Page 59 of Disarming Caine

“Yeah, my original date got sick, so Nathan took me.”

He pursed his lips and turned to a page with a pressed lily, a photo of my mom, and a group photo at Cass’s house. “All in black. This was your mother’s memorial? And he was there, as well?”

I nodded, and he slid a hand over mine.

“I didn’t understand before, but I think I do now.” He brought the hand to his lips, and I looked down at him. “He’s everywhere in here, from when you were young.”

“Twelve.”

“He truly is your family.” The way he smiled, I knew the jealousy was done. It had sunk in. Good thing I hadn’t hidden the scrapbook.

Taking the hand back, I flipped to a different page with the heading ‘Adventure Seeker.’ Far less emotional. “This is me—”

“How many children do you want to have?”

A fluttering ran through my chest, replaced quickly by a fist clamping around my heart. My hand hovered over a picture of me after getting my skydiving C license. Where did that question come from?

“I grew up with two siblings, so always thought I wanted three. All boys, just like Sofia has.” He flipped the pages to a family trip we took to the Grand Canyon when I was eleven. “But seeing these pictures of you and Cassandra has me thinking. Maybe two? Maybe girls?”

I slid to the edge of the bed. We were not having this conversation; it was too early. But the image was in my head; our family at the Grand Canyon with our kids. He’d be wearing hiking gear, like when we went to the river together in August. I’d be teaching the kids how to climb rocks safely, while he taught them how to capture the light for painting.

The tightness gave way to a looseness, an ease. But it was ridiculous. Married and having kids with… Dr. Antonio Ferraro? Less than six months ago, I could barely string two words together when we were in the same room.

He shut the book and hauled me backwards on top of him. With a low grunt, he rolled me onto the bed, pinning me.

“What the—”

“How many?” He dug his fingers into my waist and I squealed. “Tell me!”

“Stop!” I laughed, while he continued, only encouraged by my weak attempts to get free, trying not to hurt his shoulder.

He smooched my neck, loud, goofy kisses, over and over while tickling me.

“No!” I howled, squirming loose, but he grabbed me again, eyes squeezing shut as he did.

“Tell me!” He snuck a hand into my armpit, and I yelped.

I sucked in one rapid gulp of air. “Broccoli!”

He stilled immediately. “Did you just safe word a tickle fight?”

I flagged against him, trying to catch my breath.

“Are you alright?” He rolled us so I was lying on the bed, and he hovered over me. “Did I hurt you?”

“Fine.” I cleared the tears from my face, the laughter still coming in bursts. “I could barely breathe.”

He smirked, the mischief resuming its near-constant state in his eyes, his hand sneaking down to the waistband of my pants. “No matter, I have other ways of making you talk—”

“Two!” I grabbed his hand with a giggle. Not a giggle. I didn’t giggle. “Boy and a girl! Now stop! I can tell you’re in pain, you fool.”

“I’m fine.” He winked—shooting back the words I used every time I was injured—and planted one more smooch on my neck. “That was not so hard, was it?”

“Jerk.” I lay back, chuckling as he gripped my waist. He was about to try something else. Did I want to fend it off? If we got carried away here, maybe I could avoid visiting his family.

But he rolled off the bed, saying, “Now hurry up. We need to take this stuff to your truck and get ready for dinner with my parents.”

Chapter 20

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