Page 54 of Falling

“Every second of every day,” he quips. I cock a hip. He grabs our bags. With a sigh, I shrug into my coat and follow him out the door. Sometimes he just doesn’t rise to the bait.

I notice a wad of cash lying on the counter in the kitchen. Figures that Gene didn’t charge us for the cabin either. Peter’s a man who pays his debts though. He would have thought about that casserole and added extra.

“Holy shit, it’s cold,” I complain when the wind hits me. The tow truck is sitting farther down the driveway, with exhaust pouring out of the back.

“He’s showing us how to get back to the highway,” Peter says, following my line of sight. “Here, get in.” He holds the door so I can clamor inside. The seat warmer is already on high. He tosses the bags on the seat and climbs in beside me. “Buckle up. The roads are still icy.” The tires crunch on the ice as we follow the tow truck down the winding driveway.

He leads us all the way into town before flashing his lights to let us know we’re on the right road. Peter spies the lone diner with its open sign in the window. We agree that we’d rather make miles than spend time inside waiting for our food. He runs inside and returns with two sandwiches. What makes me happiest is the carrier of coffee.

“I’m not sure what we wound up with,” he says, handing me the bag.

“Looks like ham, bacon, and cheese.” I fold the paper on one of the sandwich bags so Peter can hold it without taking his eyes off the road.

Pulling the other sandwich out, I sink my teeth into the gooey goodness. What is with this town? Is it a secret pocket of gourmet chefs? I guess we will never know as we put miles between us and it.

“These people can cook,” he points out.

“I was just thinking that. There’s a bunch of fries in the bottom too.” I pop one in my mouth. It’s still hot and just salty enough to be good. “I couldn’t live here. I’d be the size of a house.”

“We’d have that in common, for sure.”

Speaking of, surely I can find at least one last quiz in one of the magazines. I reach into the back for my stack. Flipping through one, I find a quiz that should be a little more light-hearted than what we’ve been doing.

“When I ask you a question, just say the first thing that comes to mind. Whatever your preference is, okay?”

“Okay,” he says hesitantly.

“Dog or cat?”

“Dog.”

“Yeah, I would guess you’re a dog person. I don’t care either way. I like dogs and cats. Would you rather go out or stay in on Friday night?”

“Yes,” he answers.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, it is. I’d rather take you out for the evening, then head home and spend the rest of the night on top of you. I guess if I can only choose one, I’ll take on top of you.”

“Would you rather vacation in the mountains or on the beach?”

“After this, I’ll choose the beach. With you in that bikini.”

“We should go dive off the wrecks around Florida next time. I’ll wear the bikini.”

“Deal,” he says, offering to shake my hand. I take it, and he pulls my knuckles to his lips. It’s a very boyfriend move.

“Let’s see. Would you rather move back to your hometown or never go back?”

“I like where I grew up. I’d move back if I had to, but I’m not itching to. It’ll be nice to live closer though. Maybe I can see my family a little more often.”

“I love San Francisco, but I feel the same way. I’d rather live closer to Rand than my parents. I’m sure I’ll go back for a visit eventually. Not any time soon though,” I say. “Would you rather have no kids or eight?”

“Eight,” he answers without even hesitating. “I grew up in a large family. My siblings were the best part of that.”

“You just made my uterus scream in fear,” I tease.

He throws his head back and laughs. Why is it not weird to be talking about our future kids constantly? I guess I’m starting to feel invested in this relationship. I have to admit, I like the way that feels.

---