Page 14 of Who's Your Daddy?

The sun disappeared some time ago. Stars are twinkling overhead, and the dark navy sky is a reminder that I’ve been here way too long, yet I still make no attempt to stand up.

“The 1933 version ofLittle Womenwas perfect the way it was,” Peter complains. “There was no need for another three adaptations after that.”

“Anotherthree?”

If he says there were three adaptations, I believe him. I don’t need verification. I only ask as a prompt because I really like listening to him. His voice is a rich, velvety rumble, deep yet mellow and perfectly pitched. I find it so soothing, and when mixed with the sound of the waves in the background, I reach a state of relaxation I didn’t think was possible today.

“Yeah,” he replies. “If we ignore the two silent movies and the smaller TV adaptations, they did a remake in 1949, 1994, and 2019. No one can replace Katharine Hepburn, so all efforts to do so were futile. It’s an absolute travesty that she didn’t win an Oscar for that movie.”

I smile to myself because he didn’t even pause to think of those dates. It’s all there, right at his fingertips. I drop my head back against the cushy backrest and look up at the stars. “It sounds like you have a crush on her.”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t? I disagree with the entire concept of marriage, but if I met her back in the thirties, I would’ve wifed her up so fast.”

I roll my head to look at him. “What do you have against marriage? I would love nothing more than to settle down with a good, faithful man who loves me and cherishes me and...looks after me. And I would look after him, too. My mom was a housewife, and it was amazing to have her at home all the time. If I have kids one day, I want at least four—”

His eyes almost pop out of his head. “Four?”

“Yeah, four...as a minimum. I’m an only child, so I don’t want my child to grow up without siblings. And I want to give my kids and my husband the same life that my mom gave me and my dad.”

“And what kind of life is that?”

“She was a GP, but she gave it up when I was born. She started practicing again when I started high school, but only in the mornings, so she could still pick me up from school. She’d take me to martial arts—”

He’s impressed by this. “You do martial arts?”

“Yeah, Eskrima. But I only made it to blue belt before...” My whole world came crashing down around me “...I stopped. But yeah, she took me to all my lessons, helped me with my homework. We cooked together every afternoon. Dinner was ready when my dad got home from work, and we’d eat together and talk about our day. That’s the kind of life I want to give my husband and kids one day.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “You sound likeyou’refrom the thirties, dollface. Are you sure you’re not some mystic time traveler? No one talks like that these days.”

I shrug. “Well, I really want to have a family.” Because I miss being part of one. “And I want to find someone who loves me unconditionally...the way my dad loved my mom.” Memories of them cuddling on the couch and washing dishes together float through my mind, and the images feel distant, almost abstract. I miss them so much. I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to continue. “I want someone who won’t treat me like...a side chick. I want him to be totally committed to me, and I would be one hundred percent committed to him.”

Even as the words leave my mouth, I know it’s just an elaborate fantasy. In reality, the guy would probably use me for sex because hisrealwife made him feel inadequate.

“You’re kidding me, right?” He stares at me for a long time, a mixture of shock and annoyance playing on his face. “You’re only twenty-four. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Why would you even think about settling down at this age? This is your prime. You need to...fuck around and enjoy life. Marriage and commitment can wait ‘til you’re thirty.”

“So, what? Are you suggesting that I waste the best years of my life on guys like you?”

“Yes! I can assure you, I’m the best mistake some women have ever made.”

It’s his exasperation that instantly lifts my mood. “I’m sure you are,” I reply with a giggle. “But I’m not one of them. I have no interest in makinganymistakes with you.”

“Well, that makes two of us. I have no intention of making any mistakes with you either. Like, I’ve been dying to kiss you for the last seven and a half hours, but I’ve had to fight this crazy urge because acting on it would be ahugemistake. You’re so full of yourself, you’d probably misinterpret that and think that I’m into you or something.”

I pause for a moment, my mind doing the mental gymnastics necessary to comprehend that statement. Oh, this guy is smooth. A playful smirk twitches at the corners of his lips, but he keeps a straight face, only throwing a naughty side glance in my direction.

“Are you...” I hesitate. “Are you into me?”

“No.” He shifts his arm, absentmindedly caressing my thigh with the back of his hand before his eyes meet mine. “But I really wanna be.”

The corniness of that statement rips laughter straight from my chest. It’s a guttural sound, loud enough to echo, and that cracks him up too. “One!” I shout through spurts of giggles. “That line gets a one from me. Did you take that straight from the pervanomics playbook?”

“It was a direct quote from chapter three.”

“Please ask Mr. Tate for your money back.”

His body quakes, and he drops his forehead against my shoulder. Just like before, it’s a way of hiding his embarrassment. “I really thought that one would work.”

“No, you didn’t.”

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