Page 56 of Resilient Rhythms
I take a sip of my mint tea and drop my head. “Not yet and, Mckenna, I had the perfect opening.”
“What do you mean?”
“We talked recently and he told me, confided in me, about Amelia. About shit that went sideways in their relationship. And it’s complicated and heavy and, well, it would have segued into my confessing shit about Big Jim.”
Mckenna’s eyebrows dip. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
“It almost seemed like too much.” I snort. “Can you believe that? The opening was right there and I felt like if I said anything, I’d somehow ruin or lessen the weight of what my brother had just confessed. He never let on about the root of the issues between him and Amelia. All these years…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I didn’t want to disrupt or interject more on his moment.”
“I understand that,” Mckenna says softly, reaching across the table to cover my hand with hers. “There will be another opening.”
“I know. I’m going to tell him.”
“I know you will,” she agrees, taking another bite of cheesecake. Her eyes study me closely.
“What?”
She shakes her head.
“Tell me,” I press, leaning closer.
“Do you…do you want kids, Mav?”
I pause, my eyes widening at the question.
“Forget it, that was?—”
“No.” I cut her off.
She stops speaking, surprise flaring across her face. “You don’t?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean, no, let’s not forget it.” I sigh, trying to align my thoughts with the words coming out of my mouth. “Kids always seemed like this faraway, shadowy part of my life. Not something in the here and now. But, yes, Mckenna, I want kids. I want to be a dad. I definitely want to be a pop.”
She laughs.
“One day,” I continue. “When life is more settled and less…chaotic.”
“Yeah.”
“What about you?”
“One day.” She scrapes another bite of cheesecake onto her fork.
“It’s torturous watching you eat this.” I nudge the cake plate closer to her. “I would have devoured it in two seconds flat.”
“Have some.” She pushes the plate back toward me.
“Nah.” I shake my head, drinking my mint tea. “My cream puffs and chocolate lava cake were fantastic, thanks.”
She snickers and holds out her fork, the last bite hovering on the end of the tines, for me. “Try it, Mav.”
I lift my eyebrows and she leans closer, the fork just below my lips.
Sighing, I eat the last bite of cheesecake and groan. “The desserts here are?—”
“The best,” Mckenna finishes my sentence, her voice breathy.
Her eyes are on mine, flaring with heat, and I feel her reaction stir my blood to life.
