Page 162 of Wildest Dreams

“No. I can confirm we’ve never hooked up,” I assured him.

“Very good. What is it, then?”

“As I grow older and wiser, I realize people are made of memories and that my favorite memory is…well, you.”

There was another knock on the door. I hurried up, gulping in air.

“And as I look back at our memories, I can’t help but think we should create more of them together…” I was rambling, but I was grateful, a little drunk on alcohol, and a lot drunk on love.

“What are you saying?” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

“I’m saying I might—not right now, but sometime in the future—want to have children with you.” My eyes clung to his. “And I’m also saying that a vasectomy is reversible and that you might, um, want to consider that.”

He pressed his lips together, trying to contain his amusement. “You want me to breed with you, Dylan? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“No,” I protested. “I’m not a cow. I want you to give me a baby, and I’m asking you if you’d be open to that.”

Another knock on the door. Jesus Christ. People didn’t get the hint.

“Name the time and place,” he challenged.

“When I finish med school,” I said tentatively.

“Fine.” He kissed me. “You have a date, wifey.”

“Thank you for giving me everything I’ve ever wanted.” Now it was my turn to sound like I was cracking under the weight of all my feelings.

“All your wildest dreams, baby.”

The End

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