Page 113 of Sully

Sully and I did partake—hanging out in the pool, showing everyone how to use the ‘adult playground,’ or playing cards—but we just as often wanted to kind of just hang out by ourselves in his room.

Actually, more so, we wanted to stay in the room. Crafting, watching movies, talking about the house and the future. Which, apparently, involved quite a few kids.

That was something I could totally get behind. Especially after seeing how amazing Sully was with all of the kids. Not just with the fun stuff—though he was good with that—but with the fighting, the boo-boos, the overtired fits, all of it.

And, yeah, the longer I was with him, the more I felt that little tug in my belly at the idea of us having our own kids.

“How’s it coming?” Sully asked, walking up behind me, wrapping an arm around my belly and resting his head on my shoulder.

“What do you think?” I asked, gesturing toward the little floral border I’d painted along the top of the window.

When we’d first stepped foot inside the house as homeowners, we’d both decided that we didn’t want somebland, boring, builder-model-looking home. We wanted to fill it with personality and fun.

So we picked bold colors. We hung unique artwork. And, yes, I hand-painted little details along windows or on the stair risers.

“Are those…” he started to ask.

“All the flowers you got me for Valentine’s Day? Yep.”

“Love it,” he told me, turning his face to press a kiss to my neck. “Not as much as I love you, though,” he told me, making my belly swoop. “If Perish wasn’t out there, I’d show you just how much.”

“He’s very worried about the lawn,” I told him, smiling as Zima came running up to him, dropping down on her front legs, her butt in the air, and barking at Perish, likely thinking he was playing some sort of game.

“Did you remind him that the lawn is probably going to be covered in paintball paint, water balloons, and bubble soap all the time?”

“He said ‘not yet,’” I told him.

“Still not yet?” Sully asked, fingers dancing across my belly.

We weren’t exactly trying.

But we weren’tnottrying either.

Which mainly just meant that we were having all the same volume of sex as usual. With none of the precautions.

It was okay with both of us if we did things a little nontraditionally. I mean, we met because of a bomb. We were never going to follow some normal timeline.

If I had a baby—or three—before we got around to the whole wedding thing, that was alright by me. In fact, if wecould just bypass the spectacle of a showy wedding where all eyes would be on me, all the better.

“Not yet,” I confirmed. “Though you certainly increased the odds last night,” I said, leaning back into him, thinking of how many times he’d rallied the night before, surging into me until he came inside of me. Once, twice, four times before he finally chugged a bottle of electrolytes and passed out.

Maybe we had created a little life.

But, so far, no signs.

“You should paint a mural in the second bedroom,” Sully suggested.

“Exotic animals wearing Hawaiian shirts?” I asked, making him chuckle.

“I like the way your mind works,” he decided. “Did our new book get here yet?”

“I didn’t see the delivery truck.”

“What’s taking so long?” Sully grumbled, making a smile spread across my face.

He was weirdly obsessed with this series I happened upon featuring cowboys and aliens. That, yes, banged. A lot. In very inventive ways. The kind of inventive ways that made Sully insist we try to recreate it ‘for science.’

“Well, we can’t read it while Perish is here anyway,” I reminded him.

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