to come away with me?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you think I’m a beast or just sexy or both? That sounds like another ideal I’m going to have a hard time living up to.” Hetraces a pattern along my bottom lip. Slowly, sensually. And it makes me want to pant and growl like I’m the beast.

“If only you knew how my whole body sings whenever you’re around. My chemistry likes your chemistry, and there’s already a full lab going on. You don’t have to do anything to live up to it. It’s already a thing. The best beast thing.”

“The best beast thing. I like that.” He takes my nipple—the one that is positively perfectly healed—into his mouth again. It really likes this man’s mouth. In fact, it wants to live in this man’s mouth.

The rest of me wants to live inside him, too.

And that’s before he does the thing with his tongue. All. Over. My. Body.

Chapter seventeen

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